Auchtoon!

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, December 4, 2010

What’s your favorite version of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”? A bit of a trick question because for me reading the original story in Dickens’ own words is the very best. I reread it when I got the basic idea for this week’s comic. I knew exactly what I wanted and where it was, but it is such a delight to read this book. It’s amazing, really, when you consider how well it is known and clichéd in some respects it has become. (And as an editorial cartoonist I say “thank God!” because there are so few literary references these days that are universally recognized.) But every time I read it, the story just jumps — funny, compelling, and extraordinary.

And I think you have to read the whole story to truly feel the intensity of Scrooge’s graveside transformation when he says, “…I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” Because it’s one thing to say those words, and it’s quite another to intend to follow through. In Grand Rapids we are blessed with people who seemed to have, in fact, followed through. Next month the new Helen DeVos Children’s Hospital will open (there were tours last week). Something like this doesn’t happen without the spirit of Christmas in somebody’s heart.

But to answer the original question, the best adaptation of A Christmas Carol for me is the one from 1984 with George C Scott. It’s authentic, magical, and Scott is diabolically mean and joyously reformed. I also like Scrooged from 1988. The casting is inspired, particularly Carol Kane as the Ghost of Christmas present and Mary Lou Retton as Tiny Tim. The worst (again, for me) is a 1970 “animated” version I remember seeing as a kid. It’s the straightforward story set in Victorian times, but will lousy limited animation and no soul. A classic example of  the “it’s a cartoon, the kids will like it” mentality that inevitably produces a turd. And along those lines, I’ve never seen Mister Magoo’s Christmas Carol, but I’ve heard a song(!) from it, which was painful. How about you?

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, November 27, 2010

Often when I’m trying to come up with an idea for a cartoon, I will read online articles on topics I think I might have an opinion about. It’s a good way to become more informed, perhaps add a little insight, and verify I’m on the right track. What I don’t do is scroll to the bottom and read the comments section. Why? Well, it is typically the express lane to Crazytown, and I get enough junk email every day extolling the virtues of, say, financial windfall from dead Nigerian royalty or breast augmentation (or both) to be reminded of Crazytown’s existence.
 
But, um, yeah, sometimes I do look. I’m not sure if it was boredom or morbid curiosity, but this week when I was researching the “Detroit and Flint Dangerous Cities” topic on MLive.com, I did scroll down to see just how bad it could be. Yep, pretty bad. Or at least bad enough that it became the topic I wanted to draw about. The conflict I had, though, was I had already drawn on subject of comment boards about a year and a half ago. (Click here.) I only get one editorial cartoon a week, so I hate to rehash things I’ve already done. But I was pleased to see that comic I had drawn before was, well, not particularly good. In fact, it was more than a bit ham-fisted. So that gave me clearance to try for improvement. And so to make this a proper comment board I want half of you to tell me the comic sucks, and the other half to tell them they suck. Oh… and the third comment, whatever it is, has to include the word “Nazi.”

First of all, her name could be a bit confusing to those outside the family. Her name was officially Cassaundra Jane (with the “u” in purposely included to ensure it was pronounced “kah-sawn-drah” and not “kah-san-drah”). More typically it was Cassie, but more commonly it was Poo! (with the exclamation point purposely included because it seemed to fit). There were of course many related variations — Poo!Cassie, Poo!Dalolly, DaPoo! — and unrelated: When Atticus was little, he called her “Shnocky-head.” Nobody has any idea where that comes from or what it means, but it too worked. (I contend that her birth name was Stooart Loouise Pooskawitz, a Peruvian/Siamese Jew by way of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan born to a ne’er-do-well cad and a stinky lady of ill-repute on the mean streets of Flint, Michigan. The story I hope someday to turn into a questionable children’s book.)

Whatever you called her, my Cassie was a cat’s cat — smart, sneaky, strong preferences, particular, clean, elegant, opinionated, sweet, and kind of a butthole. It was okay that I called her a butthole when she acted like a butthole — she called me names much worse — but she didn’t especially care for the “butthole” song I would sing to her, although it is certainly a jaunty tune. For 20 plus years, Cassie was my workmate — I would work, she would sleep. To be fair, she did do some other things. She would also bathe loudly and go sit on my keyboard to demand my attention. In our old house, where my office in the basement with her, um, facilities, she would take a dump, which was always a good reminder for me to go stretch my legs while the room aired out. Over the years, whenever I came back to my office (whatever the reason), Cassie had this innate sense of knowing where I needed to be next. If I needed to draw, she would be curled up on my drawing chair. If I needed to be working on my computer, she would be curled up on my desk chair. Uncanny! Then I would feel absolutely horrible having to move her, which of course delighted her to no end. See? Kind of a butthole.

