Happy Birthday, Brutus! Hope You Like Crap!

 

November 13, 1967

Brutus is worth more dead than alive. I've been there.

I like how exuberant this insurance? mortician? is. He really likes his job. You know what they say: "Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life."

People love getting things they don't want as a present. Get Brutus the dieting book if you want but don't get mad if it makes Brutus' birthday tense and awkward.

That couch looks very uncomfortable

March 24, 1967

I wish someone would send me a coffin through the mail. Honestly, I wouldn't be concerned. It's clearly a leg lamp--a prestigious award. You can tell because of the Italian fra-gi-le written on it.

"It's a gift from Uncle Ed!" Uh-oh. It's Aunt Myrtle.

What is Gladys saying about you? Is it just "Brutus went to work today. He really doesn't like his job but he's been doing it for 20 years and makes good money so it'd be stupid to try to find something else, right?" or is it "Brutus is such a loser. He calls himself a born loser but sometimes I think he wants to lose because of some weird psychological need. He's seeing a therapist but we all know that isn't going to help." The first scenario isn't bad. But that second scenario...

And He's Not Going to Use the Elevator

July 26, 1987

Newton Veeblefester. Huh. We need more strips like this. Not stealing an old dying man's money, but, well, actually I guess that is what I want to see more of. Odd-ass gags that make people raise an eyebrow.

I guess it's time to change my name to Newton Veeblefester and go a-grave robbing.

I don't even know where to begin with this one. I guess with the panel where Veeblefester offers to push Brutus around in the chair. I don't care if they are going to the dumpster, this seems out-of-character for Veeblefester.

It's Halloween week so I will be showcasing some old Halloween posts over the next six days. First up, a mysterious fog is killing people aboard ships. Will the crew of the Vulcanus meet the same fate? "The Vampire Fog" from Weird Horrors #1 (June 1952, St. John Publications).

Can I Get Peanuts and Crackerjack At a Football Game?

October 18, 1966

This insurance agent looks like he might die soon. But he probably has insurance.

Brutus dies within the next week. It's clearly murder. "I wonder who did it," the police ask. "Brutus was loudly threatened with death by an insurance salesman last week." "Hmm. I guess this case will remain...unsolved."

Someone could probably rewrite "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" to fit football. We should also play "Baby Elephant Walk" at football games more. Creating or rewriting songs to be about football is probably cheaper than paying for the rights to actual songs.

Check In

May 10, 1966

Better nothing than this:

While the sketch above is from 1983, a continuation was made in 1987 that had a song with it. It's strange how it's still relevant.

People talking in movie shows

People smoking in bed

People voting Republican

Give them a boot to the head!

If Brutus isn't working, then what is he doing? Is he writing a story? Drawing penises on the desk? Wait. I know what he's doing:

Cool S

He's my post about what's going on with Brutus' office.

Green Giant

April 7, 1966

At least he gets a mountain named after him? At least until we go "woke" and start calling it by its original indigenous name.

Apparently the Thornapples are going through a mint green phase for their house. I'm not going to link to all of them, but most of the backgrounds in the house are mint green.

Another Monday

March 29, 1966

I feel this is how a lot of people react when they discover their brain isn't something people want. I would say 99% brains are unremarkable. Especially when you stick your tongue out at people.

Good lord, just fire Brutus already! Does Brutus have a clause in his employment contract where he is guaranteed employment for one year and since this is a comic strip, the year never technically ends?

Was Veeblefester just standing there? Maybe they're on kind of a catwalk overlooking all the slave labor used to make the tea cozies.

Is Hattie Brutus' Best Friend?

February 23, 1966

Viva la Revolution!!

Living in a country where firing squads might become the norm, I hope there are some out there able to convince the soldiers to direct their rifles over to the commander. I'm surprised he was allowed to talk enough to sway opinion.

Aren't roosters and crocodiles essentially the same thing? Modern day dinosaurs? My amalgam of crocodile and rooster--croosterdile--makes a bit more sense. But I give this riddle a solid 4.7 out of 5. It's way better than Gladys' pathetic attempt.

