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I’m reading a biography of stage magician Howard Thurston (1869-1936) and this silly idea about how magicians sold the idea of mysteries and the huge egos they had popped into my head. Creep Rat believes he has something over the audience but he’s an idiot. Yes. death is a mystery — but how one can cause a death is no mystery of all.
I drew this comic strip a few weeks after my mother’s funeral. I was feeling guilty about being such a slob while she was alive. And living on the west coast while she’s buried on the east coast means I’ll hardly ever visit her grave site. Add the Karloff/Lugosi 1934 Black Cat movie into the mix and I’ve got a comic strip.
You know how it is when you rush home from your day gig, have a nice supper with your wife (or husband), then sit down at your drawing table to draw a comic strip that has to be finished in two hours? You scroll down through the website of you mind about whatever you read or talked about that past week, fix on a image that perhaps you have already drawn in the past (it’s faster that way), and then start your comic with no idea of an ending — just trusting yourself — and two or three glasses of port wine. You get done with the third panel, an idea makes you snicker, and there it is. A punch line. Well, that’s how it happened this time. Let’s hope it happens again.
This week’s strip is a little personal to me as I have always had a fast metabolism (that’s only slowed down a bit as I have aged). I’ve always been proud of my metabolism as it has kept me rock star skinny my whole life — but then it turned into colitis and eventually into a mild irritable bowel syndrome that’s kept me close to the toilet and laughing at poop jokes way beyond when most people grow out of it (age 9).
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Jokes like this have been made about blood sucking before. Sergio Aragones in Mad had a great strip back in the 70’s about a vampire sucking a hippy’s blood and tripping. And the FX TV show version of What We Do in the Shadows did this idea three weeks ago. My version is more deadly
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