Had the Voice picked up the feature when I submitted it a quarter-century ago, this strip might have continued for years, possibly setting a world’s record for perpetual irresolution.

Instead, I moved on to Wendel.

Woodstock was only thirteen years in the past when I drew these coming strips, after all. That’s only a couple of weeks in LSD years!

Soon I’d be drawing Ollie and Sterno instead of Cliff and Trev gnawing on those old Sixties bones. Listen, folks, the heady utopianism of that era had a big impact on me, and I had a lot of stuff to work through even after a decade’s passage, what with Reaganism in the ascendancy and cynicism fast rotting the soul of our republic.

In those days the surreal drawings of Walter Gurbo regularly appeared on the paper’s back cover, which lured me into fantasizing that some decision-makers in the Voice’s editorial hierarchy might tune into the sneaky way that Trev toyed with reader expectations.

George graciously sent my feature up the chain of command, but it failed to spark any interest. It was a pretty oddball experiment, I have to admit—partly because on the surface it looked so normal. (The ol’ Barefootz syndrome strikes again!)

(Saturday is Martha Thomases Day at ComicMix, by the way; here’s a link to her column for today.)

It’s been tough finding time to blog during these last two weeks. A number of afternoons were taken up by the comics-creation workshop I led at BArT (full name: the Berkshire Arts and Technology Charter Public School) in nearby Adams and a number of mornings were taken up preparing for same. I’ve also been adapting my Mark the Art Guy webcomic series for the print version that Adobe will soon publish as a trade show handout for Adobe Creative Suite 3.

On the home front, my husband (and ongoing partner in destroying the institution of marriage) and I have been keeping close tabs on Eddie’s elderly parents in Florida, who’ve been undergoing health reversals that could make more trips to West Palm Beach for one or both of us advisable in the near future. At present nothing seems life-threatening for the old folks, but these periodic hospitalizations do impinge seriously on their ability to go discoing on Saturday nights.

Meanwhile, fellow cartoonist Robert (Curbside) Kirby pointed out to me this week that an online movie critic named Dave (The Movie Watcher) White had included Stuck Rubber Baby in his short list of comics that should be made into movies.

From your mouth to God’s ear, Dave!

Illustrating Steve’s post is his copy of Wendel on the Rebound, an early compilation of strips from the series that was published in 1989 by St. Martin’s Press. Unfortunately, any of Steve’s readers who are inspired enough by his generous comments about my work to try and track down that particular book will have to haunt dusty used book racks (like this online one), since it and its predecessor (Wendel, Gay Presses of New York) have been out of print for a dozen years now.

I’m happy to report, though, that everything that was first collected in Wendel, Wendel on the Rebound, and Kitchen Sink’s 1990 Wendel Comix has subsequently been reprinted in Olmstead Press’s 2001 omnibus collection Wendel All Together, which can still be purchased online and (very) occasionally even at bricks-and-mortar bookstores. Besides assembling the entire Wendel series from beginning to end, the latter collection comes (to adopt DVD-Speak for a moment) with "Special Features" and — as Wolf Blitzer enjoys saying on CNN — "much, much more!"

And lest you be alarmed, I assure you that I am way too opposed to animal abuse to ever indulge in this unacceptable fetish myself!

When you’re illustrating a title like that, ticklish cartoon felines had better beware! (Garfield wasn’t available to be drafted into service, unfortunately.)

Something about this drawing’s mischievousness has made it a persistent favorite of mine during the decades since I drew it, and it has spent time on gallery walls more than once when I’ve been invited to participate in group shows.

But now I must bid it a fond farewell, since a longtime reader and supportive friend recently discovered it among the treasures in my web site’s ongoing Garage Sale and PayPal-ed me the money to make it his own.

Bye-bye, kitty. You’ve given me many a chuckle over the years — though not near as many as that fuzz-bodied, rubber-armed, top-hatted sadist with a cane has given you.

Meanwhile, new artwork has been added to the Garage Sale to replace my beleaguered cat. Below see Alan Moore doling out comics-writing advice to Batman, depicted as the late Charles M. Schulz might have drawn the two of them.