SNYDERMANIA: snYder CoMics #12

Friday, April 23, 2010

snYder CoMics #12

11 comments:

Momma Fargo said...: No comprendo! Nine~ Nine~Dumbkopf! Sheist! Puto!

Manos arriba! Silencio!; April 23, 2010 at 7:39 PM
#167 Dad said...: Aha, a speaker of Sperman!; April 23, 2010 at 7:41 PM
CATE said...: Speedy Gonzales, das ist mucho lustig :D; April 23, 2010 at 9:33 PM
Angie Paxton said...: Hey, I saw that you commented on my blog, but I don't know if you saw that I gave one of those awards to you. Hope you have a great weekend!; April 23, 2010 at 11:15 PM
JJ said...: Es muy spaßhaft. Danke.; April 24, 2010 at 12:30 PM
Anonymous said...: Sperman. Love it :); April 24, 2010 at 6:10 PM
#167 Dad said...: Cate,
"Donde esta das lustighaus?"; April 28, 2010 at 5:32 PM
#167 Dad said...: Angie,
Thanks for the honor.; April 28, 2010 at 6:05 PM
#167 Dad said...: JJ,
Ya,ya - Henny Ypungman es muy spaßhaft.; April 28, 2010 at 6:50 PM
#167 Dad said...: Wendy
Ich habe pesado in ein cabesa...; April 30, 2010 at 5:53 PM
Blues said...: No comprendo, péro soy alemán. Oops! :o); June 7, 2010 at 12:57 AM

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?