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2002

 ~
Make new friends
but keep the old

~

notes from the resistance

January 1, 2002
Should old school homeys be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old school homeys be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We have carved our names on walls
And tagged up freeway signs;
We've hit up all the mini-malls
Since days of auld lang syne.

We rocked out to pop radio,
Thinking we was fly;
We did not know the dilly-o
Since days of auld lang syne.

So here's a hand, my trusty friend
And give a hand o' thine;
We'll take a toke o' kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my friend,
For auld lang syne;
Do the Safety Dance and the Cabbage Patch,
For days of auld lang syne.

-T.


~ 
We are here to
pump you up

~

Jan 6, 02

Resolutions for 2002:
· Learn how to play air guitar.
· Bungee jump from the Eiffel Tower while screaming, "Ouiiiii!"
· Get a butler and call him "Alfred" even if that's not his name.
· Produce my own biopic, Tat Cometh: Hide Your Women. Directed by John Woo, starring Rob Schneider in a breakout action role.
· Write sequel to my memoirs, TI: Episode 2: Clone This!
· Continue with my Jedi training.
· Start a one man rave, go on world tour.
· Visit a nuclear facility, freak out people by saying, "Hey, what's this button do?"
· Retire. Play baseball. Make glorious comeback.
· Do a little dance.
· Make a little love.
· Get down tonight.
Okay. Let's get to it.
-T.


~
 Take me down
to Paradise City

~

1-13-02

More Sinfest headlines of the future:
· U.S. Postal Service takes a poll on whether the new stamp should feature the young thin Slick or the old fat Slick.
· New Euro currency to feature Squigley dressed up like Napoleon.
· Popular children's program The Pooch and Percival Show put on indefinite hiatus when Percival checks into catnip rehab.
· Fort Lauderdale selected as site for First Annual Ms. Sinfest Pageant. Bring your own thong!
· Winona Ryder caught stealing bandwidth from sinfest.net. "I just had to have it," says klepto celebrity.
· Tatsuya Ishida's cameo appearance in Star Wars: Episode 18: Your Mom's a Sith ignites flurry of internet protests.
-T.


~
This message will self-
destruct in 5 seconds

~

01-20-02

The pessimist says the cup is half empty. The optimist says it's half full. The pragmatist says its liquid contents are at 50% capacity. The ironist says it's half full of air. The plumber says the cup must be leaking. George Carlin says the cup is too big. The Starbucks employee says it's so you have room for cream. The conspiracy theorist says aliens took the other half. The baseball player says his cup is definitely full. MacGuyver says he can build a powerful explosive with it. The psychoanalyst says the cup is your mother. The punk sitting next to you also says the cup is your mother. The romance novelist says the cup is a willing receptacle to the wild gushing torrents of pure passion from the hard chiseled urn. The zen master says, "There is no cup." Pamela Anderson says her cups are definitely full. And me, I say, "Waitress! Refill!"
-T.


~
We are the first, the last,
and only line of defense

~

Jan. 27, 2002

Please Stand By. Looks like the e-mail subscription list got wiped out a couple weeks back. I know this because I felt a great disturbance in the Force. It was as if a million voices cried out in terror, "Where's my Sinfest?" as citizens started rioting in the streets, razing landmarks, torching their cities. Sinfest Headquarters has been flooded with distress calls from various heads of state, community leaders, the Pope, and other fanpersons. Naturally they're all quite concerned. Please do not panic. We have the situation under control. Interpol has activated their most elite trouble-shooting task force and the Commissioner has turned on the Tat Signal. Help is on the way. (This just in: Sign up again and you're good to go. Thank you for your patience.)
-T.


~
I coulda been
a contendah
 ~
February 3, 2002

Everything about the Superbowl is so over the top you gotta love it. That pregame show was a riot. Barry Manilow and Patti LaBelle! Hundreds of kids dressed up as red, white, and blue Lady Liberties! Former Presidents quoting Lincoln! Mariah Carey straight outta rehab! What the hell is going on? Who cares? I could almost see the director gesticulating wildly, imploring: "More outrageous! I want more OUTRAGEOUS!" It was like a big F.U. aimed at anti-American sentiments, a message to all the haters and perpetrators. You don't like our way of life? You think we're shallow and materialistic and prone to excess? Watch this. Yes. 'Twas a big overproduced glitzy star-spangled middle finger in the face of terror. And there's even a moral to the whole thing: Patriots win. Pure Hollywood. You gotta love it.
-T.


