That’s the conundrum of cartoon stripping, as opposed to political cartoons. When your anger is the driving force of your drawing hand, failure follows. The anger is OK, but it has to serve the interests of the heart, frankly.
BERKELEY BREATHEDA turkey which was no doubt a lively, intelligent bird… a social being… capable of actual affection… nuzzling its young with almost human- like compassion. Anyway, it’s dead and we’re gonna eat it. Please give our respects to its family.
More Berkeley Breathed Quotes
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I grew up in Los Angeles and always wished I’d spent a childhood in a far different place.
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I happen to think nearly everybody – especially those one might find in the odd issue of ‘People’ magazine, including me – is frightfully boring, especially me. And Tom Cruise. Tom and I are alike in only this way.
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I’d be a Libertarian, if they weren’t all a bunch of tax-dodging professional whiners.
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Dear Lord, I’ve been asked, nay commanded, to thank Thee for the Christmas turkey before us…
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I ignore Hallmark Holidays. And this comes from a guy who has sold a million Opus greeting cards.
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I started as a news photographer at the University Of Texas’ Daily Texan.
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If you’ll read the subtext for many of those old strips, you’ll find the heart of an old-fashioned Libertarian. And I’d be a Libertarian, if they weren’t all a bunch of tax-dodging professional whiners.
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The fan letters were mostly answered by professional people that’d done them for a living. And I didn’t have any daily connection with their response to my work. I didn’t have a relationship with my audience. And every artist should have it.
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He comic page is dying; I didn’t want to go with it.
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Doonesbury had the requisite and overwhelming influence in 1980, as it did on any college cartoonist who was paying attention, of course.
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I’ll confess right here that I secretly wish I’d have drawn a strip about a little boy with a fake tiger, going for adventures throughout the universe in spaceships of his imagination.
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I don’t get fan mail. It disappeared with the digital revolution.
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My kids hear me behind my door, giggling like an idiot, and they roll their eyes at the blatant indignity of it all.
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The cartooning was always just an abstraction. It was an income. It was making me famous. It was allowing me to go and do other things that I’d wanted to do.
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A turkey which was no doubt a lively, intelligent bird… a social being… capable of actual affection… nuzzling its young with almost human- like compassion. Anyway, it’s dead and we’re gonna eat it. Please give our respects to its family.
BERKELEY BREATHED