Slopes and Sam

12-06-05 by Sam

The last comic is undoubtedly my personal favourite.  It’s pleasing to the eye, and it gives me the school-girl giggles every time I read it.  That’s not to say that I laugh at my own jokes – Slopes wrote it, and it’s why I love him, Jungle Fever style.  Rice-paddy Fever.  Whatever.

So what does that prove?  Well, that the masses have no taste.  That I’m right, and you’re wrong.  I already knew this, but did you?  No.  You were wrong about that too.

Onto something that I was wrong about.  I made a vague promise-like statement that God and Gabriel would become recurring characters.  They turned out to be like the hot girl who just gets drunk a bit too much: easy.  And I know, if I had any integrity at all, I wouldn’t take the low road.  I’d write some sort of esoteric comic that everybody said was excellent, and nobody understood.

But no, it’s cheap shots and shock value for me. All the way. You’ll laugh now, and hate me later, the way it’s supposed to be.

What is good about this heavenly duo, though, is that they’ve got a very short half-life. I can feel it radiating off them right now. Pretty soon I’ll be so sick of them, I’ll swear of religion for life. Then I’ll be forced to use my imagination to produce this comic.

Here’s hoping, anyway.

Now and then, Rage makes me remember why I love music so very much (I'm talking about the Australian TV show, although the statement holds true for the band).  Tonight it also managed to remind me why this aural commodity should never fall into the hands of "bands" like EMF.  And I'd always assumed I didn't have any repressed memories of childhood torment.

And yes, I'm still bereft of my precious contacts.

-Sam