~
She thinks she's
the passionate one

~
two.ten.two

A Valentine's Day Medley:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Filled with stars and rocket ships;
All that's best of dark and bright
Glisten in her eyes and lips:
Good God.
She's all that and a bag of chips.
So I tells her:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Oh girl, you're so much hotter:
You're kinder than the kindest buds in May,
Cooler than the hydrant's gushing water;
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
But at my back I always hear
Time's boxcar racer roaring near.
So do me, baby
Like you never done before;
Oh, give it to me
Till I just can't take no more;
Do me, baby
Like you never done before;
I want you now,
I just can't wait no more.
-T.


~
Are you gonna
go my way?

~
feb.17.2001

Beasties Remix:
I'm sending this one out to all the California girls...
To all the bleach blondes...
Brunettes...
Redheads...
Nubian goddesses...
To the dragon ladies and lotus blossoms from the Far East...
To all the Swiss misses...
To the lower west end nubiles...
Spanish fly girls...
Chicas...
Latinas...
To the film noir femme fatales...
B-movie actresses...
The women of wrestling...
Go-go dancers...
Rock chicks...
To all the punk girls...
Goth girls...
Raver girls...
Riot grrls...
To all the girls next door...
And all the girls gone wild at Mardi Gras...
xoxo,
-T.


~
Would you like
green eggs and ham?

~
2-24-2002

After Nietzsche:
Supposing Truth to be a woman--then she must be the hottest babe ever, cuz all these geniuses throughout history can't stop talking about her. Truth this, truth that. The end all be all mother of all abstractions. And the rest of us are what, shacking up with Gossip and Bullshit, the Skanks of Babylon? Hell, at least they know how to have a good time. Truth is so high maintenance. Her standards are so high. And she always gotta be right. On top of all that she plays hard to get. She oughtta lighten up, ya know? Be more like her sister, Dare. Now she knows how to party! But who knows, maybe deep down even the pristine Truth has a wild side. Maybe had a lesbian threeway with Karma and Felicity... Dropped some acid back in her experimental college days... Or got caught exposing herself in "Truth Gone Wild" video... Whatever the case may be, you know it's gotta be stranger than fiction.
-T.


~
Free your mind and
your ass will follow

~
March 3, 2002

As most of you have probably heard by now, I have failed yet again to make Forbes magazine's Richest Billionaires List. Every year I run out to the newsstand to pick up that particular issue, and every year I walk away disappointed. I mean, it's just one minor technicality that keeps me off the list. Namely, the fact that I'm not a billionaire. It's just not right. I oughtta write the editor, demand they come up with an alternate list honoring the slummin'est slackers of the year. I'll be all over that list, boy. They could even launch a spinoff 'zine, Ghetto Forbes, to chronicle the success stories of the zero income bracket. The inaugural issue could feature Kato Kalin on the cover. Hot topics: "Pot: Is it for you?" "I'm a hobo and I'm proud." "Break-Even-Quick Schemes!" And of course, there'll be an annual Golddigger issue spotlighting all the lovely ladies of slackdom. It's a blockbuster, I'm telling you.
-T.


~
Talkin' 'bout
my generation

~
3/10/02

They say honesty is the best policy. Happiness is the best revenge. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And laughter is the best medicine. They say ignorance is bliss. Knowledge is power. Necessity is the mother of invention. And all the world is a stage. Or a banquet. Or an illusion. Or whatever you make of it. They say you can't fight City Hall. They say every man has his price. Money talks. Sex sells. Power corrupts. Truth hurts. Psychiatry kills. And Time heals all wounds. They say it's a dog-eat-dog world. The early bird gets the worm. The grass is always greener on the other side. And when I was your age I had to walk to school in the snow uphill both ways... So remember to stop and smell the roses. For today is the first day of the rest of your life. And don't you worry about what they say.
-T.


~
Schwing!
~
3-17-02

On imitation. "Imitation is suicide," wrote Emerson. And I totally agree. Ain't no point in biting someone else's style. You gotta find your own voice, do your own thing, dance to the beat of your own drum. Then again, modeling yourself after your hero is part of growing up. Take me, for instance. Back in my junior high school days I used to sport a bitchin' mullet afro like the guy in Hall and Oats. I also had a tremendous collection of pastel T-shirts with slogans like "Radical!" and "This Is Your Brain On Drugs." I had my L.A. Gear sneaks, my Sanyo boombox, my water resistant Swatch (with bendable Swatchguard), and I rocked out the to the musical stylings of Deep Purple. Obviously, I had it goin' on. But I'm past all that now--wiser, more mature, no longer swayed by such silly trends. I have my own unique style now. I got my cornrows, my tats, my ice. Cruising the west side in my suped up Kia. I just gotta be me, yo.
-T.


