The Angriest Dog in the World — is a comic strip by american film director David Lynch. It is about the dog that is very-very angry because the world around is quite obviously unbearable and is completely unmitigated piece of undeniably stinking feces that is surprisingly undeservedly fecund for one activity — relentless barking at the breaths end.
As the opening paragraph says: “The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. Bound so tightly with tension and anger, he approaches the state of rigor mortis.” (Imagine Don LaFontaine saying that.) David Lynch once explained the reasons behind the anger in the interview, he said: “That’s a mystery. Certain clues come from the world around him.”
The strip was conceived in 1973 when Lynch was in the midst of the shooting of Eraserhead film. Which was, for the lack of a better words, “tumultuous and conspicuously frustrating”. As the production of the film was going in a not very smooth direction (let’s say it was a bit rocky) — it started to take a significant toll on Lynch himself who seemed to have reached the tipping point in an attempts to keep things from falling apart. He started to slowly but surely snap — bit by bit he succumbed to a slow motion wreck that his life was turning into.
The strip was conceived in 1973 when Lynch was in the midst of the shooting of Eraserhead film. Which was, for the lack of a better words, “tumultuous and conspicuously frustrating”. As the production of the film was going in a not very smooth direction (let’s say it was a bit rocky) — it started to take a significant toll on Lynch himself who seemed to have reached the tipping point in an attempts to keep things from falling apart. He started to slowly but surely snap — bit by bit he succumbed to a slow motion wreck that his life was turning into.
Hopefully, around the same time, he discovered the joys of transcendental meditation and started to direct his obtuse frustrations and obvious desperations into a more creative direction. As he himself said: “I don’t know why I chose a dog. It has more to do with people and that the idea that anger is so intense… I was curious about anger. Once you’re angry, you’re really, really angry.” Thus came “The Angriest Dog in the World”.
It stayed a little personal venture for quite a long time before it first appeared in press in 1982 in LA Reader. As Richard Gehr, the editor of LA Reader during that time, recalls: “David Lynch called up the editor James Vowell, and said, ‘Hi, I’d like to do a comic strip for you,’ and James wisely said, ‘OK.’ And David Lynch said, ‘Well, it’s kind of a weird concept. There’s only like one…part.’ And James said, ‘Well, OK, let’s see how it goes.’ “.
And so every week Lynch had called the editorial office and dictated “the script” to the editors. Then the editors would send “it” to the production department who would clean the balloons from the previous installment and write in the new ones.
The strip showed up here and there in various magazines and newspapers (including Dark Horse Comics’ Cheval Noir) over the years up until 1992. After that it continued to appear occasionally on Lynch’s official website before slowly slipping into complete oblivion. Currently it is merely a footnote in the Lynch’s oeuvre but undeservedly so as it is one of his most uncompromising and surprisingly relatable works.
It stayed a little personal venture for quite a long time before it first appeared in press in 1982 in LA Reader. As Richard Gehr, the editor of LA Reader during that time, recalls: “David Lynch called up the editor James Vowell, and said, ‘Hi, I’d like to do a comic strip for you,’ and James wisely said, ‘OK.’ And David Lynch said, ‘Well, it’s kind of a weird concept. There’s only like one…part.’ And James said, ‘Well, OK, let’s see how it goes.’ “.
And so every week Lynch had called the editorial office and dictated “the script” to the editors. Then the editors would send “it” to the production department who would clean the balloons from the previous installment and write in the new ones.
The strip showed up here and there in various magazines and newspapers (including Dark Horse Comics’ Cheval Noir) over the years up until 1992. After that it continued to appear occasionally on Lynch’s official website before slowly slipping into complete oblivion. Currently it is merely a footnote in the Lynch’s oeuvre but undeservedly so as it is one of his most uncompromising and surprisingly relatable works.
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Technically, “The Angriest Dog in the World” is a constrained comic — the one that confines itself in set of particular rules in order to get above the profane routine. The strip itself is very simple. It is starkly black and white and contains four panels plus an introduction. The panels remain the same in every strip — it is astoundingly static (except for one time when half of them burned off for some reason). Panels contain a dog who lays in the backyard attached to a chain, growling relentlessly while random and seemingly disconnected phrases come from the window of the bland suburban house. And then it is dark and the dog is still there, straining on a leash, barking on an infinite loop, exhibiting severe hostility towards the world. There is also a factory far away belching the blackest smoke into the sky with no visible effect. And a tree, because there must be a tree in a backyard. Lynch once commented on this: “I just drew the tree and the dog. I got the idea that nothing would change pictorially. I like the idea that nothing would change.”
