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Shoe, 8/11/12

The empty benches behind Roz actually speak rather well of the bird-people of Shoe-world. Rather than coming into open court to gawk at the spectacle of a poor delusional woman attempting to seek legal relief from her own biology, they have stayed away to give her some small amount of privacy and, to the extent possible, dignity.

Apartment 3-G, 8/11/12

Wow, this guy has answer to everything, doesn’t he? “Oh, is my main reference’s number not on my resume? Just take a look at … this business card! Oh, you don’t think someone from L.A. would have heard of your tiny middlebrow art gallery? Maybe that’s because I’m … not from L.A. at all, but from New York City — the very place where your art gallery is located!” Jesus, dude, just tell her you Googled her after you saw the job ad on Craigslist.

Beetle Bailey, 8/11/12

Sarge is not what you’d call an intellectual, so it makes sense that he looks so distressed at suddenly finding himself the subject of and a participant in an experimental work of recursive meta-fiction.

Pluggers, 8/11/12

Pluggers would rather spend their declining years staring in absolute silence at a tired cultural relic of their bygone youth than interact with their families. Also, they can’t be bothered to learn how to program a DVR.

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Beetle Bailey, 8/4/12

I was going to go into this whole thing about how “Halftrack Dysfunctional Marriage Saturdays” are always the most depressing day in the comics all week, and that Mrs. Halftrack is doing a great job of gleefully pushing her husband further down his little shame spiral rather than trying to free him from it, but then I noticed that the General’s trademark neck-wattle is visible from the side and I got distracted.

Spider-Man, 8/4/12

Sorry, everybody, we’re going to have to start speaking some other language now! English hit its pinnacle with “Never suspected I booby-trapped my clown nose!” and it’s all going to be pretty much downhill from here, so let’s get out while the getting’s good.

Garfield, 8/4/12

AHH AHHH AHHH GARFIELD TURNED JON INTO A HEAD OF CABBAGE WITH FELINE DEMON MAGIC AHHHHHH

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Last week for pre-orders of my novel, everybody! Now that I’ve reached my Kickstarter goal, the thing will be produced, so you can always hold out for the finished product. But Kickstarter supporters will be the only ones who can get the hardback edition, or an e-book version sold outside of the DRM’d major distributors. So if those thing are of interest to you, check out the Kickstarter project page!

Slylock Fox, 7/23/12

You know, if I had a time machine, I’d probably do a lot of prep research before voyaging into the past, getting down all the details I could to make sure I go to just the right time and see the most awesome and interesting things … at least, for my first few trips. After that I imagine I’d get kind of sloppy, as one tends to do when things become old hat. Instead of going down to the library and spending hours figuring out the exact place and time where I could, say, catch Napoleon alone to have a few moment’s intimate conversation with him, I’d just hit Wikipedia real fast to make sure I have the date right and head off into history. I mean, whatever, everyone today just knows the Wright Brothers as “the Wright Brothers” and I just want to go sit out on the dunes with a cooler full of beer and watch them fly that crazy plane. I don’t really give a shit which one was at the controls, you know? It’s not like I’m going to get close enough to talk to them and, oh, I don’t know, alter the course of history and disrupt the timeline, Slylock.

Meanwhile, speaking of disruptions, why exactly is Slylock hanging out on the lawn of Count Weirdly’s mountaintop castle-lair with a bunch of kids and some tie-wearing duck? Were they planning on sneaking through Weirdly’s labs while the Count was away, forgetting that time travelers can always just return to the present moments after they left? Clearly Slylock has been caught off guard and decided to pull this “Loser can’t tell his Wright brothers apart” dick move to distract from his own misconduct.

Beetle Bailey, 7/22/12

“Puritanical” is not a word I usually associate with Private Bailey, but here he is, worrying about the coarsening effects of the Internet on our language, right as he’s getting punched in the throat.