Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Author: admin (Page 66 of 220)

Muchas Smooches, said Hobbes.

Some books are comfort food for the heart. Just looking at them can transport you to a different time and place, and maybe even inspire a smile.

Calvin and Hobbes have that effect on me.

One of my simple pleasures, way back when, was the Sunday Tulsa World – back when it was a big, big newspaper. Size of a fireplace log. Not that it was important to strain a back picking up from the driveway, but I just remember it that way. These days the paper is considerably smaller. (Carriers probably prefer the current version.)

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There were a couple of features that were always worthwhile, even when it was a slow sports week. Dave Barry’s column and Calvin and Hobbes.

More than once I had trouble getting through Mr. Barry’s column. It got to be a common practice that I would read it aloud so my wife and I could enjoy it at the same time. When Dave was hitting on all cylinders I’d be laughing so hard it was difficult to speak. It made for an uplifting way to start off the Sunday.

We both enjoyed Calvin and Hobbes, but it just wasn’t a read-out-loud feature. The fun was in the artwork. The comic strip was drawn by an artist named Bill Watterson for a ten year period beginning in late 1985. Some of you will have grown up without ever having seen it in a daily paper.

And that’s a shame. Calvin is an ornery six year old, and Hobbes is his Tiger. The trick of the feature is that – while everyone else sees Hobbes as a stuffed toy – Calvin and the readers see the tiger as a living, breathing, fun-loving sidekick.

Just like it made my Sundays, I was really tickled to come across a huge stack of the collected comic strips in paperback. Pristine copies, too.

Even though it has been years since I’ve seen them, when I flipped one over to look at the back, I immediately remembered Spaceman Spiff. You C & H fans will remember Calvin’s trips into deep space, where he assumed his alter ego.

When Mr Watterson first introduced Calvin, I wondered about the economy of his artwork. The kid’s hair is little more than a squiggled line and his mouth is usually a triangle. Working with such a simple form, I was amazed at the range of emotions that were depicted. And the background art?

Stuff worthy of framed canvas.

Mr Watterson was able to fill his Sunday comic strip with outrageous depictions of Calvin’s imagination, from dinosaurs, to space travel, to ingenious snow sculpture. (Calvin’s projects were always more than just snowmen.)

They’re priced individually, but if you’re in need of a twenty-years-later Calvin & Hobbes fix, I’ll make you such a deal on the entire lot.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

Lunch: Before

All the changes to the website are causing updates that could be avoided if I could simply quit mentioning the image at the top of the page. In our last episode – involving puckering up at the Blarney Stone – there was a picture of Blarney Castle that I felt needed an explanation.

Well.

I should have left it alone. Next day, new changes. It’s still a nice landscape shot of Ireland until I can manage an outside shot of the bookstore. Raining today. Even while the sun is shining.

Go figure.

At any rate, I needed something to at least tie the picture to the shop, so I photographed my lunch. Cup o’ soup (White Cheddar & Potato), Ham & Cheese sandwich, and a side o’ chips. We call it the Every Day Special. It’s made fresh, to order. And not just the sandwich. That bowl of soup started out as russet potatoes earlier this morning. Peeled ’em. Cooked ’em.

Ate ’em. (Took the picture first, which I promise I don’t normally do at lunchtime. Thus: the title. Lunch: Before I ate it.)

Served the soup at lunchtime until it ran out. Irish stew is at the ready every day. Serving Monday through Friday at lunchtime.

Come visit and sit down for a spell. And maybe a cup o’ soup!

McHuston

Kiss the Stone.

As the story goes, if you pucker up and kiss the proper spot at Ireland’s Blarney Castle, you’ll magically receive the “Gift of Gab,” which allows you to deliver a load of blarney with eloquence. A fellow named John O’Connor described it well, pointing out that “Blarney is something more than mere flattery. It is flattery sweetened by humour and flavoured by wit. Those who mix with Irish folk have many examples of it in their everyday experience.”

During colonial times, there were enough Irish immigrants in America that many of the words they used were incorporated into our version of English. Except, when they said Blarney, it came to be repeated in a different way. You’ve may have heard someone express their skepticism with: He’s full of boloney! Here in the US the term Blarney became boloney and came to be synonymous with “full of bull.” A little less flattering than the original version implies.

In the image, the Blarney Stone is at the upper left of the tall square tower, incorporated into a battlement by Cormac Laidir MacCarthy, who built the place. According to the version related to me, Mr MacCarthy was involved in a legal dispute and sought the aid of Clíodhna, the Queen of the Irish hill faeries. (Back in Mr MacCarthy’s time, it was common to appeal to the benevolent figures in Irish mythology.)

Clíodhna told Mr Mac that if he would kiss the first stone he came across, he would be blessed with an eloquence that would aid in his courtroom presentation. He won his legal case, and later decided to add the magical stone to the uppermost area of the castle he was constructing.

There it remains.

Visitors to his castle are invited to lie down and give the stone a kiss to receive the gift of blarney. Of course, when I touched lip to rock, it simply recharged the thing. I was already full o’ gab, I suppose.

The point of the story?

Don’t really have one. It’s just an explanation as to the image that is currently at the top of the website. (Those of you who occasionally visit the pages may have noticed the hiatus in new posts, an interruption of several weeks caused by technical difficulties.) I’m still trying to restore the site, but there are still glitches. Blarney Castle serves to replace the mountain range that was the object of the last post, an image that is retired for the time being.

The shot is from a vantage point that most tourists will overlook. The car park (as they call it) is to the right edge and a lengthy path leads to the castle, between it and the tall round towers. You’d be needing your waders to take a similar photo.

Of course, you need hip-waders when you’re in the company of those of us spouting the blarney.

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