This comic was inspired by a song written by my brother-in-law but sadly never recorded. The lyrics go “Stupid trout, never done nothin…” and there was definitely going to be some sort of slap bass in there. I think the song came about when we saw some fish in a lake being really lazy. In Slovenia.
Really though, come on fish, step it up.
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This week’s Dustinland comic is not really based on my wife, because she’s pretty good about these kinds of things. But she does have the occasional moment of unsure what should I wear panic. The girl in the strip is really a combination of women I have dated and stories I’ve heard from other people. And yes, it’s a bit of a cliché, I know, haha, what is this a sitcom? But really, clichés exist for a reason, and that’s all I’ll say about that before I have to flee to Mexico again.
This Dustinland comic was not inspired by any one particular person or event (wouldn’t it be ironic if one of my friends got mad at me because of this?), but rather by a conversation where someone educated me about the phenomena of fundamental attribution error. Now I try to keep it in mind whenever I get offended or irritated. Basically you’re just giving someone the benefit of the doubt. It’s very David Foster Wallace, really.
This week’s Dustinland comic was inspired by true events that took place this past weekend. My in-laws have a very old ride-on horse, passed down from their kids. It’s at least 30 years old, possibly more. And my son LOVES it. I can hide it, he will suss it out, first thing in the morning, using his magic child radar. He will find it, hop on, then hand me the reigns, meaning it is time for me to pull him around the house. This can last for eons.
At one moment this weekend, I was pulling him around for so long, it became hypnotic, and I nearly fell asleep standing up. And to make it even more ridiculous, he was eating a cookie the whole time. And he likes to rest his feet on the front wheels, either because it’s comfortable or just to make it a little bit more difficult.
It was during this mammoth horsie pull that I thought about various men throughout history. The farmer, goading on his ox. The Roman, riding gloriously behind his horse-drawn chariot. Even the ancient Japanese warlord, being carried around by other men as he relaxes in a palanquin. How did it get to the point where a 1-year-old can be in the position of power, while the grown man, earner, provider, dad, is the donkey?
This is definitely one of my weirdest Dustinland comics. It’s not even a comic really. More like a Buzzfeed post, if only I would have titled it “The top 8 Transformer crotches.” But here’s how this comic came about:
For years now I’ve been wanting to draw a comic about how all these old school Transformers had the names of gay strippers (not that there’s anything wrong with thaticus). So I threw together this lit with names like Hot Rod, Prowl, Jazz, and Thrust, and I thought it was pretty funny. But I could never figure out what to do with it. It was just a list. Fast forward to today, the era of the online listicle! I started throwing together a simple list with some images of the Transformers along with snarky comments, but it just wasn’t doing it for me. That’s when I realized I could take it further. Really probe the depths of the oddity that is robots with large bulging crotches. And thus was born not just this week’s comic, but also Robocrotch, my new Tumblr blog, which may no longer exist by the time you read this.
Really though, I mean, why would a robot have a crotch? I can see maybe just a space for their legs to connect to, but any sort of bulge type apparatus… it just doesn’t make sense. Transformers were supposed to be from some other planet where everyone is a robot, so I guess theoretically they could have robot sex, but I do remember episodes of the cartoon where in order to increase their ranks, either Autobots or Decepticons would just build more robots—no robo-humping required. Plus all the Transformers were dudes, except for maybe two, and they didn’t show up until the movie.
I’ll stop now.
If you read this week’s Dustinland comic about working out, lifting, exercising and what not, you might think I’m jealous of dudes who are really ripped. And in some ways I am. Frankly, I’m torn on the whole thing.
Now, I definitely think it’s a bit weird when dudes get completely jacked and enormous and spend half their time drinking protein shakes and popping weird pill packs. But I wouldn’t mind being just a regular type of muscley dude. There was a brief time when I was working out quite frequently and I started to actually grow pectoral muscles and I was really enjoying that. And really, the best part of working out is the way you feel afterwards. Happier. More energized. It’s good stuff.
On the other hand, who has the time? Man, I’m a dad. I barely have time to draw this comic once a week. Now I’m supposed to work out every other day? The only parents I know who seem to pull this off have to wake up at 5:00 am and work out before work. I just don’t think I could do that. Maybe if I lived in the woods and could go for a run through nature I’d be more inspired. City work outs just aren’t the same.
It’s also that people are so obsessed with their bodies once they get all buff. I mean, it’s nice and all but really, who cares? What could be less original of an achievement than getting in shape? Maybe if you’re obese and you turn all skinny and toned, okay, sure, you have the right to be proud of yourself. But everyone else, big deal. Yes, lift heavy things and run around and don’t eat cupcakes all day and MAGIC you are in shape. I realize it takes motivation and self control but ultimately, who cares.
In the end, I do want to start working out again, simply because it can’t be good to never exercise for the rest of my life. Meh. That’s the sound of getting older right there. Meh.
I hope my kid is never embarrassed by this fart-related comic. I mean, he is only one, so anything he does at this age should only be considered cute or funny, or perhaps painful, like when he smashed me in the face with a metal spoon not too long ago this evening. But yeah, KIDS SAY THE DARNEDEST THINGS, GFFAW!
Actually, I do have something else to add. My friend taught his kids to call farts “pibbiters.” Based on the way you might write a fast sound effect: PBBBT! Maybe I should try to switch to that.