Mental Illness on Parade

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation."
-- Thoreau

Few lives of modern fiction are more desperate than that of Jon Arbuckle, feline caretaker, perpetual bachelor and bon vivant of plaid sportcoats, disco moves and anything else long since consigned to the cultural dustbin.

Were he the focus of Jim Davis' comic strip-turned-cash machine, the cartoonist would have been instutionalized at least once for every million dollars he ended up making by turning Garfield into that blandest of worldwide enterprises.

But even through the mediocre morass of the daily strip, Davis' subversive, dark streak shone through in Jon's terminal dweebism. What this needed was an intrepid element to bring this to light -- which is the blessing of Garfield Minus Garfield.

The premise is exactly what its name suggests -- take the eponymous, overfed cat out of the strip and leave Jon alone with his thoughts.

The result? Desolate, psychotic majesty that not only provides an illumination upon a mild bout of mental illness, but occasionally offers an eerie reflection of some of my darkest moments since being laid off on March 19.

In my previous existence, I'm sure it would have elicited a chuckle or two. In my current life -- one which revolves around waiting for phone calls and coming to grips with the notion that the most fascinating, engrossing days of my working life just might be in the past -- Jon's delusional, schizophrenic existence hits home, eliciting guffaws that confused my girlfriend, who couldn't believe that her encouragement couldn't bring a smile to my face, but a wicked mutation of a bland comic strip could.