I’m not a particularly superstitious spork, but clearly a curse is afoot.

It started in mid-April when The Snottening rampaged through our household. As the sole bastion of health during that incursion, I made sure the cold medications stayed in good supply and the Kleenex-to-trash conveyor belts were oiled up. Squeaky belts are not conducive to sleep when the coughing, sneezing, wheezing, and other assorted biological sounds that accompany a Snottening outbreak are already on the clock.

Oh, to return to those halcyon days…

The first week in May, with perfect Spring weather growing our meadow by at least a foot daily, the mower decided that forward was not a direction it was willing to travel. The last repair place left it in worse shape than when it entered, but it was the only place I could find at the time. You’d think “riding lawnmower repair” would be a thing, but apparently it’s some kind of Illuminati underground cabal working silently in the background. They probably have to dodge assassins in the employ of Big Lawn Care.

Alas, it turned out not to matter. The very next morning I was hit square in the lungs with The Snottening, v2. There are only so many bodily orifices that can produce mucus, but I assure you they were all clogged and thus I was sweating the stuff. By the time it got to my eyes, and no, I’m not making that up, the doctor believed that it might not be viral in nature.

Fast forward four blissful anitbiotic-swallowing days and I’m somehow feeling alive once again. We’re not sure how tall the lawn is, it’s certainly higher than the roof, but we’re now in the process of dowsing for a repair person whose technique involves tools rather than checking fluid levels and alternating bouts of swearing and prayer.

Alas, The Churchians was scheduled to begin on June 4. Not gonna happen. Too many heart attacks, illnesses, and broken machinery got in the way. The new date is July 8. We could probably start on the 1st or 4th, but nobody will be around that weekend. We’ll continue to post as we can. If we resort to an exorcist or a safari expedition to clear a path to the street, we’ll post pictures.

Otherwise, Codex has promised to post the Mother’s Day card Glyph drew for her, which caused some much-needed laughter yesterday afternoon. Look for it sometime later this week.

–> Quizzer

It’s Monday, and Codex is out of town. She didn’t leave us with nothing, however. We have an extensive collection of hooch drawings!

Here we see an old-timey hooch bottle. The “XXX” denotes booze, not a rating for some kind of adult entertainment. Although liquor is only for adults. If you believe guns should be removed from society, however, then you believe alcohol is for children, too. It simply follows the gun-grabbing logical process, since we can’t criticize children who are trying to nuke the 2nd Amendment but nevertheless vote. And drink, apparently. And in my state, smoke the same exotic herbs those mythical Canadians do, along with the children in the state legislature.

I gave up passive-aggressiveness for Lent. It didn’t stick since I’m not Catholic.

Here we see several bottles of shroomshine with a simple Half-Moon logo. The armed mushrooms are capable of and prepared to not only pop the corks, but enjoy their contents. Note the rightmost figure, arguing passionately for his favorite brand.

I mean, I imagine at least. I’m only the writer, so what do I know?

Notice the little rust-colored guy in back. Amused. Happy. Like the grasshopper in that story about survival and living with the consequences of your actions. He doesn’t believe in arms. He thinks everyone else should shoulder the responsibility of protecting him, and society. Perhaps he’s been sampling the drink on the side, or maybe he is just that foolish. (He might also be 6. — Codex)

They’re mushrooms. We’ll find out in The Churchians. First comic arrives on June 4. Stay tuned for more etchings!

–> Quizzer