(In fact — you can see the seeds of Lynch’s later project here — flash series “Dumbland” and you can view his video for Moby’s “Shot in the back of the head” as a spiritual companion).
Curiously, but the titular dog is just there. It is merely a piece of background with nothing else to do but growl. The dog serves as a bait, a memorable hook for the readers attention. The dog looks a like a crocodile of sorts — stretched in a futile attempts to get something. A certain detail that sticks. While all the “action” comes through the window.
While the information given to the reader is scarce and limited — you can actually piece together what is going on. There are no indications who says what but there are some names. The family in the house — Bill, Sylvia, Pete and Billy Jr. are somewhat related to each other, bound together by the confinement of their home. They’re often trying to be nice with each other, showing some wit and then slip into arguing, trying to put out their frustrations and let the steam blow off. In other occasions they’re intensely trying to muse on meaningful topics resulting only in spiteful ripostes and tasteless observations of some sort of enigmatic manner or dumbfounding silence. One of the most horrifying strips contains only one word balloon in the last panel (which is usually left with no balloons) saying “It doesn’t get any better than this”. Considering every element shown to you — it is almost possible to feel the chill going through you.
The nature of questions and responses tells a lot about the atmosphere in the house. Some members of the family are deeply frustrated with their lives. The others keep the faith and look for answers to some fundamental and ultimately meaningless questions. The most prominent of the latter is call-response “Bill, what is your theory is relativity?” — “Life is shit2”. (Nuff said).
The other phrases like “Woe is me”, “Let’s merge” or “There is a reason usually for everything” or “There are people dying living here” or “Some weeks nothing is funny” read like some sort of Zen minimalist concrete poetry albeit somewhat stubborn in concept and mind-numbing by its sheer banality of execution.
Every speech balloon represents some eternal truth about absurdities and injustices of life and it is disgustingly, infuriatingly awful. Sometimes you get horrendously clumsy attempts at anecdotes, for example: “Did you know that Pinnocio loved birds?” — “He did?” — “He even had a woodpecker”. Aw… This is intentionally corny beyond reason.
It shows the contents and the limits of the worldviews of the characters. They are rampantly unable to express their thoughts and that results in a hostile demeanor and bleak mood with a hopeless cheers. Words don’t express what they mean. Not even close. And you can feel the distance between what they say and what they possibly mean. None of them wants to be there, they want to do something else somewhere else but they don’t know what exactly and how. Just like the titular dog they’re chained and too angry to do something about it. They’re numbed, battered, bound and gagged by the life itself. Contaminated with self-hatred for the lack of miraculous skills. Filled with utter horror of failing to succeed and finally realize their ambitions. They strive for more meaning, they long for irrational solution of their situation. Sounds like something anyone can encounter.
And that is what makes “The Angriest Dog in the World” such a relatable piece. It has nothing really strange or off-putting. It contains merely a snapshots of everyday life taken out of context. Life of people whose guts are torn away with salvo and a gust of wind and filled with minced meat and then turned into a fancy sausage in a lovely bag with funny sticker and a discount for the highest honor of “staying behind for too long”. People who had their balls and brains put into a vice and twisted around for a whole fucking week again and again and again.
In the end — it doesn't matter what Bill, Sylvia, Pete and Billy Jr. say. It is irrelevant. It’s merely a placeholder for something you, the reader, can put there instead. We all have such moments and we all catch such glimpses of other peoples recurring torments.
Technically, “The Angriest Dog in the World” is a constrained comic — the one that confines itself in set of particular rules in order to get above the profane routine. The strip itself is very simple. It is starkly black and white and contains four panels plus an introduction. The panels remain the same in every strip — it is astoundingly static (except for one time when half of them burned off for some reason). Panels contain a dog who lays in the backyard attached to a chain, growling relentlessly while random and seemingly disconnected phrases come from the window of the bland suburban house. And then it is dark and the dog is still there, straining on a leash, barking on an infinite loop, exhibiting severe hostility towards the world. There is also a factory far away belching the blackest smoke into the sky with no visible effect. And a tree, because there must be a tree in a backyard. Lynch once commented on this: “I just drew the tree and the dog. I got the idea that nothing would change pictorially. I like the idea that nothing would change.”
(In fact — you can see the seeds of Lynch’s later project here — flash series “Dumbland” and you can view his video for Moby’s “Shot in the back of the head” as a spiritual companion).
Curiously, but the titular dog is just there. It is merely a piece of background with nothing else to do but growl. The dog serves as a bait, a memorable hook for the readers attention. The dog looks a like a crocodile of sorts — stretched in a futile attempts to get something. A certain detail that sticks. While all the “action” comes through the window.
