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Judd Winick, �Frumpy the Clown: Freaking Out the Neighbors�

Started December 30 � Finished December 31, 2002; 144 pages. Posted 01 January 2003

New Year�s Eve is supposed to be a happy, joyous get together; a place where friends, family and lovers can meet and celebrate all that has been accomplished, while still looking starry-eyed toward the New Year.

Yeah, that�s other people. I think I used to think the same way, but it�s been so long, that I can barely remember those feelings. New Years Eve was ruined for me in 1991, and I never recovered from it.

See, in 1991 I was truly head over heels in love with a girl. We met through work � I was a chef, she was a waitress � all the makings of a feel-good movie. When I first laid eyes on her, I was smitten. She was gorgeous; long red hair, bright green eyes, and a small gap between her front teeth. the fact that she wore garters with everything probably helped. We slowly became friends, then confidants, and finally, lovers.

But that�s taking things too smoothly in the description. She was already seeing somebody when we met, and in fact was living with him. And he was a piece of shit. He was the typical stereotype of an asshole � an alcoholic, a tough guy, and abusive to boot. Now add in the fact that he was a skinhead and then you have the whole picture. I suddenly felt that I needed to rescue her, if not from the booze and the abuse, then at least I could give her some good bands to listen to.

We became closer and closer, and although we tried to hide our feelings at work, it was obvious to everybody we were sweet on each other. These were fantastic times, and while I wouldn�t trade them for anything in the world, they eventually taught me a very important lesson: Do not play the white knight role.

I wanted so much to save her from her shitty existence, that I failed to see any and all warning signs. So while I did ultimately lure her away from her abusive skinhead boyfriend (the same one who stabbed her with a fork one night in a drunken rage), I failed to let her reach closure on her own terms, which is necessary.

I�m no expert on counseling, and when approached for advice I usually note that my father was a marriage counselor � until he got divorced. But I�ve learned something from my savior days, and that�s the fact that women will romanticize ANY relationship that ended to factors outside their own doing.

They get what I call the �Prince Charming� theory, �Well,� they think, �he may have stabbed me with a fork, but I was really asking for it, and he used to be really sweet. I wonder if I�m responsible for him becoming a drunken slob, and perhaps I can save him if I really WORK at this relationship.�

Essentially, that�s what happened to me and this girl. But there was a problem � since I was also playing the savior role, I wasn�t ready to walk away and instead kept pushing for her to end her old relationship and start a new one with me. And so I ignored the signals. Finally, after a severe dressing-down by another employee who witnessed the entire debacle, I gave her a chance at freedom, albeit rather melodramatically. I went home. This was New Years Eve, 1991.

She showed up at my house about an hour later, and we made up. It seemed she had finally come to her senses of who was the better suitor. I couldn�t have been happier. But she couldn�t stay � she had to get some of her stuff from her place and then promised to come back, whereupon we could plan our new life together.

The apartment I lived in at the time was a strange one, consisting of three other people who had very distinct and different personalities, but we all got along very well. What this meant was that if we threw a party, people of all kinds of fashion and mindset would show up, and somehow, everybody seemed to get along. And since this was New Years Eve, you can bet we were having a party.

She left my house at seven in the evening, promising to come back. The house slowly started to fill up. For the most part I hid in my room, awaiting her return. Finally, the thought of the three kegs that I helped pay for being drank without me was too much, and I occasionally emerged to refill my glass. At 11 o�clock there were probably at least 100 people crammed into our apartment, but there was still no sign of her.

I stayed in my room, playing the feedback track on Neurosis� �The Word as Law� CD to keep people from hanging around me, as I didn�t want to socialize. When I did go into the front room to refill my beverage, I took to head-butting people on my way to the keg.

After a while, people stayed out of my way. Finally, the moment of the hour came along.

�TEN! NINE! EIGHT!�

I frantically surveyed the room, looking for my girl, the same girl who promised she would be back before midnight.

�SEVEN! SIX! FIVE! FOUR!�

I couldn�t understand why she wasn�t there. After all, I had given her the opportunity for freedom, and she chased after me to keep our union intact. I kept searching.

�THREE! TWO! ONE!�

It finally hit me that she wasn�t here, and she wasn�t coming.

�HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!�

Everyone around me started to embrace, and in many cases, make out in our living room. I jumped on a nearby chair and started shouting for people to shut up. After repeated shouts, people stopped and turned to see what the �head-butt guy� had to say. The room fell silent.

�TOMORROW WILL BE MUCH WORSE!� I screamed at the top of my lungs. �GIVE UP! NOW!!!�

People ran over and carried me around on their shoulders as the rest of the crowd showered me with alcohol. As bad as I felt, I couldn�t help but enjoy it.

She never came back, and when I returned to work I found that she had quit without notice and moved away to San Francisco with the skinhead.

I went crazy for a while, but eventually lifted myself out of a funk that lasted over a year.

Since then I�ve always had a problem with New Year�s Eve. I�ve tried various routes to avoid funks of depression � switching locales, going to events, trying to break loose. But instead of looking with hope toward the future, New Year�s Eve always seems to go back to that time in 1991, where I reflected on the failures of the last year.

I wanted this year to be different. It wasn�t. And I even thought about this girl whom I haven�t thought about in the last five years. Joe came by Caravan and we talked about the merits and failures of Bowling for Columbine, which was cool in itself but depressing to think that this was the highlight of the night. After he left, I sat in the corner and sulked, answering, �we�ll see� to anybody who wished me a Happy New Year.

So thank christ I read this book earlier. Apparently there are all sorts of pop culture I�m missing out on this comic, which I had never heard of before. The artist/writer was a participant in MTV�s The Real World during the time of Puck, according to the introduction. (Which is very scary � I�ve never seen an episode of �The Real World,� yet I knew who Puck is.)

Anyway, his status led to the syndication of this daily comic strip, yet I had never heard of that. As it turns out, he�s since quit the daily syndicate group, which makes sense �he�s actually very funny, and I don�t think that�s allowed to happen in daily newspapers these days.

The basic story is that Frumpy the Clown moves in with a suburban family and wreaks havoc, which is certainly plausible. What�s surprising is that it�s consistently funny, probably the best comic strip since Berke Breathed Bloom County, which the author admits to being influenced by.

He also mentions Garfield in the introduction as being a source of inspiration, and thus it is so that I can�t berate him for stopping the comic � if it�s not fun anymore, you should stop, unlike what Jim Davis of Garfield notoriety has done. This collection lets him look back without romanticizing the situation, and possibly going back to something that seemed to stab him with a fork.


Rating: Worth new!

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