July 1990 my sister-in-law Ann and my mother-in-law brought Cassie to us. Jane and I had been in our first house all of two weeks and were not really looking to add anybody soon, but there she was. I fell in love. The first night we had Cassie, we put her in a room downstairs for the night. We thought she was too small to make it up and down the steps. The moment we closed the door, she started to cry and it broke my heart. So I slept on the floor with her that night. (Next night and most thereafter she was in bed with me and Jane.) Last Saturday, Cassie was failing. Jane had already spent the night with her Friday, so I slept in another room on the floor with Cassie. The beginning met the end. Sunday morning she was gone.

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, November 20, 2010

The Grand Rapids Public Museum (a.k.a. the Van Andel Museum) is hosting an exhibit called “Bodies Revealed,” and it just opened this past weekend. If you don’t want to click the link, here’s the basic scoop:

In this phenomenal exhibition about the amazing and complex machine we call the human body, more than a dozen full body human specimens and hundreds of organs are respectfully displayed to tell the story of the miraculous systems at work within each of us.  With a reverent, academic approach, this display allows people of all ages to more closely observe the skeletal, muscular, nervous, digestive, respiratory, reproductive and circulatory systems, and to absorb information normally reserved only for medical professionals. 

It’s an exciting idea, but of course there are real possibilities for attendees to be “shocked, nauseated, or even offended.” Much the same way I feel about politicians reaping the benefits of their world-class (and government-run) health care while telling me that my family doesn’t deserve the same.

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, November 13, 2010

When somebody would ask Charles Schultz about his comic strip Peanuts and the significance of his work, he would generally revert to his Midwestern roots and be self-effacing in talking about his “silly drawings.” But if a critic ever dismissed his work as “silly drawings,” Schultz was keenly defensive and not at all kind in his counter-attacks. Unfortunately, I don’t know stuff like this about Schultz firsthand. One of my regrets is that I never took the time to go meet Schultz. In 1989 Jane and I went to San Francisco as part of a business trip for her company. It was very cool and got to hang out with her sister, Feather. What I didn’t do was drive an hour north to Santa Rosa and meet Schultz. At the time, I was aware he lived in Santa Rosa and was easily found — he had lunch every day at the café that was part of the ice arena he had built. The staff kept him shielded but he would likely talk with you if you came asking cartooning advice. As Charlie Brown might say, “Rats!”

But I bring this up because Michigan seems to have a similar relationship with its automobile industry. That is, when asked we tend to take the self-effacing Midwestern approach to describing it. “Yeah, it was great, and we let it get screwed up, but we’re working hard at making something good. It won’t be the same, and that’s okay. The world has changed, and we have to change with it.” But when outsiders (southern senators, west coast hipsters, or — worst of all — Wall Street financial “experts”) make their disparaging remarks, well, I myself start channeling another hero I regretfully never met, Kurt Vonnegut, in wanting to tell them all to go take a flying f— at a rolling donut.

I decided to go a more positive route with this week’s comic, but the venom is still there. It seems pretty clear to me (and I think the latest cars and trucks from Detroit proves this out) that we can and should create and manufacture world-class products in the United States. If only we as a country would redirect some of our energy away from stupid money tricks and into building useful things.    

What really brought this into focus was a conversation with my brother who has spent his entire working life in the automotive industry designing, facilitating, and creating tangible products that consumers want to buy. In other words, my brother is an economic engine. If you wanted to create a strong, growing economy, you would start by ordering a case of Michael Auchters. So I’m talking on the phone with him last week and he’s telling me he is trying to refinance his house — a reasonable and sensible thing to do, especially with rates so low. And Mike has a reasonable and sensible idea of how he wants to do it, but all his bank will do is pitch him teasers — save on monthly payments!!! (Fine print: double-mortgages, balloons, deferred payments, potential disaster) My brother is smart enough not to fall into the trap. I’m hoping the rest of the country is, too. We have enough regrets about how we handled stupid money tricks before.

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, November 6, 2010

A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals, and you know it.
— Agent K from “Men in Black“

Republicans swept to power here in Michigan last week. Both the House and Senate will have large GOP majorities, the Attorney General, Secretary of State (our version of the DMV), two Supreme Court justices, our local US House reps — all Republican. And after 8 years, even our governor. That’s him in front holding the letter, Rick Snyder. (Or is he? As I was drawing him it dawned on me that there’s a very real possibility we Michiganders just elected Detective Frank Drebin from the “Naked Gun” movies.)