~
You may already
be a winner

~
Mar. 24, 2002

Scenes deleted from the Oscar telecast:
· Interview of me talking about my favorite movie, Pimps up, Hos down.
· Winona Ryder streaking the stage in a blatant attempt to steal the show.
· The elf mosh pit that formed during Enya's musical performance.
· Three Al Qaeda terrorists caught trying to sneak in as Cirque du Soleil performers.
· Another interview of me talking about my other favorite movie, "Kung Pow."
· Whoopi crowdsurfing during Denzel's acceptance speech.
· The intense backstage dance-off between J.Lo and John Travolta.
· Tom Green getting "creative" with Oscar statuettes.
· Ron Howard dedicating his award to "all you crazy mofos out there!"
-T.


~
Gonna have a ball tonight
down at the Globe

~

March 31, 2002

Now that March Madness is over, it's time for April Apathy, a.k.a. tax season. Ah Spring, that time of year when young men's fancy turns to chugging 40s and flubbing their 1040s. It's so fitting that we do our taxes right around April Fool's Day, since it's all a pack of lies anyway. Say, that's a pretty good defense strategy. The IRS audits your ass, subpoenas you from here to the middle of next quarter, mounts a federal investigation into your money laundering operation in Stockholm, Madrid, and Belfast, and you say, "April Fool's! Gotcha!" It's worth a shot. Cuz hey, that's the way of the world, bubba. The government lies to the people in the name of National Security. And the people lie to the government in the name of Fiscal Reality. Booyah!
-T.


~
The butter's gettin' hard
and the jell-o is jiggling

~

April 7, 2002

Yes, the rumors are true. I was in fact a candidate for the coveted starring role on ABC's The Bachelor. I was right there in the final rounds of the selection process when the producers called me in for further questioning. They had dug up my rap sheet, my FBI file, my ties to every mafia/yakuza/triad organization in existence, my mutant healing powers and adamantium claws. The jig, as they say, was up. To their credit they were very diplomatic when they let me go. "Mr. Ishida," they said to me, "After careful review we have decided that you are a total freak. We recommend you try out for Fox's Celebrity Boxing. Best of luck to you. Bye bye now." Which is just as well. If I was the Bachelor I would've gone up to each babe and been like, "Say my name, you bag of poon! Say it!" Which, I suppose, is something America is not ready for.
-T.


~
We are all the all-singing all-dancing crap of the world
~

Apr 14, '02

Television shows currently in development:
· The Chair. Live from Texas, it's Must Kill TV. Actual televised executions! Hosted by President George W. Bush. Survive this, CBS!
· That '90s Show. From the geniuses who brought you those other shows. Meet the Grungies, Seattle's favorite chain-smoking, anti-Establishment family. Brought to you by Flannel.
· Martha Stewart After Dark. America's favorite homemaker gets down and dirty. Sample dialogue: "Yes. Right there. Oh yes. Watch the satin sheets. Oh. Oh. Oh. Careful with the drapes." · The Humperdinks. VH-1's answer to MTV's smash hit The Osbournes. Join Engleburt and his wild and crazy family! Rock!
· Iron Chef Baked. Guest host Woody Harrelson makes his "specialty" brownies.
· Sex and the Amish Country. Meet the fabulous ladies of rural Pennsylvania and their scandalous lifestyle!
-T.


~
You don't have to
put on the red light

~
4/21/2002

On Reality. Philosophers have puzzled over it. Scientists have studied it. Network executives market it. Reality. What is Reality? Like Morpheus said, "It's all around us." A neural-interactive simulation construct thingie designed to do whatever the hell it was designed to do. Me, I call it the ultimate buzzkill. I'd be grooving along all blissful and ignorant and happy as shit and BAM! Reality hits me like a thunderbolt. A reality check, they call it. A wake-up call. A kick in the ass. And it totally wrecks my buzz, man. But hey, I can dig it. Sometimes things go your way, other times you realize that evil robot machines are harvesting your energy supply. You win some, you lose some, you know what I'm saying? So bring it, Reality. Let's dance.
-T.


