It has been slow going at work. It makes for a boring comic, well because I’m just typing most of the time. That and talking about typing.
When it gets really crazy at work . . . whew . . . that’s when the funny happens. I’ve got to have something to play off of. Give me a crazy, naked crack-head or gang kid
Ah, well. Enjoy.
This strip is arriving a bit early. That is because I am a busy man, with many obligations. It is also a gift to you. You will have that many more days to gloat to your friends that you received the newest YSL and they will have to wait, like suckers. Poor saps.
This comic is kind of a continuation of last week’s musings about getting older. Rather than lamenting the lack of coolness, this laments my ongoing lack of a jetpack and ray gun, a loss I mourn for everyday. I have a badge and handcuffs, but they are a poor substitute. The tears never stop, nor will they ever. It’s something I’ve come to terms with. But it doesn’t make it fair, because it isn’t fair. But its life. Sucky life.
Take care, and if you area lucky enough to have a jet pack and/or space helmet of some variety . . . I hate you. Deeply.
-Lee
