Slopes and Sam

02-05-05 by Sam

I just listened to "With Teeth".

Rather than reviewing the damn thing in a detailed and ultimately impotent attempt to sum up what can’t really be described with mere words, let me just say…it’s good. You know that feeling you get in your chest when you’re lying next to the one you truly love, in one of those perfect moments of true happiness? Well, take that feeling, concentrate it, put it in a syringe and inject it directly into your eyeball. Now it’s pumping through your whole body, shivering along your bloodstream and bubbling in your skull. Or, if this is too far beyond the realms of imagination for you, just go buy the album and listen to it. The music will slice into your brain like so much moist meatloaf.  Your brain, that is, not the album.

Oh, and Trent, if you get to see this, drop me a line. Say hi next time you’re passing through Melbourne, Australia. We could be bestest friends. All that shit. I’m not suggesting a relationship or anything. The age gap is a bit too big for me. And, unfortunately, I also suffer from something called heterosexuality. The Christians are all raving about it, apparently, and I’m always a little worried about anything that religious types get behind.

I'm quite pleased with the way this strip turned out.  I'm pretty keen on sticking to the three cell format, but NIN warranted a double-sized one.  I'm also happy with the artwork here.  I'm not trying to say that it's "good", just that there's "fewer mistakes and grotesque body parts".  I like T.S.T. too, and I'm already planning to use it for another interview, albeit with a far less credible celebrity than Trent, in the near future.  Probably in the next two or three weeks.  Watch out for it.

And Slopes will be back in the next strip.  I promise.

-Sam

03-05-05 by Sam

Earlier, I was sent a picture, and I thought I’d share it with you. There’s a story behind it, and it goes as follows.

In the middle of last year, I got to be a nanny in America. Yes, laugh all you like, but it was good money, and it then allowed me to travel through Europe. Now, the kids I was nannying were a smart pair. A little too smart, if you ask me. And their senses of humour were a little too far developed. I mean, when you get a twelve year old cracking pedophile jokes at you, it’s a little scary. Especially when they’re good ones.

Now, when James and I lived together, I got used to being groped. James is a fairly touchy-feely person. That’s not to say he’s gay. I’ll leave that for him to decide. But being groped by Pat, the twelve year old, is a feeling of true disturbtion. That may be a made up word, but I feel that here I have used it aptly.

It might be wise to add here that Pat never went “below the belt”. He kept his groping restricted to the chest area. James, on the other hand, is not at all daunted by the belt-line. No, he’s a regular fucking Magellan, and any guy who’s made the mistake of passing him in a corridor can attest to that.

I spent most of my time in the US pasting posters of Pat that read “Warning: Sexual Predator” on trees and telephone poles. However, even this didn’t seem to work, because he still sends me this shit:

And I think that all of us who aren't, you know, into little kids can agree that this isn't the most flattering light to be portrayed in.  I especially like my crazy eye and determined, bloody smile.  I'd like to point out, though, that Pat is the one with the look of smug self-satisfaction on his face.  In fact, looking closely, I think that my mouth is actually set in a rictus of terror.  And the blood is probably from where Pat knocked me out with an aluminum bat.

I told you, he's dangerous.  I wasn't putting up those posters on a lark.

I’d just like to say, Pat may have whipped this up on Paint, but he’s actually a far better artist than I will ever be, and possibly has a future in real comics.