Everybody Wants a Log

January 25, 1966

I'm not a huge movie person, but did actors die on the set a lot back then? Is this why Russell Crowe wasn't in Gladiator 2? Did Paul Mescal kill him accidentally on set? Has anyone seen Russell Crowe in the last year or so?

Remember 2019? Before the world turned upside down? I had stopped doing Born Loser posts in May of that year but returned because 2020 happened and I was home a lot! So I never got to comment on this one or probably any of the others that we'll see this week. I am disappointed that we won't get an original Christmas strip this year though.

It's an artificial fireplace log, Brutus. It's not really going to burn.

Dope Springs Eternal

November 20, 1965

I've never been stranded on an island before. It's on my to-do list. But these islands never seem big enough to even rise above the water. Wouldn't an errant wave just wash you into the sea? I mean, islands in the middle of the Pacific freak me out anyway. I don't see how the people of Napari, Te Tautua Village, or Adamstown do it. Just hoping you don't get swept away into the ocean like Wilson the Volleyball.

Brutus is going to get yelled at, fired, and possibly thrown out a window. And it's a holiday week, too.

Worthless Boy of Summer

November 10, 1965

Technically, if he were to take one of those "when will you die" quizzes, I bet it would say he's already dead. "Am I already dead?" "Oh, no. That would be terrible. It says next Thursday."

Are the Scandinavian countries different than Europe? Maybe she's just more excited about being alone with those Scandinavian men. Or Scandinavian ladies.

I'm impressed the coach puts Wilberforce up to bat so much. Even if there's a "each of your players have to be up at bat" rule, coaches usually put those kids in when the stakes are low--not five times. Although I've been following the Weasels for years now and the whole team is pretty awful.

2022.

Better, Better, Better

August 27, 1965

Those guns seem awfully close to him. I guess they want to make sure this guy dies despite the firing squad being the most reliable, quickest and possibly least painful way to be executed.

He should really be restrained.

How is Brutus so bad at his job? He's in sales. You make phone calls and send papers over to the accounting department--at least that's how it's shown in The Office. I have never and absolutely will never work in sales so all I learn about it is from pop culture.

Cool. Veeblefester Just Stands At Doors and Waits Too

May 21, 1974

Will he still be holding his martini glass when you turn him into a lamp?

I'm a pretty macabre guy but even I find Gladys a bit too happy at the prospect of her husband dying. If you need a lamp, just go out and buy one.

"You don't remember the meeting? We talked about you getting a promotion, and I just laughed and laughed."

Mother Nature Is Angry

February 8, 1974

Brutus' uncle is just giving away the game of Monopoly piece-by-piece? Is this some sort of complicated way to get the family together a bit more? "My family loves playing Monopoly but they never get together anymore. I have an idea..."

I remember in 2012 when it snowed on May 2. It happens--especially if it gets cold and you live near a massive lake--or several massive lakes.

Or, it's the end of the world. Truthfully, I hope it's that.

Saturday Quickie

February 8, 1974

If you want to leave someone out of a will, always leave them a dollar or something nearly valueless so that they can't contest the will. If you just leave them out, they could contest the will under the possibility that you were accidentally left out. Make sure your non-loved-ones know you don't like them. Leave them in that will and give them individual Monopoly pieces.

I feel like that should count. But I'm always looking for ways to make golf seem more interesting.

Death Waits for No Golfer

"There are some mornings that I don't even recognize him, he's so obsessed with golf. He's not even very good at it but still subjects himself to it every other weekend or so. I've prepared myself for the inevitable but I worry about the other kids whose fathers subject themselves to golf."

It's nice that Uncle Ted's high school buddy died doing what he loved but that doesn't change the fact that he keeled over on a golf course, which are very difficult for paramedics to get to. It's very possible that if he was doing nearly any other hobby, Uncle Ted's high school buddy would still be alive.

