It’s kind of about the strange, uncomfortable feeling of reuniting with old friends only to find that the magic just isn’t there anymore - and in turn, about the melancholy “nothing will ever be as good as it used to be” type of nostalgia, of which I am increasingly fond. And of course, a tribute to the late, great, wood-paneled, shag-carpeted 1970’s rec room.
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One Comment
I am disturbed to see that Count Chocula has aged - look at those crows’ feet!
I always figured he was a Chocopire and didn’t age as long as he could drink the sweet brown nectar of life?
I mean Frankenberry getting dumpy - sure. As the dead fruit that makes up his imposing bulk begins to bloat and ferment, with the winding down of his unnatural galvinism induced unlife, he’s bound to sag and expand a bit.
Chocula though, that’s just sad, can he not find enough chocolate to satisfy his craving?
Nice painting that’s for sure — and remember nostalgia is a dangerous condition. It was first named and diagnosed among 16th century Swiss soldiers of fortune, who, pining for their alpine homes began to collapse from deadly ennui after being in Italy too long…I did not make that up.
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