Now as an individual, I realize that these folks will be new to their jobs and it would be a challenge for them to come up to speed under the most ideal of circumstances. But of course now they will have to do it in historically trying times with severely limited resources. And yet, as a Michigan voter, I want to see some damn results. If any of them need a reality smack in the face, they need go no further than today’s reaction to the ideas floated by a bipartisan committee to reduce the federal deficit. It’s a basic, sensible recipe — reduce spending and increase revenue, which makes sense, right? Apparently, already we hate it. Of course, it doesn’t help when the Associated Press starts its story with “In a politically incendiary plan…”

Good luck new office holders everywhere! Don’t screw up…

First, you should know that my daughter Natalina is advancing the fine Auchter tradition with Grandville High School theater and will be appearing as Andromeda in the Greek tragedy, “The Women of Troy.”  Performances are next week, Thursday, Friday, Saturday (November 18-20), each at 7:00PM at the high school. Click here for more details. Word on the street is that it’s gonna be impressive.

When you do come, you will be treated to a printed version of the above drawing in the program. Here’s the back story: In 1999 we moved to our current home, which happens to have a backyard that borders the Grandville cemetery. None of our children found this scary or even peculiar. In fact, we would often go for family walks — the headstones had an almost endless variety of words, letter, numbers, and these would generate all sorts of questions and educational opportunities.

One day four year-old Natalina was particularly interested in some of the symbols. “What are they for?” she wondered. Jane and I explained that these images generally meant something significant about the person — like a military veteran might have a flag to let people know he died in the service of his country. Natalina thought about this the way Natalina thinks about things — she says nothing as her beautiful eyes dart and swim. After a while we came upon a man who had images of farm equipment engraved on his headstone. Natalina asked what we thought they meant. We said, “Well, maybe the man was a farmer or he found joy in working the earth to grow things.” Natalina considered this for a moment and then offered helpfully, “Or naybe he got runned over by a tractor.” 

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, October 30, 2010

Boy, how ‘bout that election, huh? Are you kiddin’ me? Politicians with their attack ads and whatnot. AmIright? Ha! Who’s with me? I tell ya!…

Yeah, it just seems like bad standup schtick to talk about an election after an election. Worse, to talk about a pre-election editorial cartoon after the election. …but it’s all I got, so let’s review the highlights and then you can get back to Facebook:

Politifact.com was an awesome resource for the election season. Their “Truth-O-Meter” rated political ads their depth of trueness — best being “True” and then desending to “Mostly True”, “Half True,” “False,” and for the worst, “Pants on Fire.” One of my pants-on-fire experiences came from a robo-call I got last weekend. The somber deep male voice advised me that candidate for US Congress, Justin Amash, had voted to give our seaports to terrorist. That a bill he supported would sell our seaports to a company from the United Arab Emirates (UAB) and that two of the 9/11 terrorist were from there so…. Of course, Amash could never have voted on such a bill — he was a state representative. And Michigan doesn’t have seaports that the legislation was talking about. And I don’t believe two of the terrorist were from the UAB, but even if they were I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make everybody else from the UAB a terrorist. So many lies packed into 30 seconds.

The Bob & Tom Show was running hilarious ads for fake candidate “Doug LaDouche.” Click for a collection of some of the things he said. My favorite: “I’m for eliminating all taxes. The government should use its own money, not ours.”

This is one of my favorite comedy bits. Greg Warren talks about his parents fighting each other with political ads:

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, October 23, 2010

Classic editorial cartooning — from anecdotal evidence, gross oversimplification, and a silly drawing, truth (hopefully) is revealed.

Originally published in the Grand Rapids Press, October16, 2010

On the ballot next month Michigan voters will get to choose whether to have a convention to rewrite our state constitution (or the cool way to say it, have a “con-con”).

Why It’s a Good Idea: Our constitution has been amended several time since the last whisking nearly 50 years ago, and it’s a bit of a patchwork mess. In fact, the whole state is a bit of a patchwork mess. So now would be a good time to start fresh, realign goals, and move on a clear path forward.

Why It’s a Bad Idea: We can’t trust ourselves not to totally screw it up. Notice I didn’t say “politicians” or “Wall Street bankers” or “that damn Obamacare that is tearing the moral fabric of a once genteel and noble society leading us into ruination, bankruptcy, venereal diseases, and the designated hitter rule in baseball, which I have never liked.” No, it’s kind of like term limits — because we think so little of our capacity to make good decisions we take away our own options.

 For the comic I singled out the politicians because it’s election season and their pandering is in high gear (and because it was the path of least resistance to get the point across). But it is good to keep in mind that — in a country that is of the people, by the people, for the people — politicians are not separate citizens and government is not a separate institution. They are we, and it is us. Time to take some responsibility, read up, and vote.