A few people talked me into joining Facebook back in March (I think), and yesterday I finally posted my first fascinating glimpse into my world. Here's where it led. (And here I thought Facebook was a stupid waste of time!)
J.C. Duffy: I'm peeling a pierogi. Actually, I'm undressing it with my eyes.
Mary Priest: Peeling a pierogi?
Aaron Bacall: Square or semi-circular?
J.C. Duffy: Semi-circular. Mrs. T's.
Where do you get square pierogies? And how much will it cost me to get there?
Aaron Bacall: Lower East Side in NYC. If you are coming by cab, $10,000.
Mary Priest: But what do you mean when you say you are peeling them? I didn't think you had to take them apart in any way.
J.C. Duffy: Actually, Mary, I was just being flip.
Although, one can bite off the edges and then peel back the top layer of dough. And then flip it over and peel off the bottom layer. And then the mashed potato filling is nude.
And so am I.
Mary Priest: Oh, God, I was just trying to take in the image of you flipping through the pierogi layers and then you hit me with that bombshell!
J.C. Duffy: Bombshell? Madam, you flatter me. (Whatever that means.)
Bombshell #2: And that's not sour cream!
Mary Priest: Ewww!
1. Come-hither index finger
2. Trouble ahead
3. Don't get me started, Buster
4. Carrot locks
The Everly Brothers did their crying in the rain. They reasoned that their tears would be mistaken for raindrops, and they were correct.
Scrappy the dog does his crying in the desert. His reasoning is that his tears will be mistaken for perspiration. He is also correct.
Don and Phil had a hit with "Crying In The Rain."
Scrappy paid hundreds of dollars to record a demo of "Crying In The Desert" and pitched it to several record companies. They all turned it down with a form rejection letter.
One more thing to cry about.
I gave my love a kidney,
that had no stones...
I gave my love a highway,
without those orange cones...
I worked my love a mojo
with a hoodoo voodoo juju...
I gave my love a baby,
with no cacadoodie poopoo.
In putting together my wildly enthusiastic previous post celebrating Fusco's 20th anniversary, I came across this letter, which appeared in the Philadelphia Daily News back in 1993. I blacked out the name of the woman who wrote it to avoid a pesky lawsuit.
I don't remember what the dialogue was in this strip, but it had to be funnier than her summary.
I wonder if her daughter, who would be 24 years old now, became a floozy because of the Fusco Brothers.
One can only hope.
NIGHT DEPOSITS turns one year old today.
What do you get the blog that has everything?
How about a cartoon turd with a clip art birthday candle on top?
