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2001

~
It's only rock & roll
but I like it

~

 

 
notes from the resistance

January 1, 2001

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We have run about the hood
And watched the cars go by;
We've wander'd in our worn out Pumas,
Since days of auld lang syne.
We have walked 'neath sneakers flung
High on telephone lines,
We've stomped around our stomping grounds
Since days of auld lang syne.
So here's a hand, my dear friend,
And give a hand o' thine;
We'll take a dime bag o' kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.
-T.


~
Thus Spake
Zarathustra

~
1-8-01
Resolutions for 2001:
· Finish my memoirs, TI: The Man, The Myth, The Mojo.
· Wrestle an alligator.
· Get in touch with the Jedi within.
· Use my powers for good.
· Kick ass.
· Rock.
· Continue to enchant and delight the ladies with my awesome pimp powers.
· Work on that humility thing.
· Let the dogs out again.
· Remember that wherever you go, shit happens.
· Give props where props is due.
· Say it like it is and go with the flow.
All right. Let's do this thing.
-T.



~
Let them eat cake
~
Jan. 15, 2001
I have a dream that this nation will lay down that boogie and play that funky music till we die. So let freedom ring from the Hollywood sign in Tinseltown. Let freedom ring from the Sears Tower in the Windy City. Let freedom ring from Lady Liberty, that fine piece of ass up in Gotham. Let freedom ring from the neon desert of Sin City. Let freedom ring from the French Quarter in the Big Easy. When we let freedom ring from every ghetto and every slum, every 'burb and every 'hood, we will be able to speed up that day when all children of the atom, mutants and non-mutants, the old school and the new wave, SuperFriends and the Power Puff Girls, will join hands and sing in the words of that James Brown classic: "He ain't no drag--Papa's got a brand new bag! Ungh! Good God!"
-T.

 

~
We could be heroes
~
22/Jan/2001
Bubba has left the building: Sex, drugs, and rock & roll is officially out of the White House. Gone are the days of wine and doobies, when a boy named Bill ruled the Beltway, when his "wife" frantically shredded documents in the next room while a chunky intern did unspeakable things with the aforementioned doobie. Gone are the Aww-Shucks-Golly-Gee-Whiz speechifying, the late night Oval Office booty calls, and all the fast food take-out you can eat. Ah, we sure had fun, didn't we? In fact, the nation was so determined to keep the party going it failed to turn up a new leader--until the Men in Black Robes settled it behind closed doors. So now we move on. Good-bye Slick Willy; Hello Clueless George.
-T.

 

~
You want
some of this?

~
1/29/01
Now for the fake news: Imagine! Your business advertised right here in this very column, which boasts a readership well into double digits! No jive, baby. We command the choicest consumer demographics cuz we are phat and fly and hip like that. For real! So act now! We'll get you hooked up on our product placement program, as I dig in to a delicious McRib® sandwich, which is back for a limited time, and wash it down with the refreshing taste of Royal Crown® cola. Whoops, spilled some on my Adidas® sports jersey! (See how that works?) Call now! Operators are standing by!
-T.

 

~
Say hello to my
little friend

~
February 4, 2001
Like Steven Seagal, I'm a spiritual leader renowned the world over, beloved by the masses far and wide. Accordingly, seekers of truth come to me and ask the Big Questions. "What is the meaning of life?" "How should one live?" "Briefs or boxers?" And my answer is always the same. {insert Indian sitar music} "You must follow your own path, young Padawan, like in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. Remember those? Them's good readin'. One book, multiple plot options. Pure genius. I used to read ahead and then select the best storyline. Hee hee. So anyway, that's the meaning of life. Now go and be as one." {gong sounds, birds chirping}
-T.

 

~
Now for something
completely different

~
Two Eleven Zero One
In the spirit of Black History Month and for the cause of ethnic diversity, we here at Sinfest have a few suggestions:
1) Jesse. New NBC sitcom starring the Reverend Jesse Jackson and his wild and crazy escapades as a swinging bachelor! Keep hope alive, baby!
2) Shakespeare on Telemundo. Sample monologue: "To be or not to be, holmes. That eez the ques-chun, comprende? Word."
3) Harry Potter and the Pips. Latest from the best-selling series. This time Harry is joined by a group of soulful backup singers and together they do battle with the evil Kenny G.
4) Magic Eye Hentai Posters. Hang them at work and watch the merriment ensue!
-T.