Do you believe
in miracles?

4-28-02

Synopsis of my next bestseller T.I.: Episode II: Clone This!
· Chapter I: The Fandom Menace. Tatsuya recalls memorable encounters with fans. "One time this girl asks me for an autograph and I blurt out, 'Gonna shake my magic marker! Ungh! Good God! Watch me dance now! (does a butt grind, hip thrust) Ha ha!'"
· Chapter II: What is Matrimony? On the mysteries of love and relationships. "So she wants to cuddle and I'm like, 'Not now, baby.' And then she's all, 'Let's spoon.' 'Spoon???' I say incredulously. 'There is no spoon!'"
· Chapter III: Can You Smell What The Tat Is Cooking? Actual recipes from The Bachelor Cooking Show: Banana Burritos! Delivery Pizza! Beer!
· Chapter IV: This Moment Is So Much Bigger Than Me. Dedications and thank yous. "I'd like to thank God, my agent, the makers of Pocky... And to all my Padawan bitches out there: I loves ya! xoxo"
-T.


 
 
~
Who watches
the Watchmen?
~
 
May 5, 2002
What if someone else directed Spider-Man?
James Cameron. Green Goblin renamed G-1000, given special morphing powers. Spider-Man keeps saying, "I'll be back." And Mary Jane keeps saying, "I'll never let go."
Tim Burton. Title changed to Edward Spider-Hands. Winona Ryder as a goth Gwen Stacy. Climactic battle: Angry mob wielding pitchforks and torches calls for Spidey's head.
Quentin Tarantino. Set in the 70s. Peter Parker bitten by a psychedelic spider loaded with LSD. Samuel Jackson as jive-talking "J.J." Jameson, editor in chief at the Daily Brother.
Martin Scorsese: "Flash, are you talking to me? Are you talking to me? You must be talking to me, cuz there's no one else around."
Woody Allen. Peter Parker consults a shrink. Says he dresses up in colorful outfits and likes to go "swinging."

-T.
~
Nobody walks in L.A.
~
May 12, 2002
Some of my failed get-rich-quick schemes:
The Test Pattern Channel. Nothing but test patterns all day long. Advertiser interest low despite our monopoly of 18-35 year old insane acid freaks.
Capitalists Gone Wild. I taped a bunch of late night infomercials and thought I'd sell them under said title. Includes footage of me making the tapes. Wild!
The Imaginary Pet. Now this one is really cool. Comes with imaginary adoption papers, imaginary vaccination documents, and imaginary birth certificate. Problem was, all my customers were imaginary too.
Suckapalooza. Open mic karaoke world tour.
The Pro-matic Pronto-Wanker. I'm not sure what this thing is or what it's supposed to do, but it's very affordable and if you order now you'll also receive the versatile Multi-Purpose Wonder-Splooter.

-T.
~
Pour some sugar
on me

~
05-19-02
What if someone else directed Star Wars?
· Stanley Kubrick. Galaxy overrun by juvenile delinquents. Vader renamed "Darth Hal."
· Francis Ford Coppola. Emperor insists on being called "Godfather." Says the Jedi "sleeps with the fishes tonight."
· Oliver Stone. The Supreme Chancellor is assassinated by fascist fanatic Lee Ozwaldo. Investigators uncover a massive plot involving another gunman in the "grassy Naboo."
· Adrian Lyne. In a scorching 20 minute sex scene Anakin shows Padme his "Jedi love tricks." Later a spurned Padme boils Anakin's pet Ewok.
· Spike Lee. When corrupt Imperial Troopers are exonerated, riots break out on the ghetto planet Kompton. To restore order the Jedi Council calls on the militant left wing group the Black Banthas.
· M. Night Shyamalan. Young Padawan learner haunted by visions. "I see digital people."

-T.
~
Hail to the
king, baby

~
5/26/02
So I'm listening to 80s golden oldies and I notice a lot of redundant names. Duran Duran. Mr. Mister. Talk Talk. Lisa Lisa. The Go-gos. Soul II Soul. Tom Tom Club. Oingo Boingo. Scritti Politti. Milli Vanilli. Bow Wow Wow. LL Cool J. ZZ Top. Perhaps the lethal combination of cocaine and hairspray caused the Me Generation to see double. Good thing they regained their focus or else we'd now be grooving to 'N Sync Sync and Destiny's Twins. Then in the 90s we got a bunch of food names: Smashing Pumpkins, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Phish, Korn, Cake, Pearl Jam, Mudhoney, Lemonheads, Blind Melon, Fiona Apple, Ice T, Ice Cube, Limp Bizkit, Eminem. Which is what happens when you smoke the ganja. You get the munchies and end up naming your band after whatever you scarf down. "Man, these pumpkin pies are smashing!"
-T.
~
You shook me
all night long