While the information given to the reader is scarce and limited — you can actually piece together what is going on. There are no indications who says what but there are some names. The family in the house — Bill, Sylvia, Pete and Billy Jr. are somewhat related to each other, bound together by the confinement of their home. They’re often trying to be nice with each other, showing some wit and then slip into arguing, trying to put out their frustrations and let the steam blow off. In other occasions they’re intensely trying to muse on meaningful topics resulting only in spiteful ripostes and tasteless observations of some sort of enigmatic manner or dumbfounding silence. One of the most horrifying strips contains only one word balloon in the last panel (which is usually left with no balloons) saying “It doesn’t get any better than this”. Considering every element shown to you — it is almost possible to feel the chill going through you.
The nature of questions and responses tells a lot about the atmosphere in the house. Some members of the family are deeply frustrated with their lives. The others keep the faith and look for answers to some fundamental and ultimately meaningless questions. The most prominent of the latter is call-response “Bill, what is your theory is relativity?” — “Life is shit2”. (Nuff said).
The other phrases like “Woe is me”, “Let’s merge” or “There is a reason usually for everything” or “There are people dying living here” or “Some weeks nothing is funny” read like some sort of Zen minimalist concrete poetry albeit somewhat stubborn in concept and mind-numbing by its sheer banality of execution.
Every speech balloon represents some eternal truth about absurdities and injustices of life and it is disgustingly, infuriatingly awful. Sometimes you get horrendously clumsy attempts at anecdotes, for example: “Did you know that Pinnocio loved birds?” — “He did?” — “He even had a woodpecker”. Aw… This is intentionally corny beyond reason.
It shows the contents and the limits of the worldviews of the characters. They are rampantly unable to express their thoughts and that results in a hostile demeanor and bleak mood with a hopeless cheers. Words don’t express what they mean. Not even close. And you can feel the distance between what they say and what they possibly mean. None of them wants to be there, they want to do something else somewhere else but they don’t know what exactly and how. Just like the titular dog they’re chained and too angry to do something about it. They’re numbed, battered, bound and gagged by the life itself. Contaminated with self-hatred for the lack of miraculous skills. Filled with utter horror of failing to succeed and finally realize their ambitions. They strive for more meaning, they long for irrational solution of their situation. Sounds like something anyone can encounter.
And that is what makes “The Angriest Dog in the World” such a relatable piece. It has nothing really strange or off-putting. It contains merely a snapshots of everyday life taken out of context. Life of people whose guts are torn away with salvo and a gust of wind and filled with minced meat and then turned into a fancy sausage in a lovely bag with funny sticker and a discount for the highest honor of “staying behind for too long”. People who had their balls and brains put into a vice and twisted around for a whole fucking week again and again and again.
In the end — it doesn't matter what Bill, Sylvia, Pete and Billy Jr. say. It is irrelevant. It’s merely a placeholder for something you, the reader, can put there instead. We all have such moments and we all catch such glimpses of other peoples recurring torments.
Reader is left with no options but to be put into the role of a stranger who is just passing by and hearing those remnants of a possibly meaningful conversation while thinking about his own things and accidentally slipping into thought on nature of existence. Otherwise “The Angriest Dog in the World” seems to be a pile of bollocks — an exercise in exploration of the concept of pointlessness.
But there is no reason for trying to interpret this particular work. Finding finite meaning in this strip is utterly futile. It has no specific point and is proud of it. It drops your defenses and fears and gets into your head and stays there. You put it in a desolate place subconsciously and then something really callous reminds you of it and you start operate within it, looking for the answer you already know.
If you find some parts of it confusing or incomprehensible — it is probably your own fault. You’re trying too hard. Don’t overthink it. Let it flow. You will need to read it again and again until you get it the way you are. That’s probably the only way to comprehend “The Angriest Dog in the World” — raw, fierce and cutting comic strip about existence.
As David Foster Wallace wrote in his seminal essay on David Lynch: “Is this good art? It’s hard to say. It seems — once again — either ingenuous or psychopathic. It sure is different, anyway.”
If you find some parts of it confusing or incomprehensible — it is probably your own fault. You’re trying too hard. Don’t overthink it. Let it flow. You will need to read it again and again until you get it the way you are. That’s probably the only way to comprehend “The Angriest Dog in the World” — raw, fierce and cutting comic strip about existence.
As David Foster Wallace wrote in his seminal essay on David Lynch: “Is this good art? It’s hard to say. It seems — once again — either ingenuous or psychopathic. It sure is different, anyway.”
Here's a selection of the strips as they can be found in Cheval Noir. This is the best copies out there. Enjoy
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