From MoMA: Chris Ware is a Chicago-based artist and writer who has contributed over two dozen cover images to the New Yorker. Ware’s graphic novels include Building Stories, which was chosen as a Top Ten Fiction Book by the New York Times in 2012, and Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth, the 2000 Guardian Prize winner. His work has been shown at MoCa and the Whitney Museum of American Art. His graphic novel Rusty Brown, Part I comes out this September.
Charles M Schulz drew nearly 18,000 strips over 50 years of his career; while he claimed they were ‘about nothing’, and made up only of ‘little incidents’, “Peanuts’ influence on culture and society is nothing short of seismic,” says Claire Catterall, curator of a new exhibition dedicated to Schulz’s work at @somersethouse. At its peak, Peanuts was syndicated in 75 countries, translated into 21 languages, and had a notional total readership of 355 million.
This is in response to my twitter spat with Elon Musk where I said he was like the villain from Atlas Shrugged and he got mad and called me a chimp for pointing out that the goverment has invested more into his companies than he has, then blocked me.
Social Contract Theory is the area of philosophy that deals with how an individual deals with the society that they belong to. In modern philosophy, it is mostly closely associated with Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Hobbes, in particular, thought that humans were naturally in an "all against all" violent state before civilization, and in order to avoid this, individuals cede authority to a sovereign. Rousseau argued for a more democratic society (although Hobbes was neccesarily arguing against democracy, but merely for a unified society), where instead of a single sovereign, we cede our rights to the will of the majority. He attempted to reconcile individual freedom with this sort of ceding of rights to the majority, or to a society as a whole. For Rousseau, in some sense, in order to fully become free we had to give up some of our freedom, because a society which individuals did not give up freedom would be less free. Although not an example Rousseau gives, we can see that a society where individuals give up the right to own slaves becomes more free, on the whole. If we do not form some kind of social contract, then it becomes very difficult to guarantee any kind of legitimate freedom for anyone, because anyone's freedom could be taken away by arbitrary force.
Camus, while he didn't explicitly talk about social contract theory, was something of an anarchist, and wrote in The Rebel that an individual must always have the right to rebel against an unjust society.
Another night deprived of slumber, Hours passing without number, My eyes trace 'round the room. I lay Dripping sweat and now quite certain That tonight the final curtain Drops upon my short life's precious play.
From the darkness, by the closet Comes a noise, much like a faucet Makes: a madd'ning drip-drip-dripping sound. It seems some ill-proportioned beast, Anticipating me deceased, Is drooling poison puddles on the ground.
A can of Mace, a forty-five, Is all I'd need to stay alive, But no weapon lies within my sight. Oh my gosh! A shadow's creeping, Omnious and black, it's seeping Slowly 'cross a moonlit square of light!
Suddenly a floorboard creak Announces the bloodsucking freak Is here to steal my future years away! A sulf'rous smell now fills the room Heralding my imm'nent doom! A fang gleams in the dark and murky gray!
Oh, blood-red eyes and tentacles! Throbbing, pulsing ventricles! Mucus-oozing pores and frightful claws! Worse, in terms of outright scariness, Are the suckers multifarious That grab and force you in its mighty jaws!
This disgusting aberration Of nature needs no motivation To devour helpless children in their beds. Relishing despairing moans, It chews kids up and sucks their bones, And dissolves inside its mouth their li'l heads!
I know this 'cause I read it not Two hours ago, and then I got The heebie-jeebies and these awful shakes. My parents swore upon their honor That I was safe, and not a goner. I guess tomorrow they'll see their sad mistakes.
In the morning, they'll come in And say, "What was that awful din We heard last night? You kept us both from sleep!" Only then will they surmise The gruesomeness of my demise And see that my remains are in a heap.
Dad will look at Mom and say, "Too bad he had to go that way." And Mom will look at Dad, and nod assent. Mom will add, "Still, it's fitting, That as he was this world quitting, He should leave another mess before he went."
They may not mind at first, I know. They will miss me later, though, And perhaps admit that they were wrong. As memories of me grow dim, They'll say, "We were too strict with him. We should have listened to him all along."
As speedily my end approaches, I bid a final buenas noches To my best friend here in all the world. Gently snoring, whiskers seeming To sniff at smells (he must be dreaming), He lies snuggled in the blankets, curled.
HEY! WAKE UP, YOU STUPID CRETIN! YOU GONNA SLEEP WHILE I GET EATEN?! (Suddenly the monster knows I'm not alone!) There's an animal in bed with me! An awful beast he did not see! The monster never would've come if he had known!
The monster, in his consternation, Demonstrates defenestration, And runs and runs and runs and runs away. Rid of the pest, I now can rest, Thanks to my best friend, who saved the day.