sudden impulse the other day had me looking around for my Bloom County
books. No luck. Moderate panic. I could hardly misplace my bookcases, and the books were clearly not there. It took me 24 hours of searching (well, searching conducted sporadically over 24 hours) before they turned up in a milk crate stuck in a corner, surrounded by course files.
Read a bit of Toons For Our Times
before going to bed that night, enjoying the flashbacks to old political and cultural situations. It's funny and weird and wonderful, all rolled up in one, to revisit something like that after a long time and to realize or remember what a huge role it had in creating my sense of humour, possibly more than another of the other stuff I paid attention to, like Monty Python's Flying Circus
, The Young Ones
, or Mom. It certainly reinforced my willingness to say something daring or inappropriate, but that went right to the heart of the matter, if only people would admit it: I think Bloom County
was the 1980s version of Socrates in our society, in that way. Certainly the hold it had over my circle of friends was incalculable. Anyway, looking back and trying to understand myself or my education, it was interesting to realize that I'd made a huge mistake in leaving this out of the equation....