Thank you to @rickyriddle for translating this and sending it to me! This is an excerpt from a doujinshi called Choko Choko (fully scanned on Three Lights) that shows the background of the photo of Lead Crow and Aluminum Seiren together. I absolutely love these two (both as individual characters and as a pairing) so I’m really glad I was able to typeset this comic!
And whose fault is that? My mom’s, of course. At the tender, impressionable age of three, decorative duck stickers already adorned my high chair.
At six, the second-most rewarding thing about getting sick was the comic I got to pick up at the newspaper stand, and even at the ripe old age of ten, nothing sent me into joyful conniptions like playing “hit the pan” and happening upon a little three-inch figurine, white rubber painted with a blue sailor suit.
At 17, one of the reasons I fell in love with Gitti was that she’d express great sadness with a mournful grimace, walking along with her hands nearly dragging across the floor, imitating a depressed duck. Later, we spent a week in Denmark and lost it at the fact that he’s named “ANDERS AND” over there.
At 33, I commissioned the artist Kopp for an oil painting. Didn’t give specifics, only insisted that Donald be the subject. As a like-minded genius, he ripped off Mondrian. I hung him up opposite my reading lamp: Donald as a cowboy. It was a gift from Hans.
By now, various pieces of artwork around our house feature the duck. I don’t think I have to mention the fact that he’s also our designated toilet paper holder.
Like many fans, I love Donald far more than I ever did Mickey. In all those years, the mouse only ever turned out to be a boring smartass. I flip past the stories featuring Chief O'Hara. Meanwhile, Donald has lost none of his charm.
His bouts of unbridled rage. His child-like curiosity. His naivety. His laziness. His gullibility. His neverending drive to provide for his family with ever-changing jobs. His resignation regarding his cousin’s unfair luck - Though I can note that artists seem to be giving him a break more and more often these days.
And that he NEVER gives up. NEVER!
Even when he’s struck down and laid out by depression, he still finds the spark of inspiration that shocks him out of bed to terrorise Duckburg all over again.
You can always rely on him.
Though he may end one story tarred and feathered (better: plucked!), banished to Siberia, and unable to face his neighbours or the mayor: By the time the next story comes around, we can be sure that he’ll be standing in front of Daisy’s door with a bouquet of flowers, chest feathers proudly fluffed up.
That’s why I love him! And because he’s just so adorable! Nobody wears scarves better than him. And the santa hats!
One thing that particularly tickles my funny bone: That he’s naked without his little sailor jacket and has to huddle up in trash cans for modesty’s sake!
Hihi! His birdy butt is on constant display, but that’s when he frets over being exposed. Goddess, who makes this stuff up? Was it Mr. Barks? Thank you, Carl. Thank you.
He also drives the world’s coolest car! I’ve been trying to get my hands on that little red speedster (the license plate of which has even been a winning answer on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire”) for my teddy bear, but I’ve yet to find it anywhere.
I used to think his neighbourly disputes with Jones were a little too over-the-top, but since I started regularly reading the gossip rags, I’ve found that he was simply a trendsetter in that regard, too.
Donald is just so great. And such a warm-hearted, big-hearted, kind-hearted duck! Huey, Dewey and Louie were a real handful, way back when! He could’ve just handed them over to the government and enjoyed the simple life of a bachelor, but what did he do instead? Spend 70 years making sure that the little rascals go to school. He can be earnestly proud of his parenting, the three little ducklings seem to come out ahead in every woodchuck competition.
The only thing Donald can’t seem to get a handle on is his uncle’s outrageous exploitation of him. But even in that regard, he’s one of us… Employee AND family member… Drawing that boundary is difficult at the best of times. Maybe, at the end of the day, he seems so incapable of saying “NO” to the old geezer because he really is after the inheritance of the century.
I only fear that he lacks the bit of intelligence necessary to realise that he’s stuck in a Groundhog Day scenario: The old man is never gonna die, the little ones won’t ever grow up, his long-term fiancé is going to keep stalling forever and he, himself, is also immortal.
The ending of each comic strip is only the beginning of the next adventure, which I’ll gladly throw myself into right alongside him.
since it came up yesterday and nobody alerted me to any place it was posted, a very quick gervasio gyro and donald :) throwing out fifty years of tradition or so. it was a bad tradition.
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