When we started this arc of epic story-telling, we planned out all the pieces of it and then wrote them right there on the spot. This is noteworthy because it is quite contradictory to our usual method, which is to make a fart joke, draw a funny face, then slap together a couple of lines of dialouge around it.
Oh, wait… that’s exactly what we did here…
But my point is, that since we got a little ahead in the production of these 4-panel Shakespearean Tragedies, I’ve had some time on my hands to work out some sweet ideas for the next couple of months, and barring approval from the board, I’d say they are taking things to the next level of angry, drunken, absurdity.
In other news, I’ve been deeply embroiled in one of my least favourite tasks: packing. I’m moving on the weekend, and am once again forced to boil almost three decades worth of stuff into a few square moving crates. I know I’m a pack-rat, but I honestly don’t know where the hell most of this stuff came from. I’m finding issues of magazines I didn’t even know existed, let alone cost me $5.95 of my hard-earned cash (all right, it wasn’t that hard-earned… more like hard handed to me).
I’ve also come across a slew of dishes I didn’t know I owned. Electric fry pans, beer mugs, napkins, all this stuff has been in my cupboards and I had no idea. I think that since I didn’t know it was there, I shouldn’t be responsible for moving it. There’s a saying where I come from: “That’s someone else’s problem.” OK, I just kinda made that up, but you get the drift.
For you football fans out there, let me say that if Tom Brady covered the ball in honey, and lobbed it underhand to a pack of school children on expired valium, he might find a better receiver. The Patriots/Broncos game Sunday night was just awful. If both Buffalo hadn’t lost earlier in the day, I would be truly upset, but much like 2 penalties in the NFL, those two things offset each other (apparently).
Keeping it as real as a comic strip will allow,
M. o’M.
