I grew up in Los Angeles and always wished I’d spent a childhood in a far different place.
BERKELEY BREATHEDThe universe throws us some obvious little pitches sometimes, and we need to be awake enough not to let them slip by.
More Berkeley Breathed Quotes
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I was never asked to join the Editorial Cartoonists Of America. No fraternity would have me in college, either. I think they know something.
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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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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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And just as it is with all proper grannies, she ordered me into my pink bunny jammies.
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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.
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I can say that even in the midst of my most cynical comic stripping: Opus shone through with a bit of heart, anchoring the ugly proceedings with a comforting pull of emotion.
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It’s not terribly dignified to have anyone seeing one laugh at one’s own material.
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I could draw Bloom County with my nose and pay my cleaning lady to write it, and I’d bet I wouldn’t lose 10% of my papers over the next twenty years. Such is the nature of comic-strips. Once established, their half-life is usually more than nuclear waste.
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Some of us find our lives abridged even before the paperback comes out.
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I don’t get fan mail. It disappeared with the digital revolution.
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The universe throws us some obvious little pitches sometimes, and we need to be awake enough not to let them slip by.
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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 drew the last image ever of Opus at midnight while Puccini was playing and I got rather stupid. Thirty years. A bit like saying goodbye to a child – which is ironic because I was never, never sentimental about him as many of his fans were.
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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 knew ‘Mars Needs Moms! ‘ would be a movie seconds after the title came to mind. Similarly, I also knew that my daughter would be calling me a dork as a default term of endearment eventually.
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