Harris Fishman is most likely known better known by his Internet handle of @BeetleMoses. Like a number of other creatives, Fishman made a big splash online and built up a large audience that helped pave the way for a publishing deal. His debut, Beetle Moses: A Comics Menagerie, due out in October, collects the bulk of his online comic strips in a format that’s welcomingly larger than a phone screen and with greater details than Instagram’s image compression provides.
Admittedly, I only learned of Beetle Moses recently and thanks to comics journalist David Harper, who’s talked and written about the strip on his Off Panel podcast and SKTCHD website. I checked out a few of Fishman’s strips and gave him a follow. I’m often delighted when new pieces of his work appear in my feed, enough so that when an advance copy of the Beetle Moses book came up for offer, I was quick to request it.
If you haven’t been following Fishman, his work is wonderfully absurd and craftily juxtaposes the mundane with the odd, in ways that are reminiscent of Gary Larson’s The Far Side. Like Larson, Fishman enjoys anthropomorphizing animals and putting them into strange situations, oftentimes to the befuddlement of human characters, across a two- or three-panel spread. Take, for instance, the hitchhiker a banana truck-driving couple picks up only to discover it’s a pistol-packing monkey aiming to pull off the heist of the century. Or a snail that unwittingly finds itself on a frisbee after mistaking it for a strange flower. When it’s thrown, we’re shown the snail's perspective of traveling at warp speed. In another segment, a chameleon tries to convince his spouse he didn’t spend the night at the bar with his buddies but is unable to sell the lie thanks to his beer and bros camouflage.
The majority of Beetle Moses centers around simple amusement and clean humor. You can tell Fishman is working to entertain himself first, such as when a family calls on a celebrated dog whisperer to find out why their pet won’t stop crip-walking. Other times, he probes a bit deeper, like the crying, teary-eyed SWAT team that is given the go-ahead to open fire on the CEO of Racism, a cuddly looking squirrel. There’s a sad poeticalness to the anglerfish that has washed up on the beach and spends its final moments of life bearing witness to a beautiful sunset and thinking “I might have never known.” In other comics, Fishman explores evolution in silly, improbable, but highly humorous and relatable slice-of-life ways, like the fish that evolved to walk on land in order to escape another fish he owes money to, or what might have become of the dinosaurs if the meteor had missed.
Fishman has a lot of fun exploring the relationship between animals, humans, and aliens, and the wonky, oftentimes surreal, interactions that result from dropping something strange and unexpected right in the middle of it all. A basketball player is called onto the court and revealed to be a whale so large it blocks the opposing team from making a winning play. A mighty swordfish’s assumptions are challenged when he’s hooked by what could only be “the ultimate fisherman to match my power,” and… it’s a little girl’s first catch.
There’s a witty playfulness throughout the entirety of Beetle Moses, even if there were a few strips that didn’t quite land for me or that I just plain didn’t understand, but never any sense of meanness. Fishman never punches down, which is certainly to be appreciated. His art and dialogue are clear, direct, and to the point, producing quick one-liners that largely work as intended. Beetle Moses might have caught on quick with the Instagrammers, but it wouldn’t feel too out of place in the Sunday funnies in another, earlier, bygone era. If you buy a copy, maybe grab a second one so you can clip out your favorites to hang on the fridge, like we used to back in the day. You can’t do that with your phone.