~
June 2, 2002
On sports. So I'm cheering my team on, whooping it up, chanting, praying, hexing opposing players, making voodoo dolls--you know, the usual fan stuff. Cuz it's a primal thing, sports. It's territorial. It's tribal. My city can kick your city's ass. It's like a person's religion and politics rolled into one, only crazier. A packed stadium is like the Colosseum in ancient Rome. A raucous arena is like Thunderdome. Of course, things were a bit more brutal back then, what with actual killing and all. Which naturally begs the question: What if ancient Rome had free agency? That might've leveled the playing field. Imagine the headlines: Perennial underdogs the Christian Martyrs signs prep school phenom Maximus the Gladiator. Makes blockbuster trade for all-star Praetorian Guard. Coach Paul says he feels confident about the next tournament. "We're gonna spank those Lions this time," says prophet.
-T.
~
Snap!
~
six/nine/two
And now a look into the year 2090...
· Mars colonized by Starbucks and BMW. Establishes yuppie paradise.
· Gallop poll reveals everyone has had their 15 minutes. Nothing left to live for. Global populace in doldrums.
· Capitol Hill considers adding Bill Clinton to Mount Rushmore. Senate member dies laughing.
· Dick Clark hosts Rockin' New Year's Eve for the last time. "I'm getting kind of old," says broadcast legend.
· Polar ice caps melt, floods Scandinavia. Republicans concede global warming "may be real."
· Construction of Disney Mecca plagued by suicide bombers from rival DreamWorks.
· Martians attack Earth. Flying Beemers descend on metropolitan areas. Aliens appear wired.
· Sony's popular line of cybernetic butlers malfunctions, terminates everyone named John Connor. The age of robots begins.
· Uranus colonized by Playboy. Hef revived from frozen hibernation to "bless" planet with blonde triplets.

-T.
~
Everybody's got
a hungry heart

~
6-16-02
Food for thought. They say the world is our oyster. Variety is the spice of life. And we live in the land of milk and honey. We got eye candy. Flavors of the month. Toast of the town. The coolest thing since sliced bread. The creme de la creme. All that and a bag of chips. And if life gives you a lemon, make lemonade. But what about the bad apples and the sour grapes and the raspberries and the tough nuts you can't crack? Life may be a banquet but it's no picnic, either. But hey, if you can't take the heat then get out of the kitchen. Cuz you can't have your cake and eat it too. There's no such thing as a free lunch. You gotta break a few eggs if you want to make an omelette, you know what I'm saying? So remember: You are what you eat. The proof is in the pudding, my friend.
How'd you like them apples?

-T.
~
We don't need
no thought control

~
Jun-23-2002
On philosophy. As most of you know, I'm a very philosophical cat. I gets my think on, you know what I'm saying? I'm always contemplating shit. Deep shit. Like, if a tree fell in the forest and no one's around, does it make a sound? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? And just how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood? Now, call me crazy, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the woodchuck had something to do with that tree falling in the forest. And the chicken probably came first, cuz he's better trained, what with all that crossing the road he does. But don't feel bad for the egg; he gets laid more. Which goes to show you the cosmic balance and harmony of the universe. I'm off to my mountaintop to meditate. Ooommmmmmm...
-T.
~
I got the brains,
you got the looks

~
06.30.02
On business. The artist/business relationship has always been a stormy one. Michelangelo haggled with the church. Kubrick tangled with the studio. Prince locked horns with his label. Watterson battled his syndicate. It's tempting to romanticize the whole thing as integrity versus greed, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. It makes me smile when I think about Watterson telling the moneygrubbers to go blow themselves. I get a kick out of Prince taking on a giant conglomerate. And who knows, I may one day go a few rounds against big business myself. Maybe I'll change my name to a semi-colon or an asterisk or something. Oo, I know. A dollar sign! Won't that be rich? The Artist Now Known As Money battles corporate greed. Ha ha!
-T.
~
Today's the greatest
day I've ever known

