The Man gets credit for this idea. We were driving around in the desert both lamenting the loss of our glasses, but apparently he found his under the seat, whereas mine have been gone for a couple of weeks. Doubtless they will turn up again after I have spent several hundred dollars and several hours of my life replacing them. Anyway, he said our glasses were probably together having little baby monocles. Monocle is a funny word. We also like to imagine our cell phones mating. We are funny people.
Today was a better day, obviously. The Man was a great comfort to me. Of course, staying mostly off the internet is the best medicine. But if you, like many people, find that you can’t do that, if you’re staring at photos of people you hated in high school and former lovers whose lives all look more put-together than yours, there’s always the woman who eats nothing but cheesy potatoes, or old clips from Maury Povich or Judge Judy, and, of course, People of Walmart. It’s crazy easy to feel superior to the rest of the world if you just know where to look.
Anyway, I’ve got your number, basement dwelling neckbeard troglodytes. I know just where you live. In your mom’s basement.
How do people build entire careers on drawing political comics? I can’t even look at a photograph of our new kleptocratic overlords without wanting to vomit lately. There is so much material–so many things that are clearly not OK and therefore in desperate need of mockery–that picking 1 thing out of the day’s new is overwhelming, and by the time you get to the end of the list it’s not funny anymore, if it ever was. There’s too much of it, legions of alleged humans working with all their might to make the world worse for the mast majority of its inhabitants and acting as if it’s perfectly reasonable to watch other suffer and die as long as corporations profit. Who am I even supposed to shame?
It was another hard day. My sister probably had the right idea, getting her Canadian citizenship, but apart from the racism and most of my elected officials, I really like where I live. Still, running away has its merits.
I didn’t feel like drawing a comic, but I drew a comic. Just general stuff; don’t worry. I have The Man to lean on. Everything is a metaphor for something else anyway.
Totally crushing it here.
This comic is probably moderately not safe for work, but why should I care? I don’t have a job. Even so, I got almost nothing accomplished today. The gag here was out of my sketchbook because I didn’t feel like I had any jokes in my tonight, so I just redrew the sketch and colored it in and here we have a pretty terrible comic. I wouldn’t have run it at all but I showed it to someone–the Fox, I think–who laughed, so here it is. Blame him if you’re offended. Just kidding. It’s entirely my responsibility. He just eggs me on, like a hundred other people I know.
Tomorrow I’ll try to make a beautiful bulletin board and it will be much more wholesome than whatever cesspool I pulled this gem out of.
It’s OK to look at reverse mermaid centerfolds. It’s just not OK to share reverse mermaid centerfolds with those who have not consented to view them.
You don’t even have to want to write comic political commentary anymore. It just writes itself, with or without any intention. You could just read the New York Times deadpan at this point and find 3 or 4 jokes already written on the front page. Ha ha ha. There goes your healthcare. There goes your right to drink clean water and breathe clean air. There goes your right to exist if the wrong person decides you don’t conform to their standards. Hilarious.
True story. I don’t talk about it much, but I have had a few deeply spiritual experiences, and this one took place 4th of July weekend, 1997. I remember the date, because when I pulled into my parents’ driveway in the U-Haul, one of the neighbors came over and joked that he thought this was supposed to be Independence Day. Ha Ha. I got in a day late, because the truck blew an alternator and I had to spend an extra night in Ohio. It was a magical vision quest that helped fine tune the compass of my life. And also helped me understand the opposition.
And I keep trying to make my contribution to the cause, and the haters keep stymieing the results.
Maybe the opposite of love isn’t always hate. Maybe often it’s just a total absence of concern for other humans. I’m not saying that there’s no hate—the guys in panel 4 are haters and proud of it—but they’re still a minority. The ability to not care about things that don’t personally affect you, that’s a common skill that happens to enable hate by default. Maybe if just a few more people switched over to the “spreading love and beauty” camp, that might be all it takes to flip the balance back toward the minority not deliberately ruining everything for the rest of us.