SNYDERMANIA: BARAK OBAMA AND THE GRIGGITS

Sunday, January 16, 2011

BARAK OBAMA AND THE GRIGGITS

This panel ran in the South Bay Easy Reader back in 1984. I'm pretty sure I lifted the cute little aphorism.

For those of you who who are new to the blog, I developed the Griggits when I was in high school. There were teenage daydreams of Griggit tv shows and movies. By the time the Griggits had run their course, there had been t-shirts, cofee mugs, and a comic strip run in a popular Los Angeles newspaper.
Not bad.

As far as Mr. Obama goes, he had absolutely nothing to do with the Griggits.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...: What!?! I did not know this about you and your Griggits! Dig the name!!; January 16, 2011 at 7:59 PM
ISRAEL CARRASCO said...: I like the animations. When are you going to do another video?; January 17, 2011 at 9:03 PM
Tom Hakkinen said...: Haha. It's a funny little creature that "Griggit".; January 17, 2011 at 9:10 PM
JJ said...: I think there might be room for some doo doo here, but I'll save it for another day.; January 18, 2011 at 4:52 PM
Clif said...: Griggits rock!; January 22, 2011 at 8:22 AM
#167 Dad said...: Iz,
Thanks for reading.I'm figuring out my next move on the book publishing. Another video is part of the plan.; January 22, 2011 at 3:25 PM
#167 Dad said...: PAMO and Akseki,
Thanks for the good mojo!; January 23, 2011 at 8:03 AM
#167 Dad said...: JJ,
You're not just an accomplished author and educator.
You're a funny guy.; January 23, 2011 at 8:04 AM
#167 Dad said...: Clif the Lawyer rocks.; January 23, 2011 at 8:04 AM
Unknown said...: I love the Griggits! Ha! I could so see that taking off. It sounds like it actually did. Los Angeles? That's a major deal! The cartoon made me laugh out loud!; January 24, 2011 at 11:51 PM
#167 Dad said...: Kelly,
Thanks for making the number 167 Dad smile!; February 1, 2011 at 1:45 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?