We watched Citizen Kane last night, a flic my wife, scholar of modernism that she is, is still not convinced is a great movie. She pointed out, and I could not but agree with the facts of her assessment, that the climax is sorely lacking in explosions and martial arts. Well, while I am still fond of the movie, it is merely the springboard this evening.

While discussing CK, Mrs Martial asked if I remembered the name of the basset hound in Bloom County, and wasn't it "Rosebud" and what the hell did that mean? That sent us to the bookshelves to find our Bloom County collections (a fixture of semingly every college student's library in the late 80s; we're bookpackrats so we have two copies of each...).

I was happily, amusedly, laughingly surprised to find that many of the political strips not only stand up to the wearying passage of time, but are relevant to our jaded world. After all, we have a Republican in the White House again. And as a source of humor (black, red, white, or blue) that is the gift which gives until you scream for mercy.

And of course we remembered that Rosebud is the last basselope, not a basset hound at all.
. . .
The cultural jokes, alas, do not make much sense and are no longer funny unless you lived through the history which gave rise to those particular absurdities.