Goodbye Opus

Ah, me.

The thirteenth of the month is indeed an unlucky day and your correspondent finds himself mourning a piece of news that’s been out since last Thursday, 9 October.

After close on thirty years, it is the end of the line for comicdom’s greatest Penguin. The strip has been moving in an ominous direction for several weeks, now and finally it is official. November 2nd sees the last ever appearance of Opus the Penguin in his own, or if creator, Berke Breathed is to be believed, any other strip.

Opus, originally conceived as a one-shot gag in the award-winning and frequently political Bloom County, went on to become a core player in the series. He also appeared in the follow-up comic Outland before starring in his own strip. Along the way he’s been a world traveler, a heavy metal tuba player, a contender for vice president, and, perhaps most importantly, an everyman philosopher.

Opus is being retired.

Goodbye Opus

Ah, me.

The thirteenth of the month is indeed an unlucky day and your correspondent finds himself mourning a piece of news that’s been out since last Thursday, 9 October.

After close on thirty years, it is the end of the line for comicdom’s greatest Penguin. The strip has been moving in an ominous direction for several weeks, now and finally it is official. November 2nd sees the last ever appearance of Opus the Penguin in his own, or if creator, Berke Breathed is to be believed, any other strip.

Opus, originally conceived as a one-shot gag in the award-winning and frequently political Bloom County, went on to become a core player in the series. He also appeared in the follow-up comic Outland before starring in his own strip. Along the way he’s been a world traveler, a heavy metal tuba player, a contender for vice president, and, perhaps most importantly, an everyman philosopher.

Opus is being retired.

Hiccups

I’m not sure that vitamins agree with me.

I ate my lunch – a rather more healthy lunch than I’m used to: a salad that was part Greek, part Caesar with that squiffy orange rice/semolina stuff in it to bulk it out a little. Very tasty it was, too. Since I still felt a bit hungry, I scarfed back the carrots and hummus that I’d brought as a snack, safe in the knowledge that I have a couple of Granny Smiths available should I find myself on the edge of starvation during the afternoon.

Shortly after this feast, I developed hiccups. Hiccups can be embarrassing in an open plan office, but after what seemed like an age (probably six or seven minutes) I managed to stifle them by the simple expedient of holding my breath until I went green. That took a little longer than usual because I remained seated and it took longer to use up the oxygen. I normally stand up and pace around holding my breath as a hiccup cure, but felt that the sight of a silently pacing Bryan turning a deeper and deeper shade of crimson, eyes all abulge in the office may have drawn comment, so I remained at my desk.

This got me thinking about hiccup cures. Holding my breath always does it for me, though sometimes it takes a number of attempts, particularly if I have been imbibing of the grape or the hop. Before I discovered that oxygen deprivation is the key, however, I had tried a number of techniques over the years, some of which worked in varying levels of the term, occasionally but nothing that worked every time.

One of the most impressive cures was supplied by boroshan back in the late 80s. A bunch of us had been off on a jaunt down the Fulham Road for reasons now lost in the mists of time, though a movie and BEER may have been involved. We were walking back up to the Gloucester Road area through those avenues of posh town squares surrounded by what were once multi-storey homes for the extremely well-to-do, but which are now expensive flats for the slightly less well-to-do, that Kensington and Chelsea specialises in. I developed quite aggressive hiccups which absolutely refused to go. I believe that I tried holding my breath, but was possibly a little too tired and emotional to give of my best, so they hiccups remained. They got louder, too.

Eventually, on the basis that a shock often works (though it is less often that you can engineer a proper shock), boroshan snuck up behind be and leapt on my back with a blood curdling yell that brought an equally blood draining squeak of terror from your unprepared correspondent. Immediately several dozen lights came on, windows opened and curtains twitched. In a bout of tired and emotional shock and annoyance, I recall giving the hapless denizens of SW7 a loud and linguistically uncomplicated diatribe about nosy neighbours who watch but don’t intervene and I could be dying right now, thanks ever so much.

That sort of thing.

Got rid of the hiccups for me, though.

Hiccups

I’m not sure that vitamins agree with me.

I ate my lunch – a rather more healthy lunch than I’m used to: a salad that was part Greek, part Caesar with that squiffy orange rice/semolina stuff in it to bulk it out a little. Very tasty it was, too. Since I still felt a bit hungry, I scarfed back the carrots and hummus that I’d brought as a snack, safe in the knowledge that I have a couple of Granny Smiths available should I find myself on the edge of starvation during the afternoon.

Shortly after this feast, I developed hiccups. Hiccups can be embarrassing in an open plan office, but after what seemed like an age (probably six or seven minutes) I managed to stifle them by the simple expedient of holding my breath until I went green. That took a little longer than usual because I remained seated and it took longer to use up the oxygen. I normally stand up and pace around holding my breath as a hiccup cure, but felt that the sight of a silently pacing Bryan turning a deeper and deeper shade of crimson, eyes all abulge in the office may have drawn comment, so I remained at my desk.

This got me thinking about hiccup cures. Holding my breath always does it for me, though sometimes it takes a number of attempts, particularly if I have been imbibing of the grape or the hop. Before I discovered that oxygen deprivation is the key, however, I had tried a number of techniques over the years, some of which worked in varying levels of the term, occasionally but nothing that worked every time.

One of the most impressive cures was supplied by boroshan back in the late 80s. A bunch of us had been off on a jaunt down the Fulham Road for reasons now lost in the mists of time, though a movie and BEER may have been involved. We were walking back up to the Gloucester Road area through those avenues of posh town squares surrounded by what were once multi-storey homes for the extremely well-to-do, but which are now expensive flats for the slightly less well-to-do, that Kensington and Chelsea specialises in. I developed quite aggressive hiccups which absolutely refused to go. I believe that I tried holding my breath, but was possibly a little too tired and emotional to give of my best, so they hiccups remained. They got louder, too.

Eventually, on the basis that a shock often works (though it is less often that you can engineer a proper shock), boroshan snuck up behind be and leapt on my back with a blood curdling yell that brought an equally blood draining squeak of terror from your unprepared correspondent. Immediately several dozen lights came on, windows opened and curtains twitched. In a bout of tired and emotional shock and annoyance, I recall giving the hapless denizens of SW7 a loud and linguistically uncomplicated diatribe about nosy neighbours who watch but don’t intervene and I could be dying right now, thanks ever so much.

That sort of thing.

Got rid of the hiccups for me, though.