Pictured: The serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know who should go fuck themselves.
In case you missed it, Bands I Useta Like (the comic strip, not the site you are currently reading) is over. I am forced to accept that a printed periodical outlet for the strip I have drawn for the past twenty-three years no longer exists. This is the theme of the 2020’s; forced acceptance and submission. Historically, I do well with neither.
So, in the spirit of the current times, I am accepting my own flaws and shortcomings as personal advantages, and forcing them on the rest of society and the world. As a pipe-tooting sailor once said, I am what I am.
A final performance, product, or accomplishment before someone or some-thing stops creating work or products, as due to death, retirement, closure etc. From the ancient belief that swans issue a beautiful song-like sound just before they die.
Where do I even start with Ren & Stimpy? How do I handle the Faustian tale of its fallen creator, John Kricfalusi, without getting overly personal and acrimonious?
The mid-1980’s Twilight Zone was actually really good. It had an appropriately creepy vibe right from the start, aided greatly by the reinterpretation of the classic theme music, courtesy of Merl Saunders and the Grateful Dead.
Mark my words. As soon as it becomes feasible, the father will be erased from the family unit forever. The word and the concept will be abolished and nullified. You can bet your life savings on it happening in the next five years.
There’s an itch that rap music scratches that no other kind of music does. For this reason, I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with the genre. But the fact remains; I always come back to it. Once I realized I was listening to it alone, when there was no one around to impress, I figured I enjoyed the form enough to jabber about it sincerely.
I would like to take this opportunity to shoulder a bit of the blame hurled around in the current Battle of the Generations. Whatever my assigned generational designation might be (“X”), I know for certain one egregious sin that we all committed willfully, en masse.
Maybe someday, in some perfect future utopia where I am long dead, the vaunted generation known as “millennials” will finally experience self-awareness. Maybe they will finally uncover the reason why they are so vehemently despised by literally everyone who came before them.
It just dawned on me that I fucked up and left the writing off the CD I’m holding in the final panel. I’m literally holding a square. It could be a bathroom tile for all we know. FUCK!!!
