Visitors, and so on


Did you ever have a visitor who felt like he belonged with you? That was the basis for this effort. This fellow is clearly just arriving. The taxi is leaving, so there’s no escape now. He’s brought a raft of belongings, of pooch-food, and so on, and it’s obvious that he’s getting ready for a long visit.

Let’s face it, he’s moving in.

Does that thought fill you with dread? You are the person who has opened the door. You are related to this visitor. Everyone likes company, having folks over for dinner, for a party, and so on. But do any of us want that person to move in, to take over, to actually join the ebb and flow of our life? If we meet someone we like, and we invite them into our life, that’s one thing, but is there anything worse than the permanent visitor?

I don’t remember what led to this one. It might have been something I saw on TV, or maybe I was having guests over and my mind wandered. I don’t know. But it raises a question. And it shows us interested types that KerDoodles, who unequivocally exist, are just like us. They have their mooches too.

Whoo – that was deep!

How about a little relief, then, from the comics – a little comic relief? This one is, I think, fairly self-explanatory, and extremely minimalist. I got a kick out of it. Yes, I was thinking of Pinocchio at the time.

When I was little my Mom used to tell me that she knew when I was lying. “How do you know that, Mommy,” I’d ask, and she’d reply, “because your eyes change colour.”

Of course, that’s not true (love you, Mom) but how else do you explain intuition, logic, and inference to a child? The growing nose of Pinocchio, too, was a fanciful way of telling a child that there are signs that lead an adult who is paying attention to the conclusion that a child is not being one hundred percent veracious.

This one was a response to that thought, that day. I don’t know what triggered it. At that time there were so many ideas flying around – it’s hard to pinpoint precisely what led to each and every one of them. But I like it. I like him. If he’s a downright fibber, at least he’s a happy downright fibber!

And now for something completely different.

This comes from the inspired list. I saw it in my mind, and set about drawing it. It’s rough. It’s early work, for sure, but I think the concept is sound. It should be evident that it’s a submarine. They’re in uniform, they’re evidently very active. There are two – count ‘em, two – flashing red lights in the frame – that’s got to tell you something. There’s pressure here. Tension. Heat. Are they under fire? Are they getting ready for an attack? Certainly, everyone’s busy at their work. And even as this is the case, the Captain – the one with the hat – is suffering a moment of reflection.

I like it. It rings true, somehow. I’ve often wondered what people think about when they’re under pressure – even highly-trained, important people like nuclear submarine commanders. He’s cute – vaguely effeminate. He seems a little out of place.

Next, music. Music has always been a part of my life. I am not a musician – by any means – but because of my schooling and my upbringing and my mother’s status as a permanent, card-carrying operatic Diva, I do have an appreciation for music and musicians. So it should come as no surprise that I’ve drawn a number of cartoons in recognition and celebration of the role of music in our lives.

Whether you read music, or write it, or just listen to it, you have been affected – perhaps even profoundly – by the presence of music in your life. At the mall, in the car, in the supermarket, in the shower, in the concert hall – or perhaps only while watching a movie – your life is in tune, whether you know it or not, with the rhythmic, harmonic, and melodic outpourings of the few selected by the cosmos to harbour such talents.

I love music. My tastes are eclectic – I connect with my nature in all sorts of ways. As long as there’s an actual melody, and some kind of attempt at structure, I’m fine with it. I respect the abilities of the creatives of the world.

Remember the barbershop quartet of way back when? I saw those guys just as clearly as I saw these. But while they were colourful, singing about a young lady, these fellows are resplendent in their black cassocks whilst singing their own particular praises. They really look like they’re in tune, don’t they? I didn’t need to draw the church, or the concert hall, behind them – I think you can see it anyway. The way they emerge from the blackness, I think, evokes a real sense of reverence and awe. Do you see it that way, too?

We’ll see some more musicians a bit later. Stay tuned.

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