The following is an open letter to Facebook, Amazon, Google, and Spotify, from Matty Boy Anderson. Mr. Anderson is a 28-year veteran of newspaper comics, and has self-published his own comic books for equally as long. He has created Internet content for 20 years, and authored three websites. In 2008, after three years of production, he released a homemade movie that won Best Animated Feature at the Atlanta Underground Film Festival.
At present there is no Wikipedia page for Orangy, so I will speak only for myself and quote the rest.
Orangy – DIDNT CAR/Breakbit Music BKBT0093/MP3, 320kbps/2010, USA
I first heard Chicago artist Orangy’s music in a Million Dollar Extreme sketch called “Ideas Man”, but I didn’t know who it was until much later. As I said in the Million Dollar Extreme review, their videos often intrigued you with their musical selections. Continue reading →
The hieroglyph depicted in the “punch panel” of this strip represents a circular struggle many of us are grappling with right now. We want to knock it off with the political shit, but we also want a valid excuse for indulging in our baser urges.
When you’re polishing the brass railings of the HMS Titanic, it’s important to remember one thing; do it with style. Otherwise, why bother? The more you polish, the better you get. So what if the ship hits the iceberg and sinks?
Since 1998, largely to keep myself out of a rut, I’ve changed the heading of the Bands I Useta Like strip every few years. In the very beginning (when it was self-published), it looked like this:
A stalker once told me, as though it validated his abhorrent behavior, “You can pick your nose, and you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your friends’ friends.” Admittedly, that’s partly true.
I mean, you’re welcome to pick your nose, if you’d like to be ostracized from society and make everyone sick at the same time. You can pick your friends, provided they’re in the same socio-economic class as you are, and they don’t consort with a better version of your identity. And you can’t pick your friends’ friends, who, for all you know, could be royalty, or morally repugnant wasted orgasms.
If you create art and/or entertainment, you don’t get to pick and choose who likes it.
Comedy stinks right now because you forced it to stink. You vilified every experience in life that makes a great comedian. You made the safe, sponsored version of laughter the norm. You’re so afraid to really laugh in front of other people, that you turned comedy from an anti-establishment weapon into a cottony security blanket.
Comedy stinks right now because of you. Because you’re afraid of your true feelings.
You probably don’t even know who this is.
Let’s take, as an example, one of these pusillanimous women that the media holds up as Queens of Comedy. You know the ones, I don’t have to name them. They’re all over glossy magazine covers at the checkout aisles, making “zany” faces to remind you they’re funny.