 

~
Parental Advisory:
Explicit Lyrics

~
2.18.2001
It's awards show season and that means the biggest names in fashion will be out in full force, exhorting the stars to don their apparel. I myself have already received complimentary gift baskets from Tommy Hillbilly, Fruit of the Loom, and Members Only. Plus, a top tier designer left this message on my machine: "Hey yo, wear my shit or I'll go 'nightclub' on your ass. Puffy out." It's all very exciting, as you can well imagine. Paparazzi's gonna go nuts when I step on to the red carpet fitted in my elegant ensemble with Members Only jacket, Le Tigre prep shirt, and nylon Quiksilver jams--suggestively unbuckled, revealing my Spider-Man UnderRoos. Oh, too sexy!
-T.



~
Riddle me this
~
February the 25th of 2001
Never thought I would get this big: Actually, I've given plenty thought to making it, getting over, blowing up, arriving. I've practiced acting all Hollywood, rehearsed my prima donna tantrums and trashed many a hotel room in preparation for fame. But stardom ain't all milk and cookies. Since the debut of Sinfest there's been an upsurge in anime lust, hardcore gangsta children's books, ninjas, complaints lodged against God, and angel hunting. One teenager reportedly stared at his Dragonball poster for 16 hours waiting for the image to change. Obviously the situation is serious. So please be advised that the antics in Sinfest are conducted by professionals in a controlled, fictional environment and no persons, animals, or angels were harmed in the making of this strip.
Resistance out.
-T.

 

~
Speak softly and
carry a big stick

~
March Four Two Thousand One
Every man has a right to be conceited until he is successful.
-Disraeli
When people say to me, "Tatsuya, you are the voice of our generation. You reflect the spirit of the times. By God, you may very well be the only hope for mankind," I say, "Thanks. But don't forget Carrot Top. He does fine work also. And Rerun from "What's Happening?" He's special." Seriously though, I'm totally down with being the voice of the spirit of the whatyoucallit, uh, the times and shit. I don't know what any of that means but it sounds pretty darn good. It'll bolster my resume and talk about your sure-fire pickup line! "Hey foxy lady, I'm a reflection of the times. Let's boogie."
-T.

 

~
No woman
No cry

~
03/11/01
Got Muse? The muse you choose shapes your art. A forest nymph, for example, would yield furry, fairy stuff. A drama queen lends herself to noir and histrionics. The damsel in distress elicits grand heroics. Then there's the princess, the vamp, the siren, the riot grrl, the madonna, the virgin, the waif, the free spirit, and many others besides, each affecting their own unique style. Me, I got a full-on superfreaky bad-to-the-bone muse to end all muses. Which is a mixed blessing, to be sure. The other day while she was inspiring me in the spirit world, she's all, "Oh yes! Yes! Ride me, Sparky!" Naturally I had to throw her ass out. How dare she call another cartoonist's name on my time.
-T.

 

~
Mama said
knock you out

~
March Eighteenth Two Thousand One
On self-expression: Finding one's voice is a life's work. So say what you mean and mean what you say. Many squander their voice by aping others and putting on airs, pretending to be someone they're not. Not me. Whether I'm ordering my storm troopers to ready my ship or meeting with city officials about the power crisis, I'm always myself. It doesn't matter if I'm at one of my U.N. hearings, attending my weekly desert rave, or vacationing on MIR space station, I am always the same person. And I'll tell you why--Cuz I take the task of being a role model very seriously. And what the youth of America needs is for someone to take a stand and say, Hey, I gotta be me!
-T.

~
Would you like
fries with that?

~
March 25th, 2001 A.D.
Webcomics has yet to arrive. The fledgling industry is crowded with players, but few real professionals. We don't even have our own annual awards show. It's that bad. Plus with the economy all out of wack, things are gonna suck for a while. I foresee a lot of webcartoonists camped on freeway offramps peddling fruit or holding up "Will draw for food" signs. Some have stocked up on emergency supplies of squee-gees and Windex, you know, for their fall back career. Whatever. The players will change and the scene will evolve and the professionals will survive.
-T.

 

~
It's gotta
be the shoes

~
April 1, 2001
Excerpt from the highly anticipated autobiography T.I.: The Man, The Myth, The Mojo:
I used to run with a tough crowd back in the day. One time we snagged a six-pack of O'Douls from 7-11 and boy, did we get hammered. I must've downed like a whole can all by myself. Tommy said he saw pink elephants and shit but I think he got that from watching cartoons. Marco kept giggling like a hyena and Antawn started hocking loogies, saying the alcohol gave it extra body and range. Yeah, we were total outlaws. Badasses. Even back then we knew we were destined for bigger and badder things. Like Zima.
-T.

