Despite the (nearly buried) plot arch of our necromancer trying to bring out the destuction of the kingdom through the extraction and distillation of a rather unhealthy amount of Phineas T. Bagmeat's various bodily fluids, if I keep blogging about malady and plague you folks are going to think I'm coming down with a bad case of hypochondria.Nevertheless, after struggling to shake off the nasty gastro my sweet daughter infected me since last Friday, I'm really glad to be up and about again and complaining about the world like my usual self (and not nearly as whiningly and pathetically, my wife would like me to add at this point).
Personnally I prefer to think that I had a bit of punk in me but as it was pointed out that I really have nothing to complain about and my soapbox is this nice, solid teak thing with brass fixings and brightly stenciled letters that I keep lovingly sealed in lucite behind red velvet curtains for special occasions.... yeah well my credibility's all shot for the punk angle at this point, even if I do point out that my favorite flavour of beer is "free" and I own a leather jacket with a Crass symbol on it (yes, it's hers too... sigh).
Right, well since today's entry appears to be about lack of credibility, have you noticed that this is something from which a number of people in the strip suffer? It must either be me transposing onto my creations or an unwitting realization that competence isn't particularly funny. Or at least, if you have competence, you need some stark and laughably awful contrast right next to it so that there's something funny after all.
It's a bit like waving the right hand while the left hand does something else.
Do you suppose that's why countries have presidents and prime ministers?
I'll leave you on that thoughtful note today. Enjoy the strip and I'll try to keep my stomach in line for Monday...
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