POB #5: Idilia Dubb

God in heaven, what has happened! Do I dream, or is it reality? In the flight, I have
ascended the swaying stairs of an old castle ruin, and just as I have reached the plateau of them, a
terrible crash comes upon my ear, which makes me sink down into the depths of my soul. With a
bated breath and covered eyes, I listened for a moment, then
turning and looking, what I had to see! - the stairs had collapsed behind me! For a time I stood
as if frozen, without reflection, without thoughts-almost without feeling. I felt as though I was no longer living. Oh, it would be so
been! Only too soon did I return to myself and to my existence, which is without a doubt a horrible, lost one.
I can not find any way to get down there. The walls are high, with only a few projections, very distant from
each other. No pole, no rope, no help far and wide.

O father! O mother! O George and dear Marie! How will you look for me, cry and moan! And I
am here on this lonely, abandoned, desolate tower, and have no means of giving you a sign of my life

I've called all day, but no one has heard me. My voice, I believe, is not enough. At
the edge of the hole into which the staircase is cast down, I do not dare me, lest I go down
would fall. In the first moment of terror, I hurried to him, but the dizzying depth and
darkness of the darkness gave me so much relief that I half-faintly staggered. All the
sheets of my sketchbook I have copied and thrown down one by one. Some I saw over the trees,
others flying into the water. Oh, I could have done it! But I close the high wall of the parapet.
In vain I tried to swing myself up to the edge; My powers were not enough. As long as I
could move the arms, I blown with the handkerchief. Nothing helped. And yet I know, father,
mother, George, Marie, you are looking for me with heart, and let me seek. Will no one come to this tower

O my God! I cried all day. Now comes the night. It's getting cold and chilly. I hear the trees
rustling under me in the evening wind; Over me the night birds are rising with heavy swinging wings.

God in heaven, have mercy on me! -

Huddled in a corner, bitterly crying and sobbing, I finally fell asleep. I am
freezing, hungry; The tongue sticks to my palate. Father of all creatures, will not you send me salvation? Should
I be lost forever? Parents, siblings, do not you know? If any of you were here, I
would find him! My heart would lead me, my poor heart, who will be afraid, pain, hunger, and thirst, and
suffocate my own tears. Again I have called, blown, made all sorts of exertions. My
hands, my knees, my whole body are sore. My eyes, my lips burn. In my ears I have
Terrible whirring. O, my God, O my God, shall there be no help to me? One hundred times it was as if
I heard human voices; Clearly I meant to hear the mother calling me. Oh mother, your poor
child, your Idilia! Do not you urge a dark train of your soul here! Marie, George! You must hear me! Hear!
Hear! Your sister, your poor, desperate sister!

Free! All in vain! In Death, I began to loosen loose stones with the nails from the mortar,
and to impregnate them into steps. My fingers bled terribly, and when I once went in pain to the mouth
and felt the warm fluid, I could have ripped myself to drink my blood. My
blood was so good to me! Oh God! It had been my only food for 48 hours. Already I have
chewed on the straw of my hat. But as terrible as I am for food, the horror of my situation makes me forget the
needs. The whole day I piled up the loose stones. Finally, towards sunset
Their height seemed to me considerable enough to reach the edge to which some board steps have led,
but which are now rotten and shattered. I climbed them. The land lay far ahead of me. How quiet, how
happy all! I saw in the surrounding villages smoke the chimneys and
ride a steamboat on the Rheine . Violently I blew with the cloth and thought to notice that I was blown again! The lucky ones
down there thought it was a greeting of joy. Ah, they did not know how much the sign of distress and
despair was! The band's music sounded on the back deck, the bank, the hotel, their arms
The loves! What waves me? Death from all corners of this gruesome ruin. And what kind of death? Father,
mother, George, Marie, would you let me die so terribly, so terribly?

Am I still alive? - It seems to me that I've been up here for an eternity. The tongue sticks to my mouth, I
can not call. My clothes are hanging in shreds; My hair is disheveled; I think I am deaf;
I hear nothing more, the world is as extinct. Yesterday, two burrows
flew up , and sat down on the edge, weary with the flight. It was the last happiness that was my part, a greeting
from the world, from life. When they flew away, I watched them for a long time, I thought they had to fly straight
to mine and bring them news of my misery.