 

~
Quiet in
the balcony

~
four/eight/one
Things that make you go Hmmm: While rocking out to 80s flashback radio it occurred to me that maybe some bona fide celebrities are among my readership. Imagine that. Like maybe the Thompson Twins are at their computer, you know, surfing the net, checking out webcomics. One of them would be like, "Hey, Thompson, this comic sucks." And the other guy would go, "Like totally. It sucks to the max." Or how about Arnold Schwarzennegger? Maybe after a round of protein drinks he fires up a stogie and goes online: "Ah hah hah hah. This is most amusing cah-tooon! I laugh very hard I do. If they make movie, I play Zlick! Hah hah."
-T.

 

~
One for the money,
two for the show

~
April Fifteenth, Two Thousand One
Let's do some FAQs:
When is the Sinfest book coming out?
I'll let you know.
Where do you get your ideas from?
From the midi-chlorians that live within me.
You think you're all that, don'tcha?
Please. Do not piss yourself with rage. I'm a peace-loving man.
That's it. Come on. Throw down, punk.
(interviewer charges at cartoonist, but discovers it's a hologram)
Wha-?
Ha ha. I'm not really there. I'm away on a diplomatic mission to China. Guards!
(battle droids enter, subdue interviewer with blasters)
Aaaaieeeeeee!!!!
Now if you'll excuse me, I must go restore peace and tranquility to the galaxy.
-T.

 

~
Think fast!
~
Year One:Month Four:Day Twenty-Two
Some artists worry about crossing over and losing their street cred. I totally understand this. So often I think to myself, "Will hitting the big time tarnish my cult hero image? Will turning filthy stinking rich and super-duper famous obscure my aura of streetness?" It keeps me up at night, I tell you. Sometimes I have to buzz my in-house chef to fix me a drink and a shrimp cocktail to calm my nerves. I really dig on that dipping sauce. Tangy yet sweet. The butter sauce ain't too shabby either, especially the way Wolfgang prepares it. Anyway, uh... What was I talkin' about? Oh, right. Street cred. Yes. I've got lots of that. I got street cred comin' outta my ears. I am street incarnate, boy. Just ask my masseuse.
-T.

 

~
All your babes are
belong to us

~
4/29/01
Sometimes I dream
That he is me
You've got to see that's how I dream to be
I dream I think
I dream I ink
Like Tat
If I could Be Like Tat
Like Tat
Oh, if I could Be Like Tat
Inspire awe
With what I draw
For just one day if I could
Be The Man
I dream I rock
I dream I rule
Like Tat
If I could be like Tat
I wanna be
Like Tat
Oh, if I could Be Like Tat.
(guitar solo, dancing girls grind in rhythm, pour Gatorade on each other)
-T.

 

~
All in favor say,
"Awwight"

~
May 6, 2001
A day in the life of Tatsuya Ishida:
8:00 AM. Wake up.
11:30 AM. Get out of bed.
11:45 AM. Continental breakfast, poolside. Read Wall Street Journal.
1:00 PM. Meet with military advisors. Plan strategic embargo on Mars.
2:30 PM. Notify Aaron Sorkin that the "cargo" has arrived.
2:35 PM. "Test" the cargo.
3:00 PM. Oprah.
4:30 PM. Video conference with Writer's Guild reps. Our line: Even though we don't employ writers, we want a piece of the pie.
5:30 PM. Arrange meeting with Heidi Fleiss's "people."
6:30 PM. Inform Robert Downy Jr. that the "package" has arrived.
6:35 PM. "Analyze" the package.
8:00 PM. Tae Bo.
9:15 PM. Scribble down tomorrow's strip idea, fax it to Sinfest Headquarters.
10:30 PM. Nightcap. Jacuzzi, Cognac, Doritos.
-T.

 
 

~
And the beat goes on
~

 
05-13-01

Some theories on Tatsuya Ishida's origins:
· He was bitten by a radioactive cartoonist and decided to fight crime when Uncle Benihana got killed.
· Top secret government experiment to create the ultimate philosopher that obviously went wrong.
· Millionaire playboy whose parents were gunned down by a gang of outlaw editors.
· The reincarnation of Van Gogh. "I'm back," he says. "And I'm gonna make bank."
· One of those Bladerunner clones.
· A bug in the Matrix construct, wreaking havoc on the system. Viva le Resistance!
· Madonna's latest persona.
· The last son of Nypton, shot into space as the planet exploded. Earth's yellow sun makes him get all jiggy wit it.
-T.


