Naplinks, the Comic.

Annnnnd here's the first post, kids.

Back in the wilds of the pre-weird internet - (okay it was weird but not like it is today!) - there was a little forum called The Napoleon Series (It still exists, but in a much different and much less fun form so I ain't linkin it, hoss.) - where fans and scholars would rub shoulders, rub each other the wrong way and argue about whether the 18th century description of "stout" meant fat or just, well, stout. It was wild, it was crazy and I got to see the Greats of Napoleonic Authorship beat the absolute PISS out of each other verbally over semantics and get in a few licks myself. 'Twas grand and I miss it. There's no way the stuff we did back then would even fly in this day and age. Anywho, I was - and still am - a hack artist who makes shitty art. I did a LOT of Napoleonic art so the forumites wanted a collection, and would gladly pay for it. (I also had a website, and they gladly paid for mugs with the website logo, which was freakin WILD. I wonder if any are still out there, and I'd die laughing if I found one in a thrift shop/charity shop one day.)

So, in ORDER since I can do that here - the entirety of the 2000s Naplinks Comic collection. It's NUTS that this is that old now. Hell, it's nuts that I'm as old as I am now. *shudder* Under the break because it do be a big one.

I really don’t think this one needs much introduction, but I’ll see what I can come up with anyway. While racking my noodle for a couple of good cartoons, I happened to be flipping through my old yearbook from high school and came upon one of our follicularly challenged teachers and had a laugh or three. We used to show up in his class wearing sunglasses because I swear, GirlScout’s honor, that he polished that pate of his with a tin of Turtle Wax and the industrial floor buffer down in the Janitor’s office. The glare off of that dome of his in the pic, and a half-forgotten memory of one of the explanations why the Austrians had trouble at Austerlitz [Napoleon getting a good position wherein the rising sun was behind him and thenceforth right smack in the eyes of the Austrians while they were trying to aim - the glint off the flintlocks blinded them momentarily] combined together to make this cartoon. An evil one, no doubt, with a second subtle joke intertwined within. Note that I have Bessieres in the cartoon, and right next to him, Murat. You’ve all noticed that Murat’s never far from Bessy in the paintings of the era, and I kept that continuity in my art. Heh.

This cartoon was one of those late night “Oh my gawd, I ate too many hot wings and I knew I shouldn’t have drank all that beer” cartoons that seems to be a regular staple with me. I was looking at the Kinson portrait of Bernadotte and I thought “Man, whatta nose. Looks like a stinking sundial!” and voila, the cartoon was born. I especially like the flash of inspiration I had in drawing Bernie’s eyes as little dots. Funnier than hell.

This one’s about Murat and his ever-changing uniforms. Off of the top of my head, I was thinking “I wonder what Lannes would say if he..” and this came about. The “ching ching ching” effect is purely from listening to the hussards of the Brigade Napoleon move out at the trot. Even with the smooth-gaited horses they used, ya still heard it and it stuck in my head until my addled mind found a use for it.

(Again, another insert not from the original book. It's been nearly 25 years, give me a break on remembering it all ha)

This is the sole color plate in the entire collection, and it’s a doozy. For those of you non-Napiacs out there who aren’t up to par on your Marshalate, Nicolas-Charles Oudinot was one of those guys who got the job done using every bit of his anatomy rather than his head [to paraphrase Napoleon]. This guy was wounded something like 34 times in his long career, and survived them all to live to 80 before finally dying peacefully of old age. He’s one of the lucky ones. In my cartoonist’s lingo, which is usually full of abbreviations and nicknames, he’s called the Ammo-magnet for his propensity in getting shot. Here’s a humorous look at why.

This one is a nod to all of you out there who have done the infamous “flaming bag of poo” to unsuspecting victims throughout the years. I thought, what a twisted way to explain one of the reasons Lannes hated Murat and Bessieres. Note Murat’s characteristic “bubble butt” in the cartoon. That guy’s got more comedy material on him than anyone I can think of from the era. I really enjoy making fun of him, even though I really like him at the same time.

Yet another classic tale of Things We Were Told Not To Do; this time all the way back from our mothers screaming at us not to run about the house with the scissors because, God forbid, we would trip and Someone Would Lose An Eye. I just modified it to match the era, and threw in Lannes and Massena [post that hunting “accident” in ‘08] for comedic effect. I think the two play well off each other, and Lannes’ foul mouth really adds the needed punch. The “huphuphup” of the grenadiers ain’t too shabby neither.

This one is a modification of one of the Things We Were Told Not To Do in the wintertime, but for some reason, some eightball always did it and ended up with their tongue stuck to the flagpole and with no way to get it off unless someone actually went and got some warm water to defrost the stupid idiot and the flagpole. Once again, Napoleon gets the brunt of the joke in this version. I’m sure I’m getting demerits on my record of service for this one...

(Not from the original book that I sent out - but I needed to include Lannes laughing at Murat's ridiculous uniforms)

This one is Beryl’s idea originally. This was a product of yet another late night laugh fest; a time when all the discussion boards were jam packed with contributors, my mail list was getting hits off the meter and all sorts of really weird, fanatic Napoleonic enthusiasts were jumping down my throat for one reason or another [be it a disagreement in forum policy; the fact that despite my interest in the era, I’m not a real big fan of Napoleon; or some other burr under their saddle that they saw fit to share with me..]. I was fed up with it and we came up with this one. When life throws you a few eightballs, you grab your cue and start a-swingin’.

Who hasn’t heard of the rumor that the Chasseurs were called “Amants de la Sonde”? Roughly translated, it essentially means that these poor light cavalry were in the saddle so much that a catheter was practically the only way they could, uh... you fill in the blank here; because of the constant pounding on certain body parts that would block other certain body parts when inflamed. The Chasseurs a Cheval, personally brave horsemen and skilled in battle, were also known to be rowdy, skirt-chasing, gambling, cheating, chain-smoking alcoholics - and got away with it most of the time. Here’s an incident when one of them doesn’t.

This one’s from personal experience again on a horse. I could have used one of these back in 1999. Owie. And since we all know that Napoleon was not the best of riders, this came to mind. Probably yet another demerit on my service record. At this rate, I’ll never get the Cross. *grinning*

This one you can blame my ex for. He just didn’t get my interest in the era and was frequently caught calling shakos and busbies “portable johns”. Not in MY range of hearing, mind you. *grinning*. I mentioned it to Beryl in one of our marathon laugh fests on the phone, and this is what came about. A really bad joke and a really bad rendition of the Emperor Napoleon, but strangely funny despite the gross plot....

This one comes from personal experience with a very stubborn, crop-eared, dark bay Quarter Horse gelding with a mind of his own and close to 1000 pounds to support it. Even though he tries to balk when I get him from the field, I still win. Must be the carrots I usually have in my back pocket that makes me the victor in the weekly tug-of-war.

This cartoon is one of those that I often get pelted with rotten tomatoes for. I’m always reading how cuirassiers, when dismounted, were really disabled and had trouble moving due to their heavy gear. A fully-dressed trooper could, at certain times of the year and in certain regions, top 309 pounds. Ye-ow! Well, Beryl and I came up with one of those really bad jokes on the subject. We call it the tortoise phenomenon.