This is my all time favorite boomer comic. The artist demonstrates a passable ability to represent a human, and then creates that unfathomable cubist representation that we clock as a disdainful human face despite it lacking any form or signifier that would mark it as one. Baudrillard is spinning in his grave at the fifth level of abstraction that this comic artist has blindly stumbled into. The juxtaposition between human and other is shockingly stark. It should immediately be clocked that something is wrong with the father's appearance, it shouldn't even register as a human, and yet our brains leap across the uncanny valley between the two and go "Yeah, human, checks out" without consciously realizing the abomination should not pass the most basic tickle of pareidolia.
Literally lol’d reading this. And it’s also so true - before reading this comment, I thought nothing of the father’s appearance, but the more I look at it now, the crazier it becomes.
I do self-criticism constantly because I’m trapped in a ML family where my comrade (dad) criticize me mercilessly. He won’t let me read Settlers because it's Third-Worldism and "vulgar anti-imperialism" is "anti-proletariat"
Read Settlers? Back in my day we would "read" our local party paper before "settling" into our local slumlord's office for some direct action. smh kids these days.