Well, I was going to write a column on cartoonist Scott Adams (Dilbert) and his most recent foray into political analysis: praising Donald Trump for his skills as a Master Persuader. I got pretty deep in the weeds reading the various articles written, and also waded into some of the comment threads. Do not go there, if you value your psyche, or your lunch. I even made a couple of stabs at writing the thing: “Is Scott Adams— rich, successful and firmly ensconced at the pinnacle of a job he loves and is manifestly good at— really a fulminating, bitter, self-absorbed men’s rights activist who seems to have a man-crush on the rhetorical brilliance of Cheeto Benito, or is he just trolling us?”
Screw it. This whole miserable election just makes me soul-sick. You want to read about Scott Adams? This guy has some interesting things to say about the whole dispiriting mess. Me, I’m gonna write about my pumpkin. No Trump jokes, please!
Most Halloweens I carve a pumpkin, because it’s expected of me. I wrote about it once. It occurs to me that since I carved last year’s pumpkin after I published my post, you never got to see it. Well, last year I carved two, one of which was my fabulous wife’s idea. Here they are:
I’m quite pleased with this year’s effort, too. Here it is:
Magnificent, no? And, since it’s been a day or so, what have the Ravages of Time done to my Transcendent Work of Art? Behold:
Cartoons are transitory, pumpkins even moreso; but don’t let it stop you from making Art. Or art. Life is fleeting, and the boundaries between Living and Not So Much are tenuous indeed. That’s the lesson of Halloween.
And be sure to vote next week. Vote for the sane one.
A Salon article about Scott Adams
A Washington Post article via SFGate about Scott Adams
An article by a cartoonist I like about you-know-who
Yet another canny summation about the guy
Phil Maish is a freelance cartoonist of no repute. His modest efforts may be viewed at myth-fits.com. He has worked for the Government, the Press, the Opera, and a Soulless Corporation. Self-taught and beholden only to his formidable wife and amazing son, he spends his free time gadding about in his vintage autogyro and, with his faithful manservant Nicopol, exploring forgotten ruins, discovering hitherto unknown animal species, smashing spy rings, and regaling fellow members of the League of Intrepid Adventurers with tales of his intrepid adventures.
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