Have you seen Garfield Minus Garfield? The book has been out since October 2008, collected from the comics posted on Dan Walsh’s website. The gist is to remove the cat from the strip and discover a remarkably funny, albeit dark and usually depressing, comic strip.

Publishers Weekly says, “If Samuel Beckett had been a strip cartoonist, he might’ve produced something like this.” Here are a couple.

For a slightly different angle on this joke:

Allan Sherman was an entertainer from the days of my youth, who had no particular talent except for his ability to write clever parodies of popular songs. I was a great fan of his, and even tried to write parodies of my own. But I was never as good at it. The clip above is perhaps my favorite of his works, a take-off on the song, “You Gotta Have Heart,” from the musical D*mn Yankees (fifty years after the show opened on Broadway, I still can’t bring myself to spell out the title). It came to my mind today, heaven knows why.

I came up with a one-liner today that is, in my opinion, hilarious. It’s so good that I’m positive somebody else must have come up with it first.

“I’d give my right arm to be ambidextrous.”

Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.

My big entertainment, over the weekend, was watching all three Man With No Name movies on Blu-ray. I’ve had a Blu-ray player for several months now, but I didn’t actually own a Blu-ray movie. Finally I noticed that Amazon was selling a set of all three Eastwood spaghettis for about twenty-five bucks, so I sent away for them.

Consumer report: I enjoyed the movies very much, as I always do. But I realized more than ever before – I suppose it’s inevitable as I grow older – that there is no moral value in them whatever. I first encountered the term “moral holiday” in a review of a James Bond movie when I was a teenager, and that conception applies just as well to Sergio Leone’s westerns. They’re works of art, and sometimes breathtaking. But they do not know good from evil.

They think they do. I’m sure director Leone thought he was teaching a moral lesson to the world with his works. He loved westerns – it’s apparent in every frame – but he did not love America. Part of the mystique of the spaghetti western was the suggestion that these movies were more honest than the older movies. The old movies had sugar-coated the hard truth, turning gunfighters into boy scouts. But now we could see the true motivations – hatred, revenge, and especially pure greed.

In fact this was no more realistic than the earlier westerns. If the traditional American oaters romanticized the cowboy and the shootist, the Italian westerns imposed on them a purely modern, amoral sensibility. You can see that in the frequency of violence against women in the Italian movies. In the real American west, violence against women (at least white women) was among the chief taboos. These were Victorians, after all, not members of the Manson family.

But Leone knew how to make a film, and he hired one of the greatest geniuses in film music, Ennio Morricone, to do the sound tracks. The result is pure entertainment, the kind of alteration of consciousness that only a master epic filmmaker can produce.

Just as Leone “tore the mask” off the American cowboy, I shall here tear the mask off the moviemaker – moviemakers are manipulators. They always stack the decks, for good or ill. Understand that and you’re free to have a good time.

Applies equally to novelists, come to think of it.

You’re fun, energetic, serious, and focused on what’s important. You may not have the world by the tail, but you’re going to look like you do, by gum.

Whoa! Another earthquake. They seem to come every morning about this time too. Did you feel it? It isn’t just me, is it? (via David C. Cook)

I just pulled up something I wrote in 2002 and thought I’d share it with you. It’s true. I did not make this up.

My co-worker was home alone when she found a large spider on a pile of towels. She smacked it repeatedly with a fly swatter. screaming all the while, but afraid that it was only stunned, she scooped it up in the towels, dropped them on the driveway, and whacked it several more times, again screaming the whole time.

Later, she overheard her husband asking her son about the spider in the driveway, assuming he had run over it in his car a few minutes prior.

“Oh, that big, brown thing?” her son exclaimed. “It was huge! I couldn’t believe it! Good thing Mom didn’t see it.”

On a note related to Lars’ last post, here are ten American habits which at least one Brit cannot understand. Take flossing, for instance, or talking to strangers.

By contrast, here are ten British habits which apparently don’t jive with Americans. Take avoiding eye contact and direct intentions. I wonder how many times I’d be tempted to tell a Brit to shut up.