~
Excuse me while
I kiss the sky

~

Five/Twenty/One

All rise.
Put your right hand over your heart.
Ready.
Begin.
I pledge allegiance
To the 'Fest
From the East Side
Down to the West End
And to the Resistance
For which it rocks
One Love
Under Big Daddy
In
effable
With Liberty
And Phat Beats
For all y'all

-T.


~
Y'all come back
soon now, y'hear?

~

May 27, '01

The meaning of life, the reason for being, the purpose of all the cosmos is...

We interrupt this column with a message from the emergency broadcast system.
(Run test pattern)
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Had this been a real emergency, storm troopers would have busted into your house, declared Martial Law on your ass, and confiscated your hard drive. Then you would have been shuttled off to a secret underground base at Area 51 for immediate deprogramming, then get hooked up to the Matrix to serve as a power source until we solve the energy crisis. Thank you for your cooperation. We now return you to the column already in progress.


...and that, my friends, is the key to happiness.
-T.


~
We are, after all,
professionals

~

June 3, 2001

Sinfest-related headlines to look out for in the new millennium:
· Tatsuya launches new clothing line: "T. Diddy." Says he is no longer bitter about breaking up with J.Lo.
· Slick hairdo becomes hot fashion craze.
· Grand opening of Comic Strip Cafe. Celebrity cartoonists team up to start global franchise. Among items on display: Matt Groening's hair piece.
· Blaxploitation Funk Bible goes into eighth print run.
· Sinfest Theme Park opens. Lawsuits filed after the giant Hand of God malfunctions and flattens several patrons. Reached for comment, park officials say it was "ironic."
· Pooch and Percival dolls outsell all that Disney crap.
· Jerry Bruckheimer announces plans for live action Sinfest movie starring the Rock, Missy Elliot, and the guy who played Mini-Me.
-T.


~
Bring in da noise,
bring in da funk

~

Six/Ten/One

Not to brag or anything (y'all know I don't like to brag) but I know how to treat the ladies. I'll show you what I mean: A typical date with the Tatman ain't your average dinner-and-movie deal. Oh no. I go all out, baby. First I drive up in my tricked out '82 Datsun hatchback with my ABBA eight track blasting. I honk twice. When she comes out I immediately shower her with compliments: "Girl you smell nice. What is it, Lady Speedstick?" Then we hit a drive thru where I super-size our extra value meals without even asking her. This always impresses the honeys. It says, "Hey, for you I'm going first class." Then, after she pays the tab, we're headed for my favorite sports bar to catch the NBA finals. Woo hoo! Pass the beer nuts, wench!
-T.


~
Soylent Green
is people!

~

6-17-01

While reading over some old Resistance entries, I thought to myself, "Whoa. That is one cocky sumbitch. Who the bloody hell does he think he is?" Fortunately I, like Madonna, have the uncanny ability to reinvent myself. Like a chameleon, you might say. So I've decided to take a crack at this "modesty" thing you speak of. You know, mix it up a bit. But before I do, let's say good-bye to the Tatsuya of old. (Roll video montage of Tatsuya running through a cornfield in slow motion, sipping pina coladas with the Bush twins, clutching the Stanley Cup awash in champagne, while "Don't You Forget About Me" by Simple Minds plays in the background.) Standing ovation. Not a dry eye in the house. Truly a moment for the ages. Aw, damn. There I go again...
-T.


~
I have to praise
you like I should

~

Jun-24-01

The Way of The Hero Artist. As a force for good, I battle all sorts of villains and wrong-doers, like the Legion of Critics, Biter-Man, and Bizarro Tat. You know, clowns who talk trash, rip me off, even impersonate me. It's just one thing after another in this business. Life as a cartoonist, as you can see, is certainly fraught with peril. Hell, I may soon be dodging assassination attempts. Find my rabbit boiled and my thoroughbred decapitated. I could end up like Tupac: "Cartoonist slain in Las Vegas shooting. Jealous rivals seen fleeing the crime scene. News at 11." But these are the hazards of my profession, so it's--Woop! The Tat Signal! I'm needed in Gotham. Probably Imbecile Boy or StalkerChick is acting up again. To the Tatmobile!
-T.


~
Whisper words
of wisdom

~

July/1/2001

Give me a beat

Buddha and Christ
Long been iced
Loungin' afterhours at Club Zeitgeist

Confucius on the bongo
Krishna on the mic
Moses at the turntable spinnin' what he likes

(deejay scratches)

Serpent do a lip sync
Messing up the mix
This is how he got his ass 86ed

(sample chorus from Milli Vanilli's "Girl you know it's true")

So keep it on the upswing
Keep it goin' live
You can jam and slam and then STAGE DIVE!

