Alright before you say anything, this ain’t one of my favorites. It actually represents a lot of painful things for me personally. So just know that going in.
This is one of the earliest strips and frankly I was too hard on ol’ Cannibal Corpse. I wrote the first strips while living in rural South Carolina. I’m still friends with the dude in the first panel but at the time I didn’t know where any of the old gang were. I was crabby and malnourished in general because I didn’t figure out a proper diet until around four years ago.
OMG LOOK! I’M DRINKING OUT OF A SOLO CUP AT A HIGH SCHOOL KEG PARTY AND VOMITING! OMFG! FIRST PANEL! DON’T TELL THE F.B.I.! THEY MIGHT START CRYING ABOUT IT!
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.
I know you’re out there; you’re sick and tired of political correctness stinking up your comics. Like, so sick and tired that you’re not even reading this. You’re off doing something else because you’re fed up with the never-ending guilt-trip perpetuated by the mainstream media. But I know you’re out there.
And if you were reading this, you’d know one thing.
When a band shows us the top of the mountain, we treat them the harshest. Every time we see them, we want them to take us to the top of the mountain one more time. If they can’t or won’t do it again, out come the knives.
In case you haven’t been steeped in Internet culture for most of your life, let me explain. Cast your mind back to the year 2004 B.F. (Before Facebook). A leap year.
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