The strip is about two guys who hang out together and do stuff.
They don’t exactly have names because everybody knew who they were. They were legends at an ancient Manhattan theater club and the strip started showing up in its newsletter in the late 90s. Sort of as half-homage, half provocation.
One was a major Madison Ave creative guy in the 60s (a famous cigarette campaign), the other hit the big time doing voiceovers for crackers and bumwad. In a club full of characters, they were icons of wit, mirth and willful excess.
They died in the late 90s within a year of each other. Not that the strip was in any way to blame.
It’s called “Clubmudgins.”
The club in question is persnickety about its privacy and quite right. Since the 19-teens its clubhouse and theater has been in a lovely building which was once a stables, which not too very long ago got an exterior renovation.
A genius job of restoration, too—except for the color of the front door which was inexplicably changed from its long-standing traditional red to black. Causing some consternation among the membership. At left is an endless loop of club conflict resolution at work.
Some older members refer to the place as our “treehouse,” for its Peter Pan creature comforts.
They don’t exactly have names because everybody knew who they were. They were legends at an ancient Manhattan theater club and the strip started showing up in its newsletter in the late 90s. Sort of as half-homage, half provocation.
One was a major Madison Ave creative guy in the 60s (a famous cigarette campaign), the other hit the big time doing voiceovers for crackers and bumwad. In a club full of characters, they were icons of wit, mirth and willful excess.
They died in the late 90s within a year of each other. Not that the strip was in any way to blame.
It’s called “Clubmudgins.”
The club in question is persnickety about its privacy and quite right. Since the 19-teens its clubhouse and theater has been in a lovely building which was once a stables, which not too very long ago got an exterior renovation.
A genius job of restoration, too—except for the color of the front door which was inexplicably changed from its long-standing traditional red to black. Causing some consternation among the membership. At left is an endless loop of club conflict resolution at work.
Some older members refer to the place as our “treehouse,” for its Peter Pan creature comforts.