Mr. Beck's evocative text...
Then the overdressed fitness-jogger types carrying gallon jugs of water or grog, huffing like crazy and staring grimly at the ground. I'm not sure if I was last, but I do know that my not-so-novel strategy of trying to escape my morass of perambulatory incompetence by swinging my arms in furious, powerful arcs resebling George Foreman uppercuts didn't do shit for my pace or standing.
...deserves an illustration:
There are three more panels of this cartoon, a rare Bushwellian original, but there are bad words and stuff used in the dialogue. Wouldn't want to offend any delicate sensibilities, but if you beg, I might just edit this post and add them.
Begging: always a successful tactic! Just ask my old (and they are now) high school boyfriends!
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mmmm, Bad Words ... mmmm
Consider yourself begged.
thank you, thank you.
But what happened to the Bad Words?
BTW:
To Bill Donohue:
Fuck you ya fuckin' fuck-fuck of a Jew-hating fuckass fuckcatholislamofascist!
thank you, Bill from Dover. My daily blog-reading is now complete.
Umm....
Is it me or is there a not very subtle element of bigotry in your cartoon?
The hero is both smarter and skinnier than the losers.
I know you all love to run. I'm sure you are good at it, and wicked in shape and all.
But the attitude expressed in the cartoon is, I think, kinda smug to say the least.
Frankly, I think runners, mostly, are obsessed exhibitionary masochists. Addicted to endorphins instead of cookies, pounding your joints on pavement with a wicked payback coming in later years, and somehow insisting on running in the most polluted, but most highly visible, sections of town.
Then again, running laps was a frequent punishment I garnered in my earlier years. I'm still kinda bitter.
Setting one's cock on fire is a great way to solve many of life's problems.
Gingerbaker:
No, that would be blatant in your face bigotry. Seeing as how I am a bona fide jiggling blob of protoplasm with a body fat percentage at least 3-fold higher than Jim's and Kevin's combined, and as a way-back-in-the-pack hobbyjogger when I am actually running (currently relegated to the Concept II rowing machine these days), I can get away with such self-deprecation as in the above cartoons.
Saint Gasoline
Given your moniker, the phrase "going down in a blaze of glory" comes to mind.
Heh, well, if I were to set my thingie on fire, it would hardly be a blaze of glory. It'd be more like a fifty-cent Fourth of July sparkler--a fizzle of little magnitude.
St. Gas:
Don't sell yourself short.
Dr. Bushwell, has anyone ever told you your sense of humor is similar to that of the great Thomas Jefferson?
Take for example, this TJ quote:
"Fix reason firmly in her seat, and call to her tribunal every fact, every opinion."
"Is it me or is there a not very subtle element of bigotry in your cartoon?"
Mockery, maybe. Bigotry, no. In Dr. Joan's defense, the cartoon was originally crafted as a nested series of inside jokes on a forum full of self-deprecating joggers many moons ago, which is why she had to be begged to repost it here for a less discriminating but generally more alert audience.
"The hero is both smarter and skinnier than the losers."
There's a "hero" involved? All I see are a bunch of assclowns, albeit ones with different goals. One of them winds up with a medal, but it's a shit medal -- an aspect of the inside joke. (Note that the medal-winner's conversation partner is a New Hampshire hillybob. That could be construed as either "bigotry" or homage-paying.)
"I know you all love to run. I'm sure you are good at it, and wicked in shape and all. But the attitude expressed in the cartoon is, I think, kinda smug to say the least."
Now if I had to guess, I would say you're setting up a staw man here so as to justify some upcoming bashing of your own.
"Frankly, I think runners, mostly, are obsessed exhibitionary masochists."
Well, there it is.
You're wrong, though; mostly, they're just addled bumblefucks like everyone else, although their special quirks can be grating. I'll grant you "obsessive," but this isn't always a bad thing in life; the most anoying runners are typically the least obsessive, which is why they fail to grasp certain important details, e.g., don't seed yourself at the front of the pack if you run 14-minute pace, have a sweatshirt tied around your waist, and are carrying several gallon jugs of water.
"Addicted to endorphins instead of cookies, pounding your joints on pavement with a wicked payback coming in later years, and somehow insisting on running in the most polluted, but most highly visible, sections of town."
This is complete horseshit, and I say this as someone with a marked and informed distaste for distance runners as a group. Some people dig both endorphins and cookies, but face it -- if you did have to choose, which addiction would be preferable?
Obesity and inactivity are demonstrably worse on your joints than running is (the whole "payback" you mention is a cross between errant speculation and wishful thinking) and I know no one who runs in the worst parts of town.
Exhibitionist runners, inasmuch as they exist at all, are short-timers in the milieu at best, and we don't want them any more than we wanted Oprah. That said, as popular as marathoning has become, most runners look pretty much like non-runners these days anyway, and hence are not worthy of "exhibitionism" in the manner one expects of a runway model, ballerina, or gymnast.
"Then again, running laps was a frequent punishment I garnered in my earlier years. I'm still kinda bitter."
See, this is the problem. I don't blame you one bit for thinking this way. I've mentioned this elsewhere, but in a country where kids are taught early that running is a punishment by gym teachers, is it any wonder so many clueless adults think of it as "masochism"? Of course it's taxing -- or even painful -- when you aren't in shape; but trust me, it's one of the most mellowing and comfortable things you can do if you're patient and approach it in a measured way.