God, I watched the US presidential debates while I was lettering this. What a tirefire. It was two-minutes of an interrupting word-salad followed by two minutes of a person making sense.
I don’t like what Clinton did to Bernie’s campaign, and I don’t respect those tactics at all, but she’s got to win this election. She has to. Trump has demonstrated tonight that he’s barely capable of understanding a question, let alone answering one and acting upon it with policy.
Anyone who is willing to risk letting that man-child become president has been blinded by hate.
We went through quite a few different panels for the end of this comic, and (as it happens) the end of chapter three, and I think they flesh out the world in a pretty fun way. Also, we don’t share many sketches and I think it’s probably time to change that.
Zach got pulled over yesterday. In getting pulled over, it was revealed that his license is long, long expired. This is a problem he’s tried to fix, but cannot, because his birth certificate and his social security card disagree about the spelling of the word “Zachary.” Bureaucracy does not motivate Zach the way massive tickets do, however, so in order to get some of the cost of this snafu waived, he’s scrambling around the state (with me playing chauffeur) trying desperately to get his paperwork into such a state that the DMV will say, “Yes, you are Zach, a real person who exists, please take the driving exam now.”
We have hit an infinite feedback loop. One cannot get a social security card without a photo ID.
One cannot get a photo ID without a social security card.
The tiny, tiny fees associated with this mess definitely add up, too, because copies of official records, as it turns out, are not free. It’s very, very easy for me to imagine someone with this problem who WASN’T in the military or who HADN’T graduated college having absolutely no recourse for proving they are themselves to the state government of Kansas. This shit can stop someone from getting a job very, very easily.
It’s nothing short of the systemic oppression of the poor.
Anyway, hey, here’s the second half of a dream sequence.
I’m almost completely moved into the new apartment, with just cleaning on one end and unpacking on the other to do. Soon, I’ll have more free time to dedicate toward the comic, though I’m not just yet sure what that means.
In the meantime, hey, have some weird shit. We made it, just for you.