When Schultz died I felt a pang that I assumed was gas at first. No, really. Yeah, I love Snoopy, everybody loves Snoopy, I still have my old Snoopy doll I've had since I was a young whipper. But who the hell was Schulz to me? Some old guy with a Great Pumpkin fixation who had a lousy sence of humor.
And then it hit me. It wasn't just about that little bitch Lucy, or the terribly premature balding Charlie or that kid that never bathed. Charles Schulz isn't just a man who died, he's a huge (I mean HUGE) part of history. Peanuts has been around for as long as I can remember, right along with Prince Valiant, Andy Cap, and Blondie ( and they all suck, if you ask me...nobody ever asks me...)Do you have any idea how old the man was before he finally bit it? Well, I don't. But damn he was old. Which isn't to say that he knew anything about the comics of today... But that's not the point...What the hell is the point?! Damn I'm lame. But that's not the point either. What I'm saying is that, even after the man died, I still can't choke down his comics and I wish they'd bring back Outland. But I do feel sad, I'm not so heartless as all that. And I'll kinda miss him in my own way. So what is this? A goodbye? Sure, that'll work. Good bye, Mr Schulz. Thank you for my Snoopy doll.
And for those of you who are laughing at my inability to show human compassion in any conventional type or fashion, fuck you. Bastards.