Ungh! Too funky!

-T.


~
You will know
when you are calm

~

7.8.01

The test of a vocation is the love of the drudgery it involves.

-L.P.Smith

Artist Meets Muse. Artist Loses Muse. Artist Wins Muse Back. The creative process is often characterized as a romance, and in my case it's a torrid affair, a dangerous liaison, pure 100% unadulterated passion. Me and my Muse, we're the stuff of cheap romance novels. We're like a Red Shoe Diaries movie. Or, dare I say it, an episode of Baywatch. It's that good. Sure, sometimes it's like a French movie where I don't know what the hell's goin' on. Or a student film that makes no sense. Other times it's like a slasher flick, and I think the bitch is out to get me. But that's inspiration for ya. It ain't always smooth, but it's worth the ride.
-T.


~
We built this city
on rock'n'roll

~

July.15.2001

Y'all know by now that I'm a badass. And I'm known to do some pretty crazy badass things. I double dip. I leave the seat up. I wait in the express lane with more than the designated amount of items. And sometimes I even utter profanities. I'm like a wild man. Totally out of control. But as bad as I am, I'm also a force for good. It's one of my endearing contradictions as an explosively fascinating being. Dig it: I don't dog people. I don't slam their work. I don't smear their character. To me these are no-brainers. I may not be the sharpest spoon in the drawer but I know my right from wrong. Yeah, I got me some morals and shit. A badass with a heart of gold. And modest to boot.
-T.


~
Ain't no mountain
high enough

~

7/22/2001

The San Diego Comic Con was surreal. I actually met some of the alleged humans known as webcartoonists, and it went over okay. They didn't hurl bricks at me. They didn't tar and feather me. They didn't burn me in effigy. So it's all good and gravy. They even said things like "Nice to meet you" and "Let me shake your hand." How about that! I had to do a double take and make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Webcartoonists addressing me with respect and decency? When did this happen? Was there a memo I missed? Did they take their friendly pills? Maybe the water in San Diego is laced with ecstacy. Who knows?
-T.


~
She blinded me
with science

~

July 29, 2001

Life imitates art? I've always thought of art as life lite. It's almost like the real thing, but it tastes better and it's less filling. It's sort of a starter kit, a primer, the gateway drug to a bigger and badder reality. Take superhero comics, for instance. Like Jerry Seinfeld said, superheroes weren't just stories. They were options. I used to flip through comic books like they were catalogues on lifestyles. Do I want to be the wise-cracking do-gooder a la Spider-Man? Or the dark and brooding Batman-ish type? Very tough choice. Of course, Aquaman could communicate with fishes, which would sure come in handy during a tsunami. Speaking of which, they really oughtta bring back the old school Aquaman with the cheesy orange outfit. That ruled.
-T.


~
I knew a girl
from Nantucket

~

August 5, 2001

Less is More.Writing concisely is a difficult thing. There's always the temptation to get all fancy and use flowery language, throw down some SAT words, maybe even drop some Latin. You know, like Hark! My ancient proclivity for the pootius tangus doth stiffen my resolve, or some such shit like that. It's sorta like padding your resume, or stretching out your term paper with footnotes and word spacing. I remember I once took a one page essay and somehow, through the magic of margin adjustments, font sizing, indentation, and quadruple spacing, transformed it into a five pager. One of my finest moments as a collegian. I think the professor was impressed too. It looked like one of those seeing eye charts at the optometrist's office. A work of art, truly.
-T.


~
If I only
had a brain

~

8.12.01

Ah, the sting of rejection. The Futility Watch just notched another digit. Nothing like a form letter from a corporation to let you know where you rank in the Great Chain of Being. Somewhere below Ziggy. It makes a man philosophical, it does. It makes you ponder the Big Questions, like "What the hell?" and "Why? Oh Sweet Baby Jesus, WHY?" Which would presumably be the same reaction of people were they to chance upon Sinfest in family newspapers. One can imagine the horror of hapless citizens in Buttville, America as they open their Sunday funnies to find angels getting shot. There'd be rioting in the streets. Women and children would get whisked away in helicopters. And no one wants that. But hey, don't cry for me, Argentina. These are the dues-paying, character-building, dream-chasing days. You can't advance unless you dance.
-T.


~
Just the facts,
ma'am

~

8/19/2001

Star tripping: If a celebrity has a nervous breakdown in the woods and no one is around, would it still make headlines? Which came first, Hollywood or the rehab center? But hey, I'm not one to ridicule addiction. If Congress ever criminalized pez and power drinks I'd be robbing convenience stores to support my habit. Oh, I'm heavy into it, man. I'm like the cats in Trainspotting, only way more intense. No dead babies or anything like that, but I once had a nightmare where a shit load of pez dispensers attacked me. So I know what it's like. I'm so there. Now if you'll excuse me it's time for me to go and get myself exhausted.
-T.


~
Follow the
white rabbit

~

August 26, 2001

Another excerpt from the explosive best-seller T.I.: The Man, The Myth, The Mojo:
She left me. She said it was best for both of us, that we were still young and we should see other people, explore new worlds, experience life and grow as individuals. She said she loved me, that she'll always love me no matter what. And maybe, just maybe, if we were meant to be, we'll find our way back to each other again... I just stood there, bawling. Then it was time for recess, so I steeled myself and went out to play kickball. The guys needed me. Even though I'd just been dumped, I couldn't let them down. I was usually the last one picked, but still a vital contributor off the bench.
Ah, third grade... I remember it well.

-T.


~
I sing the
body electric

~

September 2, 2001

On genius: There's a variety of genius types. There's the mad scientist (Darwin, Einstein), the Renaissance man (Da Vinci, Goethe), the tortured soul (Van Gogh, Nietzsche), the hermit recluse (Thoreau, Salinger), the bohemian artiste (Shakespeare, Picasso), the rabble rouser (Socrates, Rand), the Wunderkind (Mozart, Lil' Bow Wow), and many other fine examples. Like superheroes, you can take your pick on what kind of legend you want to be. Me, I go for the Friendly Neighborhood Genius. The All American Clean Cut Genius Next Door. Yes. I'm very down to earth. All my handlers tell me so. One time, this guy in my entourage, I forget his name, he was like, "Tatsuya, sir, you are so down with the people." And I was all, "Shit yeah. I'm people who am people. Now go get me some nachos."
-T.


~
Don't feed them
after midnight

~

September 9, 2001

Simple is beautiful. The masters of any given field always go back to the basics, the fundamentals, the bare essentials of their craft. The fancy stuff is nice, but the real cool shit is minimalist. Drum and bass. Color and light. Meter and rhyme. And the works that grab us are usually built on the simplest of concepts--a love song, the hero myth, the afterworld. Of course, this is not recommended for all professions, like say, medicine. If I ever go under the knife, I don't want some quack trying to go "minimalist" on me. I'll be in pain cuz he won't give me any drugs, and he'll be like, "Hey, I'm retro." Or pilots. Those guys definitely shouldn't be getting too avant garde. "Attention. This is your pilot speaking. I thought I'd break down my craft to its bare essentials. Hold on, everybody."
-T.


 
 ~
Do not go gentle
into that good night

~
 
Sep.16.2001

We the People on Earth, We of every Nation, Race, and Religion-- Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, and heathen--in Order to form a more perfect World, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Vigil all across the Globe. We, therefore, solemnly publish and declare our Solidarity with All Peace-loving Citizens of The World. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
Peace,
-T.


~
One world
is enough

~

09/23/01

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I was lost but now I'm found,
Was blind but now I see.

(bass, kick drum)

'Twas Grace that taught my heart to fear
And Grace my fears removed.
How precious did that Grace appear
the hour I got my groove.

Oh yeah. Dig me now.

(choir harmonizes)

So many dangers, toils and snares
We've sho nuff overcome.
'Twas Grace that brought us safe so far
Cuz Grace got it goin' on.

Peace,
-T.


~
This one goes out
to the one I love

~
nine.thirty.one

On Security. I'm big on security. It's one of my top priorities. I never leave home without protection. When I go for my morning run I'm flanked by goons packing serious heat. I'm like Washington crossing the Delaware. Other joggers are profiled, questioned, and frisked with extreme prejudice. Just the other day there was this really suspicious looking hottie whom I personally patted down. Twice. Better safe than sorry, know what I mean? In addition, all houseguests are blindfolded on their ride over, incoming mail is inspected by a team of specialists, and my groceries are choppered in via helicopter. My Sunday drives are an all out motorcade--entire blocks are sealed off, the route meticulously scouted, the mayor alerted in advance. Someone said to me, "You shouldn't let terrorists change your way of life." And I'm like, "Terrorists? What are you talking about? I've been doing this since forever."
-T.


~
Rome wasn't
built in a day

~
October 7, 2001 A.D.

