Skip to main content

It's your comic, Charlie Brown!

If you've noticed the header on the blog here, you'll no doubt be shocked to hear that I'm a big time Peanuts fan. Actually, you won't as I've blogged on it before and I know everyone takes a lot of notice of, and puts a lot of stock in, what I have to say. I’m like Moses in that regard.

So yesterday evening I discovered that the entire catalogue of Charles M. Schulz's incomparable Peanuts is now available online through Comics.com. How very apt, thought I, as I am currently knee deep in David Michaelis' meticulous (not to mention awfully weighty tome, Schulz and Peanuts: a biography. Delving into every aspect of Sparky Schulz's life – and I do mean every aspect, wink wink, nudge nudge – Michaelis has delivered a must read for any Peanut nut (see what I did there? I don’t even try, it just happens. Genius!)

Needless to say, do yourself a favour and get your grubby little hands on this book and set aside some time, at 650+ pages, you'll need it.

But back to my discovery online for a moment; one of the great things in the way that Comics.com have gone about it is the ability to search by the original date of publishing. That way, you can check out what Charlie Brown was up to the day that you were born. Egotist that I am (remember the Hotel California debate?), I went straight back to the glory days of 1977 and found this:

Peanuts

However, unlike the hullabaloo over whose number one was best, I am happy to concede Jen the point here. Linus’ crazed stalker of January ‘77 beats Snoopy’s insane tennis partner that appeared in May any day.

Comments

Sue said…
Loved the one for my birthday. I didn't realise Charles was drawing Snoopy way back then!!!
Kris McCracken said…
Sue, Snoopy has been around since the very beginning. He looked a bit different then, mind you...

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut