I've always had mixed feeling about Fred Basset. These feelings mainly stem from the fact that it's not funny, and generally doesn't try to be, and the fact I've always derived enjoyment out of the way Michael Martin (the artist of the last several thousand strips) draws dogs. I cannot defend that statement -- that' s probably the worst reason to read a comic.
The one thing I consistently notice in Fred Basset, though, is that, even moreso than other legacy strips, it feels old. Not like it's from the past, but like it's some direct mind-to-comic transfer of an British octogenarian's thoughts. This is the best explanation I can come up with why two hippies are listening to iPod-esque machines, double-tied around their necks in a manner I can hardly recommend in some terrible mixture of the past, present, and completely wrong. The world of Fred Basset is a swirling mixture of the time periods its creator neither gives a crap about nor approves of. I'd bet you ten bucks those iPodesques are playing, respectively, the Bee Gees and Michael Jackson.
1 comment:
Darn kids with their ipods can't read a dog's thoughts! What is the world coming to?
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