Please don’t accuse this comic of not being festive. I do my best to treat all holidays with complete irreverence. Have a great day throwing up.
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Posts Tagged odin
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Baldur learns about the real world from his “Uncle Loki.” Yeah, it’s about time.
And on a completely unrelated note, happy birthday Abraham Lincoln.
It’s understandable. Not everyone wants to crowd up their mead hall with massive, severed giant skulls. But surely everyone has room for three or four human skulls. Or a few dwarf skulls. Or half a dozen elf skulls. Any smaller than that, and we’re talking rodents. And that just won’t do…
When I was a young kid I once found a dead animal and my grandfather taught me “how to see the bones” by placing the lifeless creature on an ant hill and letting the little buggers have a smorgasbord. I found the whole procedure both fascinating and nightmarish, Practically speaking, it’s a great method for cleaning skulls — and ecofriendly too I might add. I figure crabs probably do a similarly good job, and that seemed a bit more Viking for some reason (I remember someone being eaten by crabs in the movie, The Vikings). Enjoy! 😛
Odin thinks Baldur is building his mead hall all wrong. Skylights,
plumbing, windows… these are modern notions that should be shunned
like a giantess with a rotten crotch!
A proper mead hall is a simple affair: a smoky, windowless room with wooden benches, a fire pit, and a trophy wall on which to display the severed heads of one’s enemies. Odin would rather sit in the dark than take an arrow in the face because someone insisted on having a lovely view of the fjord.
Frigg is excited that Baldur, her youngest son, is finally building his own mead hall and leaving home. Odin warns her not to say goodbye just yet. Baldur lacks the fortitude to deforest a hillside and transform it into a wooden palace of drinking, boasting, and rowdy romping. Right now his little lordship is probably apologizing to some robin for even thinking about disturbing her nest. Meanwhile, Thor is wondering where to put the 30,000 used tires that Baldur ordered for his ecofriendly mead hall.
The social system in Giant Land is being flooded with mutant children. The sons of Odin delight in slaughtering giant males but have no compunctions about impregnating giant women. But of course they are nowhere to be found once the crossbred monster is born. Thor of course is the biggest culprit. Mimir suggests he put a sock on pickle before his next ride on a tuba tanker. I mean, should the gods really be above contraception?
What is it about battle that so excites the spirit? The anticipation one feels before the onslaught when one’s senses are at their finest? Or the beautiful chorus of swords clashing and enemies pleading for mercy? Or perhaps it’s the brilliant colors of the battlefield as the blood of the vanquished seeps into the grass and volcanic rock…
Then again, maybe it’s just the free stuff one gets after victory. Claiming someone else’s stuff as your own is hard to beat.
On a completely unrelated front, a friend of mine sent me this awesome clip of a death metal rooster today. Thanks Niles. Enjoy.