Words, words, words. I wish I coulda been there at the brainstorming session that dreamed up "Infinite Justice"--now changed to "Enduring Freedom." Imagine the ones that got rejected. "Operation: I Got Yer Jihad Right Here, Mother#*%!er." "Code Name: Who Wants To Be A Dead Terrorist Millionaire?" "The Manhuntin' Project." Personally, I like Infinite Justice, cuz it sounds like "Crisis on Infinite Earths." Hey, maybe them Marvel/DC boys were recruited by the government to join the think tank. Maybe some mysterious bald-headed federal dude named "X" went scouting for the top names in comics. One can imagine the fateful conversation: "Mr. McFarlane," intones X. "We need your talents." "But..." stammers the famed comic artist. "My McGwire balls just got devalued. I am so bummed." To which X retorts, "Sir, I don't care if your balls shrivel up and die. America needs you!" Of course, if any of this were true we'd now be waging "Operation: Desert Spawn."
-T.


~
Dog my cats!

~
Oct 14, 2001

Hollywood projects that have been cancelled or postponed due to inappropriate content:
· Turban Legend. The latest scare-fest from horror meister Clive Barker about a crazed New York City cab driver who terrorizes his clients by speeding.
· I Will Kill You All Because I Hate You. Brand new album from Eminem.
· Access Taliban. Celebrity gossip show featuring the hottest Third World fashions, exclusive inside look at luxurious caves.
· Maximum Overdrive 2: Airborne. Emilio Estevez reprises his role from the cult classic, this time stalked by a band of possessed crop dusters.
· The Sopranos Go To Washington. Special two hour season opener where our favorite mob family joins forces with U.S. Green Berets to take care of some "overseas business."
-T.


~
Every rose
has its thorn

~
10-21-01

Everywhere you look there's patriotic fever. Check it out:
· American flag turbans. The next hot fashion craze?
· U.S.A. for Afghanistan. The biggest names in Congress come together to record a benefit album for Afghan refugees. (During the session someone tripped the fire alarm, prompting most members of the House to clear the building.)
· 0.0% APR Financing from various automotive dealerships. Wow!
· Snoop Dog Raps The National Anthem. Funky, hip hop rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner." Sample line: "Ungh, ungh, yeah yeah, all right now, ungh."
· New Red, White, and Blue Lucky Charms. More magically delicious than ever!
· Uncle Sam Action Figures. Collect all members of The Coalition of Infinite Justice: Union Jack! Lady Liberty! Captain Democracy! Battle the evil forces of The Legion of Evil-Doers! Make no mistake!
-T.


~
Pop goes the world

~
2001-Oct-28

This week I thought I'd share something personal with y'all. A glimpse into my life, a peek into my soul, an inside look into my...

SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN: We interrupt this column with the latest on the Anthrax scare. The band is currently touring the continental U.S., last seen in a nightclub outside Des Moines, terrorizing citizens with their savage brand of speed metal. Rumors of Anthrax visiting the White House are unsubstantiated, but one inside source said, "I'd sure like to see them tour with Bush." At which point several Secret Service men wrestled him to the ground, bitchslapped him, and detained him for "making threats to the President." We now return to the column already in progress.

...and that's the reason I am the way I am. True story.
-T.


~
Take me out
to the ballgame

~
Nov. 4, 2001

What a thriller. An edge-of-your-seat, piss-in-your-pants nail-biter that went right down to the wire. Unbelievable. A Fall Classic for the ages. Dramatic plot twists. Heartbreaking setbacks. Miraculous comebacks. And a surprise ending. This truly had it all. I'm talking, of course, about the 2001 Emmy telecast. For a while there I thought they'd never get their shit together, but ultimately, in true Hollywood fashion, the human spirit prevailed. And the suspense! I thought The Sopranos had a lock on the top prize, but nooo, those West Wing punks came from behind to stage one mother humdinger of a rally. But that's not all. Oh no, my friends. Those Emmy geniuses saved the best for last. A surprise show-closing performance by none other than Barbra. I'm still numb from the shock of it all. Unbelievable.
-T.


~
Domo argiato,
Mr. Roboto
 ~
11-11-01

Had some computer problems last week and was unable to update the comic for a couple days. I'm all right. I wasn't hit with the anthrax or abducted by aliens or nothing like that. All is well at Sinfest Headquarters. The only casualty was The Streak, the distinction as comicdom's Iron Man, which is like, the most coveted record of all time. Since Cal Ripken hung up his cleats, I figured I might as well take the torch and keep the flame alive. I do what I can during these difficult times. Anyways, we're back up and running, thanks to the technical support team on the Resistance payroll. And thanks also to the readers who sent their well wishes and support. We loves ya! Good night!
xoxo,
-T.


