It was nothing like that, penis breath!
For some time now, and I don’t know what it is, I’ve been feeling all “fuck comic books”.

It might stem from getting an offer to do a six page story for an upcoming zine, finishing the six pager then losing one of the pages in a drunken rampage. I know that’s partially responsible for my current bad attitude, and added greatly to my comic burnout, but it’s not the whole of it.

And before anyone says something stupid like “comic books and booze don’t mix”, let me tell you they do. Booze mixes with everything. Ever heard of a mixed drink, fuck face?

Who knows maybe my lingering malaise is from the horrible head wound I suffered at the Stiff Little Fingers show a couple weeks back. It’s not. I just wanted to show you this rad photo of my brains. Thanks to Sarah ‘mooney moon moonster’ Mooney for taking this picture of the inside of my head.



Whatever it was, and this is my point, it seems to be gone now. I’ve been offered a chance to draw an awesome story called Red Cordial, I’m gonna finish that one page (again! Fuck you James!) for that six pager, and maybe just maybe finish issue 3 of FFFA.

Alright so I didn’t really have a point, I just felt like writing something.