I Miss Bloom County

One of the newspaper's great contributions to and it's coming to television

After more than four decades, Bloom County is in development as an animated series at Fox. For so long, this has been resisted, denied, or just hasn’t happened. But here we are, finally at the precipice. Creator Berke Breathed, the Matt Groening of the era he shared with, well, Matt Groening, might finally get his due.

Though he ended the comic strip series in 1989 in favor of a weekend spot called Outland, Breathed restarted Bloom County with its classic characters and locale in 2015. He still writes and draws new Bloom County strips, releasing them online, on his own schedule (as if he’d invented Substack). The golden age of newsper comic strips is long gone.

The Middlebrow misses when Berke worked the daily grind, churning out short strips six days a week and a long one on Sunday, developing story arcs that not only satirized the politics of the 1980s but seemed to forecast the world we now live in.

Or maybe, much as it seems things have changed since the 80s, they really haven’t. Some of the Bloom County classic stories are eerily relevant today. But first, some background — Breathed set his comic in a fictional, idyllic American town. The cast of characters included humans like womanizing, chain-smoking personal injury lawyer Steve Dallas, Binkley, the likely-homosexual son of a divorced father with custody and his classmate Milo Bloom, a reporter for the local “Bloom Picayune.'' Another kid, Oliver, is a computer genius with a sentient Macintosh. Lola Granola is a nice girl with a weakness for “gobs of hickeys from Duran Duran.” Opus is an orphaned penguin and Binkley’s pet. Bill is a phlegmatic cat who only says “Ack” and has a hyperactive tongue. Cutter John is a wounded Vietnam vet in a wheelchair that is sometimes known as The USS Enterpoop. Portnoy is a hedgehog, Hodge Podge is a rabbit. Throughout, humans and animals come and go as they are needed for Breathed’s stories. There is a basselope.

A classic and particularly timely storyline involved the death metal band Deathtongue, assembled by Dallas in a ploy for fast riches. The band, which produced hits like a “classic teen anthem,” called “Let’s Run Over Lionel Richie with a Tank,” featured Bill the Cat playing his amplified tongue and Opus on the tuba. Clad in makeup and spandex, Deathtongue went on a one stop world tour to a Moose Lodge where they wreaked havoc and attracted the attention of Tipper Gore, who summoned them in front of Congress. There, Dallas was forced to answer for their lascivious lyrics and tendency to convert innocent children into shamanic Satanism. “Off with their heads!” Tipper yelled during the hearings, causing manager Dallas to cave and rebrand his creation as the wholesome sounding “Billy and the Boingers.”

In another story arc, Donald Trump, a celebrity rich guy, was hit with an anchor and had his brain surgically implanted in Bill’s body. Ivanka Trump wanted nothing to do with it, but Donald was delighted that he could legally poop in New York City mayor Ed Koch’s flower bed. Trump was, in the strip, crass, stupid, impulsive, and greedy. Eventually, he even destroyed Bloom County (the town and the strip). Go figure!

The Middlebrow would be remiss writing about Bloom County without mentioning Doonesbury. So be it.

The Middlebrow could write until dawn about favorite Breathed punchlines like “Pear Pimples for Hairy Fishnuts,” and “Death to War Monkeys!” If you know, you know. But decisions must be made, and a favorite Bloom County strip of all time must be chosen. I pick: “The Truth.”

It’s great for its multiple punchlines. Steve’s flabbergasted reaction to learning that Knight Rider, a show about a talking Trans-Am and his human sidekick, is a children’s program, perfectly exposes his manchild character. This could have served as the button to a shorter strip. Had it been published today, this gag might have raised eyebrows from adult superhero franchise movie fanatics as well. Is Tony Stark and his talking armor so much more mature than Michael Knight and his chatterbox gas guzzler? 

Finally, we get the revenge of Opus. Because Binkley does look like a carrot, doesn’t he? We also get some philosophy before the final gag. Sticking the truth in people’s faces doesn’t often make them better, nicer, or happier and Binkley learns this right before his comeuppance.

Bring on Bloom County the show. It’s a treasure that’s been gone for too long.