Cartoonist, political satirist, and curator of Binkley’s closet of horrors, Berkeley Breathed, has announced Bloom County’s return to the funny papers. I have a funny feeling that the billionaire blowhard’s candidacy might have something to do with it. Trump looks as if he’s wearing one of Bill the Cat’s hairballs on his head, after all.

This post is an excuse to post one of my favorite Bloom County strips. It requires a set-up. For many years, quite by accident, I lived near the domiciles of religious cults. In San Francisco, I lived on Bush Street a few doors down from the Moonies. I even saw deprogrammers snatch some Moonie chick on the street. In Washington DC, I lived near the Hare Kishnas whom I’ve always called by a different name after seeing this strip:

Hairy Fishnuts is perfection and that’s what I’ve called these annoying folks ever since. The good news is that in New Orleans, I have never lived near the Moonies or Hairy Fishnuts.  But when I had my shop on Jackson Square, I had to deal with an obnoxious guy who cornered tourists and tried to sell them stupid caps. He was a Hairy Fishnut with, uh, hair who dressed in civvies, but never told anyone that their money was going to his cult. After Katrina and the Federal Flood, he told them an even bigger lie: that the money was going to recovery-related causes. We had many run-ins until I told him, “If you take your bullshit somewhere else, I won’t tell your victims where their money is going.” After some  yelling and screaming, he finally relented. A minor victory against the forces of malakatude