This is, I believe, the fourth day! Day? The Fourth Amendment to Hell! Yesterday I felt as if I was listening.
Everything was terribly dead and still; I was as in the grave, without feeling, without thought or sense. Suddenly I heard
my name as if from afar, as we call from our house in Edinburgh. I pulled myself up and
climbed up again the piled stones; Already I could not see any more! It lay like a veil
before my eyes. In the sway, the underlay dissolved, and I fell with the stones to the ground.

How long I lay, stunned by the trap, I do not know. All I know is, my death is certain. Once
more I will pray for the salvation of my soul, for you, father, mother, George and Marie. Then I will see whether I
still have strength to drag myself to the dark hope of the tower and to fall down. Oh, why did not I do it
right away.

Father in heaven, be merciful to my soul.

Idilia Dubb and her family were originally from Scotland. In the late spring of 1851, The Dubbs, Idilia, her mother and father and brother and sister took a trip to Germany. On their trip, they visited Lehneck Castle in the city of Lahnstein along the Rhine River. Idilia, wanting to record a view of the river, climbed the dilapidated stairs in the abandoned castle to the top of the pentagonal tower. With her sketchbook in hand, she was to start drawing the magnificent view from the castle but the wooden stairs collapsed trapping her in the tower.

No one knew that she had went up there and all expected her for dinner that evening. When Idilia didn't show up, the police were notified and a search went out. Everywhere and everything was searched. The only place that wasn't was Lahneck Castle. Fearing the worst, Idilia's family hesitantly and despondently, returned to Scotland. Idilia screamed and waved at whoever she could from the tower but no one heard, no one saw, no one cared, no one came.

In 1860, Lahneck Castle was finally going to undergo repairs. Workers climbed to the top of the tower and found a skeleton in tattered clothes, some pages of a sketchbook nearby. Words scrawled on the pages told the story of the final days of Idilia Dubb. Her parents were brought in from Scotland, her remains identified and taken home.

Most people agree that Idilia Dubb did not really exist, that her diary is a fraud, and that her tale of tragedy is just that: a made-up story. Researchers have been unable to find evidence of the Dubb family anywhere in Scotland and that her diary is in such good condition despite being exposed to the elements for nine years.

Is the story of Idilia Dubb a complete fabrication? Is it a mix of truth and fiction? We will likely never know.

Tauy Creek Digest #37: The Death of Charles Kizer

Everything was normal Saturday, October 20, 1917. Charles Kizer went to work at the farm of William Zirkle, something he had been doing since the summer began, and when the work day was over, he left the Zirkle farm and headed home. He would never make it.

Charles Kizer, at the time 33-years-old, was the son of Alex and Mary Jane Kizer. The Kizers owned land half a mile east of the Shawnee County line along present-day North 1500 Road. Based on what I can tell from newspaper articles, Kizer would spend the week at the Zirkle farm then return home for the weekend. The Zirkles lived in Monmouth Township in Shawnee County about three miles west of the Kizers. Charles was last seen Saturday evening after eating supper. What was strange was that he had left with his hat and overcoat but not his actual coat. Kizer was missing for a week. A search party was organized the Sunday morning after he didn't return home and while his footprints were found in numerous places, they were did not lead to Charles. His disappearance gripped Kanwaka and Clinton Townships and his parents thought the worst.

Headline to Lawrence Journal-World, Oct. 22, 1917

Charles Kizer's body was found in the corn field of John Hultz five miles southwest of the town of Clinton. That Charles was so far from home, Mary Jane knew that it had to be foul play. Charles had left the Zirkle house at around 9:30 at night. Initially it was believed that Charles suffered a "bout of insanity" but showed no signs of anything being wrong when he was at the Zirkle's. His body was taken to Cross Undertaking for an autopsy. Sadly, the doctor found no cause of death and it was determined that Charles "had a mental aberration" and died of exposure.

