David, I completely understand your fixation with Nancy. She had the same bizarre attraction for me as a child. As did Dondi -- another strange and forlorn child of the comic strips.
They were both particularly inviting targets on Sunday morning for attack with a flattened blob of silly putty. As you peeled back the silly putty, a perfect mirror image came off the page with it. Slowly stretching and poking the putty, their images would twist and deform, but remain somehow recognizable until you wadded it up for another go.
David, I completely understand your fixation with Nancy. She had the same bizarre attraction for me as a child. As did Dondi -- another strange and forlorn child of the comic strips.
They were both particularly inviting targets on Sunday morning for attack with a flattened blob of silly putty. As you peeled back the silly putty, a perfect mirror image came off the page with it. Slowly stretching and poking the putty, their images would twist and deform, but remain somehow recognizable until you wadded it up for another go.
I've had the same fascination with Nancy -- but even more with Sluggo. He lives alone, in a shack with a hole in the roof! And he wears clothes my grandfather wore 40 years ago. How could anyone not love this kid?
(I will disagree with David, though -- Nancy has rarely been funny in a humorous way, but some of the strips from the '50s and '60s are so surreal they provoke a shocked kind of laughter.)
TValley, to deepen your understanding of the word "mutant", I recommend Marvel Graphic Novel #4: The New Mutants.
They were both particularly inviting targets on Sunday morning for attack with a flattened blob of silly putty. As you peeled back the silly putty, a perfect mirror image came off the page with it. Slowly stretching and poking the putty, their images would twist and deform, but remain somehow recognizable until you wadded it up for another go.
They were both particularly inviting targets on Sunday morning for attack with a flattened blob of silly putty. As you peeled back the silly putty, a perfect mirror image came off the page with it. Slowly stretching and poking the putty, their images would twist and deform, but remain somehow recognizable until you wadded it up for another go.
(I will disagree with David, though -- Nancy has rarely been funny in a humorous way, but some of the strips from the '50s and '60s are so surreal they provoke a shocked kind of laughter.)