Codex here. We did not have a Memorial Day comic this year because I had nothing to draw. I still do not.
Whot he said.
We have to do better. God help us.
Paste-eating Polis, Colorado’s tin-pot dictator, has declared March 20 to be a Meat Free day. A yuuuuge thank-you to one of the Huns* for giving us our new theme song.
Join the beastitarian moment today: We have bacon!
*credited if you don’t mind being associated with this bunch of weirdos. No shade or poor drainage if not.
This week’s prompts (since I decided to skip “inspiration”. I had to draw Lennon hair. Ugh.) are: woof, cheese, juniper, fairy lumberjack, tiny houses, mercurial, snap dragon, and owl bits.
This is an old sketch I wanted to try to use with a technique I’ve been trying to transpose from real life drawing to virtual: Woof!
As before: updates will follow this week beneath the page break: Continue reading
What started as a bit of a freak snow event has turned much more sleety and dangerous. The forecast was for less than an inch of snow, but our street is at 3+ inches now and tree branches are breaking everywhere as ice builds up. I doubt our power will last the night.
No need for alarm, we’re well-stocked in coffee and ink, as usual.
Tomorrows comic might be delayed. Codex is drawing frantically. I’m handling dinner, and have the generator prepped. If you see “Rust: Raised” go up at the usual time, you should assume everything went well.
If not… well, don’t send the Donner Party our way. We’ll have enough to contend with!
–> Codex & Q
Hey all. Codex here.
Today’s post is a bit of a pickled watermelon. Quizzer thought he was immune to The Crud, which invaded the household this week. Since my back log of extra strips is shot, he said: “Don’t worry, Codex! I’ve got you covered.”
Hahahahahaha. Nobody escapes the Cycle of Snot. He did miss the exciting secondary infection Glyph succumbed to, though.
Today he came staggering downstairs, grabbed the bottle of Nyquil and took a couple of shots.
“Sickness, fatigue, nose honey, hubris, stupidity, skull-n-bones, and the imminent destruction of Seattle!” he spluttered. Then he went into a coughing fit and collapsed onto the couch. Before passing out into a haze of mucous and over-the-counter syrupy nostrums he muttered, “”The Economist 2015 is the key.” Continue reading