If only Cling Wrap wasn’t so eager to show you right away how well it lives up to its name. Daughter made banana bread, and set it out to cool; of course Birch the Dog has drawn his plans. It tasks him. It tasks him, it does, and it shall be his. Never mind that he’s had plenty of food all day; there’s no such thing as “plenty of food” for a dog. There is eat until you are sick and then barf it all out and then hey, hot meal. Yesterday he had a bone-type thing my Wife bought for him; it was announce as a new, improved solution to the whole bone problem. Give them rawhides, and they get upset stomachs; give them “digestible” rawhides, and they’re gone in a trice. Give them a reindeer antler - yes, you can buy those - and they will work them for a week, but eventually they’re so sharp you fear the dog will look like Rocky in the tenth row. This bone was like a Nylabone, except dogs apparently want it. No dog wants an Nylabone. They chew and chew and it diminishes not. Even dogs understand the futility.

This bone-thing required Birch to work for several hours, and it was loud. I don’t know how he can get his jaw open today.

Anyway, I wrapped up the banana bread in aluminum foil, but ran out, prefiguring the moment when someone will use the last piece of aluminum foil on the earth. I mean, it has to happen, right? The abundance of aluminum stuff (cans, foil, foil, airplanes, cans) suggests there’s just a hell of a lot of it around, because it’s cheap. Wikipedia: “By mass, aluminium makes up about 8% of the Earth's crust; it is the third most abundant element after oxygen and silicon and the most abundant metal in the crust.”

I didn’t know that. I will feel less guilt about throwing away a can now. (Note: I never feel any guilt about throwing away a can. In fact I feel liberated, like Patrick McGoohan in The Prisoner, striding down the hallway to burst into the office and throw a can into the bin that is not for recycling.)

Anyway. Since the pantry supplies of aluminum were allll the way downstairs, I got out the Cling Wrap. I think everyone hates Cling Wrap. The first thing it does is seek out its own, and it’s like a Band-Air that gets stuck to itself - it’s never quite the same. We also have Wax Paper, which is useless because it doesn’t want to stay folded. It could not care less about staying folded, and indeed, unfolds before your eyes with an indolent insouciance, like a beatnik putting his feet up on the table in a nice house.
If I get the order of these things correct, it was Wax Paper, then Cellophane, then Cling Wrap. Cellophane was modern and new - you could see right through it! Only trust bread that’s wrapped in Cellophane! - but it crinkled and was utterly interested in staying folded; asking it to stay folded was like asking a puppy to sit and stay.

Well, I just wrote 500 words on the stuff you put around fresh banana bread. I am sorry. I suppose I could say something about Current Events, but the tenor and parameters of modern discussion is so ridiculous you don’t know know where to begin. It’s all the same.

Step A: President proposes idea at variance, to put it kindly, with the persona he projected while running for office

Step B: Sensible people with wide-ranging grasp of the issue weigh in from both sides

Step C: Trump-loathing left-side people can’t see the win, and waddle down the center aisle of the galley where the Twitter-slaves row, pounding out the same old rhythmn: RUSsia RACist RUSsia RACist before turning in for the night, thinking I did so much resisting on social media today

Step D: Previously insightful anonymous bloggers who have descended into pure tribalism - motivated in part by anger at disapproving higher-profile pundits (that is, pundits who actually have a public profile) - go after the imaginary hordes of TrueCon EagleLove NeverTrump Fredos salivating for approval from their media betters, accusing them of being liberals who wanted Hillary. Because it’s not enough to judge the proposal by the usual metrics (what is it? Will it pass? What’s the long-term effect? How does it conform to the politician’s stated convictions?) - you have to excoriate anyone whose legitimate criticism might hurt Your Precious, because you mortgaged your crib to go all in and now he’s you.

As one blogger wrote: “I could see Trump getting weaker and weaker in his negotiations in a bid to win Love from people who will always hate him.”

Just figuring this out now, laddy buck? No, I don’t think so. But that had to be set aside, because there were TruEagleBleedingFredoCons by the billion to call out on the internet.

Step E: Random POTUS tweet about some cultural issue resets the table, such as the Guggenheim refusing to send the White House a Van Gogh painting, but suggesting they could send a golden toilet; Scott Adams explains why this is genius misdirection.

Step F: Think pieces about “Van Gogh and the Power of Artistically Reconsidered Excrement Receptacles” and so on.

I’m glad I live in a country where a major museum can tell the President “sorry, no.” I am dismayed to live in a culture where the museums are run by children.

Step G: It’s Monday! Upend the Etch-a-Sketch and do it all over again.

Not the most productive week, now that I think of it. But spirits were reasonably good and there were merry moments. Not sure I earned this Friday - but I’ll take it.

Yes, it's the return of Lance Lawson! All new strips!

This is one of the early strips I mentioned the other day. Never been seen before.

Early Lance was just as serious, and had 31% more jaw. Answer around noon, in the comments. If I remember.

The music of Suspense depends on the era. Well, yeah, of course, you say. When doesn't it? But shows usually don't span eras. Suspense did. Started in the early 40s, ended in the last days of radio in 1962. Towards the end, they relied on library music, and that's what we have here.

Auto-Lite wasn't a sponsor at this point, but since the show from which I took the cues concerned a car, I suppose it'll do. I'm sure this is from the same set as most of the sprightly Couple Next Door cues we heard a few years ago.

The last one is a pure straight rip-off from Walton's "Facade Suite," the "Popular Song" number: Shameless. No credit!

Instead of the swank old sounds of Goodwill albums, this year we're listening to bad 1960s pop music. The second- and third-tier tunes. The ones that tried to capitalize on a particular niche or crazy. They all have something going for them, but hardly enough - and remember, this was the band's A material.

Mr. Manson on line 2; he's looking for new recruits.

1962: Smoke 'em if you got 'em. And of course you got 'em.

Thanks for stopping by this week! I appreciate the patronage.