Autopsy report from the Lawrence Journal-World, Oct. 30, 1917.
Note Kizer's name is spelled wrong.

Charles' body was returned to his parents where a funeral was held on October 30. He was buried in Clinton Cemetery. On November 21, a card of thanks was in the Lawrence Journal-World thanking friends, family, and neighbors for their kindness and floral offerings during the death and funeral of their son and brother.

Card of thanks. Lawrence Journal-World, Nov. 21, 1917.

Mary Jane must not have ever gotten over the loss of her son as newspaper reports mention several bouts of sickness when friends and relatives would visit, back in the days when going across the county was considered news. Mary Jane passed away, at her home, on April 6, 1922 and was also buried in Clinton Cemetery. Alex would pass four years later in 1926 and was buried next to his wife.

The Kizers were a prominent family in Douglas County with the family name scattered throughout Kanwaka and Clinton Townships, mostly in Bloomington.

Tauy Creek Digest #26: Status Update

Every morning was a routine for Owen. He would get up and go downstairs, get some coffee made, and sit down to check his social media on his phone. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Tumblr, he'd check them all. His wife, Emma, usually came down shortly after him and today was no different. "Morning, honey. Do you remember that funeral we went to last February?"

"You mean the one for your Mom?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Of course I do, why?"

"This," Owen held his phone out for Emma. Pulled up on the screen was a Facebook status reading: "There is no better donut in town better than Joe's. MMmmmm."

"Oh, that is weird," Emma said. "Maybe it's a scheduled post."

"Pfft. Mom barely knew how to use Facebook let alone a site that could schedule something. Also, why would she schedule something almost two years ago? And, why an update about eating? How would she know she'd be eating Joe's doughnuts two years into the future?"

"I don't know. Comment or Like it and see what happens. Maybe it's a Facebook glitch. Maybe Facebook reposted a status she had already posted."

"That's a very disturbing glitch then," Owen looked back at his phone. "Should I report it?"

"You do what you want, honey."

"She's dead, right? We buried her."

"Do you want to go to the cemetery and make sure she didn't dig her way out and shuffle to the library to use their computers?"

"She also stopped to get doughnuts. Don't forget that. Also, she doesn't need to get out of the grave. Does cell signal go six feet underground?"

"And through a thick wooden casket and whatever they use as a casket vault?"

"Is that a 'no?'"

"Maybe her account was hacked. I say report it. Send her a chat message and see if someone responds."

"What if someone does respond and it's really her?"

"I don't think it will actually be her," Emma said. "If someone starts talking to you, ask them a question only she would know."

Owen stared at his phone and his Mom's status update. "Corey never updated his status after he died."

"What?"

"My Facebook friend who died five years ago. He's never updated his status."

"I guess you just want to sit there and act surprised about this," Emma sighed. "I've already given you ideas of what to do. Do them or don't. I don't care."

"Aah! Someone just Liked the status!" Owen exclaimed.

"Do they not realize she's dead?"

"Either that or they didn't notice whose profile it was," Owen locked his phone and stood up. "I'm going out. I need to check out a couple things before I go ahead and report this."

Owen left the house and started driving. After driving across town, he pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex. He went upstairs to what used to be his Mom's apartment and knocked on the door. The new occupant answered and looked questioningly at Owen. "Yes?"

"Hi, my name is Owen and my Mom used to live here. She died a couple years ago and I wanted to ask you if you've seen her around lately. Has your computer mysteriously turned on or have you felt any cold spots in your apartment?"

The person closed the door on Owen.

"Thank you for your time."

After the apartment, Owen drove to the cemetery and parked near the row his mother was in. Her name, birth and death dates were carved into the stone. Grass grew evenly over the grave and hadn't been disturbed since it was filled. He got out his phone and went back to the post. There was now five Likes under the update.

Owen returned home and tossed his phone onto the counter. "I don't know," he said, frustrated. "I guess I'll report it. Their Help section says to contact them so we'll see what they say."

