A Farewell to Arse
Well, I’m packing it in. It’s been a year of columnizin’ here at Comixpedia, and while in some ways there are more things to be said, basically it was a long year of saying the same thing over and over again.
And my name’s not Dalton Wemble. Like that wasn’t obvious.
Putting the ‘crap’ in narcicrapssism
Pull your shirt up.
I don’t care if you’re at work. Go for it. If you’re wearing a button-up shirt, just undo the bottom couple of buttons and pull ‘er open a bit. C’mon. I can wait.
(singing tira lira lura, tira lira ly, tira lira lura, it’s an Irish lullaby…)
Writing an article in a column whose stated goal is to be critical of webcomics, in a month when the theme is "politics," is a tricky beast indeed.
It is, arguably, impossible to do without seeming horribly biased.
Because conservatives just aren’t funny. Or interesting. At all.
It’s true. Continue Reading
New Blood and the Pull of the Undertow
The Internet, as we all know, moves fast. Real fast. And as an old fogey, it still astounds me how fast things can evolve around here. In the old days, it would take a fad a few years to develop, a year or two to stick around, and a year to hit the dollar stores. Hell, can anyone else remember "Miami Mice?" Or when disheveled ducks were all the rage?
Save The Elves!!!
The only thing worse than being embarrassed – that squirmy, wormy, queasy embarrassment, like when your pants rip open during an assembly, or when you fall off your bike in front of that girl (or guy) you really like in Grade Three – the only thing worse than that sort of embarrassment is when you don’t feel it for yourself, but for somebody else.
The Geeks Shall Inherit What They’re Worth?
So, geek comics.
First of all, anyone who willingly adopts a name stolen from a sub-breed of circus freak that specialized in biting the heads of live poultry should be shot.
That being said, it’s about time those alcoholic half-mad savages in the filth-encrusted cages of the carnie sideshow had someone to look down on, and thank you, webcartoonists, for fitting the bill.
Naked Field Parties and You
When I was a chipper young lad of 12 or 13, there was (as there was every year) an election for Student Council at my beloved Poughkeepsie High. One wag, running for some minor position like Sock Hop Coordinator or Master of the Punchbowl or something, applied all the intellect and graphic design skills that one could expect a 15-year-old who spent most of his time blasted at "field parties" to muster.
Death of the Funny What?
Now if I were going to be all knee-jerk about this, I’d be all about "out with the old, in with the new, the traditional comics page was stale and it’s time to bring in some fresh blood, viva the internet, viva webcomics, viva endless chatter about the newest video card from Alpha Omega Corp and people getting off on their bloody brilliance by yammering endless about whether or not Green or Blue dragons spit acid in AD&D first edition."
But Jeebus Godot, let’s take a look at what’s replacing what, here.
Hey there, seniorita, that’s very astute
Why don’t we get together and call ourselves an institute.
Well, I think that’s sort of how it goes, anyway. I can’t really remember. But what I do remember is that later in that same song – Paul Simon’s "You Can Call Me Al", by the way – somebody walks on down the alleyway with a roly-poly little bat-faced girl.
"So what," you ask, mouth agape and eyes quickly glazing over in the benighted absence of some sort of fast-moving things you can zap with your BFG?
Gaming Comics: Child’s Play!
The scuttlebutt is, last month there was quite a tizzy in these august pages over a few reviews of some sub-simian nerdlaff generators called "Gaming Comics." I, sequestered in the Cave of Bitterness, came in rather late – after the Big Crash – but was told by the breathless wonders that inhabit this site that some not-entirely-positive reviews of the not-remotely-good comics Cornhole-Arrgh-Delight and Litigious Gamerz drew thousands of ireful comments from their so-called "fan community."