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Folks, you wouldn’t believe the sort of real-world demands that are being put on my time. To give you a sense of what I do for money until the ad sales pick up: Yesterday I spent the whole day writing a script for a “Webcast” that will be used by a major (well, not that major) printer company to train their sales staff about the features of their new printer (or, I’m sorry, multi-function product, ’cause it faxes and copies and scans and slices and dices too, don’t you know). So you can see why I was a little burned out so far this week. A Monday-through-Wednesday wrap-up post is coming soon, though. Keep hope alive!

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The Phantom, 6/26/05

I direct your attentions to panels one and two of the bottom row: At last! A faux-deep ethnic sidekick is called on his pidgin native-wisdom bullcrap! You’re next, Yoda! You hear me, you little green dimestore Buddhist con artist?

Folks, you ought to count yourself lucky that you weren’t here and I wasn’t posting during my lovely fianceé’s absence. It was one part Rita-style darkened-room self-pity and one part Bandar medicine-style inability to concentrate or remember things. The future Mrs. C. is back now, and I’m back from the Bad Place, but I’m not going to even try to cover the drama of the end of last week in the comics. However, unlike the shameful incident a few weeks ago when I purged some messages unread and earned your everlasting enmity, I did read your comments this time around, and so did Amber, and as proof I offer a transcript of a conversation we just had:

A: They’re talking about us. We’re famous!
J: Um, technically, honey, I’m famous.
A: Hey, I was described as a “cutie.” You were simply “bearded.”

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Apartment 3-G, 6/22/05

Waaahh! The Future Mrs. C. is out of town for work for a few days and I’m lonely! None of the comics today are particularly inspiring! Margo put a shirt on! Waaaaaahhhhhh!

My life: a never-ending series of trials.

“You told him he’s a weirdo?” should definitely be a part of any complete list of classic Margo-isms, though. Also: Margo’s hair was already up yesterday, so I wonder what fiddling she’s doing in panel one. Presumably she’s ratcheting up her bun so tightly that nothing, not even fun, can escape.