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling with all of this," Emma said. "You seem to be handling this well."

"It's just some weird hack or something. Instead of posting spammy malware-laden articles about celebrity nip slips, they post legitimate sounding status update to confuse people. It makes perfect sense. There. Email sent. Facebook will get back to me as soon as possible," Owen went back to the status update and smiled. "Heh, look at this."

Underneath the update was a comment that read 'Aren't you dead?' Both Owen and Emma chuckled at it. Owen then Liked the comment.

Tauy Creek Digest #3: Back From the Dead

It took a couple weeks but I finally found a route that I liked to run. North along Garfield to 15th, west to Collins Trail and then follow that until reaching 19th Street and then back home. It was a good route with an equal amount of everything a runner should encounter. It also went through some decent neighborhoods with houses I liked to look at. Over the next couple of weeks I became very familiar with my route and what I saw when out on my runs.

After a couple weeks, I began noticing someone looking out of the window of one of the houses I pass by. It happened everyday for a week and it was like they were purposefully waiting and watching for me. As I would look when running by, the figure started looking familiar to me. Finally, I stopped at the house and went up to the door. I knocked and waited for an answer. Shockingly, the door opened and I was amazed at who I saw standing before me.

"John?" I questioned.

"Hey, Ben. Long time, no see," John welcomed and shook my hand. "I've been seeing you running. Kept thinking I'd go out and meet you or you'd come up here. I'm glad you finally did."

"It's great to see you, man. I went into the house and John closed the door. "It's been a long time. We've all really missed you. You know, since you're supposed to be dead."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," he gritted his teeth in a cheesy smile. "I had to. My life had just gotten so complicated that I needed a clean slate."

"A clean slate? Your friends, your sister, all mourned you. How did you even get away with it?"

"Jenna works for a mortuary. She helped make sure no one knew I didn't die."

"We had a service for you," I said.

"And I really do appreciate that. Jenna told me about it. Said everyone was very sad. I wish I could've been there."

"You were supposed to be!"

"I said I was sorry. I had to start fresh. My exes were all up in my ass, I had been taking more and more drugs, and drinking way too much way too often. Let's not forget my chronic unemployment."

"And killing yourself off had made all that better?"

"Yeah. I haven't heard thing one from my exes, my drug use is minimal and I haven't had a drink since my death," John happily said.

"What were your exes upset about?" I asked him. We sat down on the couch, on opposite ends, which started making this all seem normal.

"They just wouldn't leave me alone. Always arguing with me, coming to me when the guy they were seeing hurt them in some way. I swear to God that I had sex with them more often while we were broken up than when we were dating."

"Yeah, that sounds terrible," I sarcastically moaned.

"But like I said, I needed a clean slate."

We continued talking for several hours until we had finished catching up. As I left, John made me promise not to tell anybody. I reluctantly made the promise, unsure if I was going to keep it but who would believe if I did tell them. We shook hands again and I waved good-bye as I ran back home.

+*~*+

The next day, I drove to John's house to see him. I walked up to the door and knocked. It took longer for the door to open but, then again, he wasn't expecting me. Instead of John, there was another man. "Yes?" he answered.

"Um, I was here yesterday and there was a man here. His name is John," I said.

"Oh. John called me last night. He said that he had to leave right away. He told me to keep the rent for the month so I didn't question it. Cleaned the place up good, too," the man opened the door for me to show me a completely empty house instead of the well-furnished one I saw yesterday. "He'd been here only a couple of months. He was probably my best tenant. Oh, well."

"And he didn't leave you any forwarding information?" I asked.

"Nope, and the only phone number he gave me was a landline."

"And that didn't seem strange?" I questioned.

"As long as they don't do significant damage to my property and pay the rent, I don't care what my tenants do."

I sighed frustratedly. "Thank you. Sorry to bother you." I walked away, the landlord closing the door behind me. I got back in my car and drove away, thinking about my now twice-dead friend.