~
Everybody have
fun tonight

~
Nov-18-2001

Let us say grace. Thank you, Big Daddy Force for the feast before us. We heartily partake in these delectable Hungryman turkey dinners, cranapple Hi-C's, and leftover biscuits from KFC. We woulda had 'taters too, but stupid Marco ate the Ruffles. But it's all right cuz later we shall delight in some scrumptious Hostess apple pies--dig that frosted coating--served with steaming hot Ovaltine. With marshmallows. Aww yeah. That's what I'm talking about. Down home ghetto banquet in the land of the free. So let us bow our heads and give thanks to all the good things in life, to the power that makes it possible, and to our brothers and sisters who fight for them. A thousand props to you. Amen.
-T.


~
I'm so bad I make
medicine sick

~
11/25/01

I dig the winter holidays. I like the spooky Halloween thing, the pilgrimy turkey ritual, and all that Santa stuff. Basically we dedicate a whole season to stuffing ourselves, singing goofy songs, and watching cartoons. It's so... manly. I don't know how many times I've seen that Frosty special, but I get choked up every time. And Rudolph, he's my boy. He's like the symbol of freaky individuality that lights the way. And of course, the mack daddy of them all, A Charlie Brown Christmas. Maybe one day we'll see A Boondocks Kwanza Spectacular, or How the Grinch Stole Ramadan, or hell, let's dream big--The Sinfestival of Lights: An Animated Extravaganza featuring Adam Sandler as the Devil.
-T.


~
Something in the
way she moves

~
December 2nd, 2001

The creative process here at Sinfest Headquarters is a rigorously regimented science. We conduct thorough studies and market surveys to gauge the moods and tastes of the general populace. We assign a team to scour all available media outlets-- television, radio, newsprint, internet--for the latest trends and topics. (We got one guy, Ned, whose sole responsibility is to watch Mexican soap operas.) We then compile and input the data into our patented Sin-o-vision® computer program, which converts the material into comic strip form. After the strips pass their focus groups and test screenings of people in the 18-36 age bracket, we ship them priority mail to Mr. Ishida (who lives in a top secret underground facility) for final approval. Upon return delivery we upload them onto the Sinfest mainframe and bring the magic to you. Voila!
-T.


~
We gonna rock down to
Electric Avenue

~
Dec 9, '01

As most of you have probably heard by now, I was once again snubbed by People magazine's Sexiest Man of the Year contest. I try not to let it get me down, but I'm starting to get discouraged. Every year I get my hopes up, thinking: "This...this is my year." And every year I get passed up by lesser, second-rate celebrities. It's just not right. I mean, I spend a lot of time being sexy. I got that rugged cartoonist thing going on and everything. A little acknowledgment would be nice, that's all I'm saying. I may have to start a new counter, The Futility Watch II: Tracking the number of times Tatsuya gets snubbed by People magazine, thus reaffirming his status as an indie sex god.
-T.


~
Won't you guide
my sleigh tonight?

~
12/16/01

Some more suggestions for holiday specials:
· Celebrity Death Match: Scrooge versus The Grinch. It's an all out hate-fest!
· Pamela Anderson sings All I Want For Christmas Are My Two Front Tits.
· F2: Judgment Day. In this explosive sequel Frosty takes on an evil snowman from the future, the F-1000.
· Santa's Got a Brand New Bag. James Brown leads an all Black cast in this soul revue musical.
· Miracle on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The heartwarming tale of a President who still believes in the missile defense shield program.
· A Sopranos Christmas. Three wise guys go to their godson's christening, bearing cannoli and wine.
-T.


~
Happy happy joy joy
to the world

~
December.23.2001

'Twas the night 'fore Agnostica, when all through the city not a rapper was rhymin', not even P. Diddy; The malls were all empty, department stores closed; The gifts were all wrapped, the greetings composed; Streetlamps were dimmed then darkened entirely, as Gen-Xers mourned the passing of irony; When out from the stillness came a phat funky beat, and shook the foundations of the once peaceful street; 'Twas the spirit of punk god Joey Ramone singing "Twenty twenty twenty four hours to go-o-o-o..." Oh! Then Aaliyah bust in like a superstar, while George Harrison jams on electric sitar; He slows it down and she strikes a pose, singing "There's something in the way she flows." When it's time to bounce they shout from above: "Happy Solstice to all and to all One Love!"
-T.


All contents copyright 2006 by Tatsuya Ishida/Museworks. No duplication, reproduction, or reprinting of Sinfest strips and/or related characters allowed without written permission from the author/publisher.

i did it all for the pocky