SNYDERMANIA: Griggit Comics

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Griggit Comics - 1984

This panel ran in the L.A. Easy Reader back in '84.
Yeah, I drew a lot of comics in the eighties, but now I don't care what the temperature is...
sorry, it just kinda came out.

7 comments:

Clif said...: Griggits, yea!; June 27, 2010 at 10:21 PM
Susan R. Mills said...: Awesome! Just awesome!; June 28, 2010 at 8:39 AM
Guely of Sweden said...: Snyder, this is deeper then one might think. And from certain angle kind of true. I won't judge the griggits by their face anymore. If we send to Venice all the artist that are into it for attention , status and money it would be called New Atlantis instead.; June 29, 2010 at 9:52 PM
#167 Dad said...: Clif,
I know you're good for a t shirt purchase!; July 1, 2010 at 12:02 PM
#167 Dad said...: Susan,
Good to hear from you. I need to pop over and see what's doing with my favorite shoes writer.; July 1, 2010 at 12:03 PM
#167 Dad said...: Cate,
Someone in Australia knows what a Griggit is. How cool is that?; July 1, 2010 at 12:04 PM
#167 Dad said...: G-man,
You just intellectualized a Griggit...; July 1, 2010 at 12:04 PM

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?