~
seven.seven.two.
Some new parlor games:
· Six Degrees of Separation from Your Momma. "Kevin Bacon was in Apollo 13 with Tom Hanks who was in Saving Private Ryan with Matt Damon who was in Good Will Hunting with Ben Affleck who was in Chasing Amy with Joey Lauren Adams who was in Big Daddy which is what your momma calls me when I nail her."
· Full Contact Slaps. Variation of Slaps that includes headbutts, drop-kicks, and eye-pokes.
· Jabberwocky Password. Same as Password, with totally made up words. Impossible to win.
· Virtual Staring Contest. Stare down your opponent via webcams!
· Extreme Thumb Wrestling. A no holds barred version of the original. Go nuts!
· Socrates' 20 Questions. Stump your opponent with 20 philosophical questions and force him to reevaluate his whole belief system. Warning: May result in death by angry mob.

-T.
~
And Bingo was
his name-o

~
July.14.2002
Psychological Test: Imagine you're in a forest. You come across a cup. What kind of cup is it? Do you keep it? You move on and you see a key. What's it look like? What does it open? You walk deeper into the forest and you arrive at a house. What kind of house is it? Does anyone live there? You press on you and come to a body of water. What's it like? Do you dip your hands and feet? Go for a swim? Finally you move out of the forest and come to a gift shop. You walk in and a clerk says, "Thank you for playing our Psychological Test! Please choose from our wide selection of memorabilia to remember your visit! Souvenir cups! Key chains! How about this handsome number: 'I Took A Pyschological Test And All I Got Was This Stupid T-shirt.' Tre chic!" Do you buy anything? Ask to see the manager? Or do you kick the clerk's ass and trash the joint?
-T.
~
Don't go chasing
waterfalls

~
07.21.2002
They should do a National Geographic Animal Kingdom-type special on cartoonists. Have like Jane Goodall study them in their natural habitat. Imagine the log entries:
DAY 1. I'm in the artist's studio. The creature is hunched over his drawing table, totally spaced out.
DAY 2. In an attempt to gain his trust I smear my shirt with ink blotches, just like his. I think I'm making progress.
DAY 3. I lean over to see what he's drawing. This was a mistake. He nearly bites my head off. Crikey! The bastards are touchy.
DAY 4. The creature is scribbling frantically. He is visibly excited. I keep my distance.
DAY 5. A breakthrough. During one of his many cigarette breaks, the creature tosses me a stick. I think he's accepted me as one of his own. I'm part of the tribe now.

-T.
~
What's another word
for pirate treasure?

~
July 28, 2002
Movie Idea. Bizarre crop circles appear on surfaces across the globe. So the government dispatches Agent J to investigate, who uncovers a massive plot involving a lesbian clone army on planet Ya-Ya. He races home to expose the divine secret of the sisterhood, but a bounty hunter is hot on his trails. To elude his pursuer he travels back in time to the 1970s where he meets funky diva Destiny Bootilicious. After much sex and violence he is bitten by a genetically engineered hamster and fights crime as Stuart-Man. Meanwhile back on earth giant eight-legged freaks run amok, while the Croc Hunter explains how to properly wrestle one to the ground. Suddenly, the Mystery Machine pulls up and the Scooby Doo gang reveals that the big spiders are actually just dragons in disguise, who would've gotten away with it had it not been for you meddling kids.
-T.
~
Ya hearrrrrd?
~
Aug 4, 2002
Random things at the San Diego ComiCon:
· Security guards searched and detained me when my fully armored Robotech costume set off the metal detectors.
· First time convention goers dropped to their knees, overcome with a feeling of oneness. "I'm home," they said.
· Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes were seen outside the convention hall, selling weed and harrassing patrons.
· Highlight of the Masquerade Ball: An amorous Nightwing getting jiggy on the dance floor, putting the moves on Tank Girl.
· Riots break out when Vampirella versus Elvira: Celebrity Mudwrestling is cancelled.
· A Westside Story type showdown occurs between Jhonen Vasquez and Trent Reznor to decide once and for all who is the gothest of them all.

-T.
~
Watch me dance now!
~
08.11.02
Drawing comics, like anything in life, is all about trial and error. You try out your ideas, some work, others don't. Sometimes you hit a groove, sometimes you hit a wall. Sometimes people pat you on the back. Sometimes they bust your balls. Sometimes you play it safe. Other times you take a chance. Sometimes you go, "Damn, I'm a super genius." But most of the time you're like, "What the heck am I doing?" Sometimes you're ready to quit. Sometimes you feel like you've just begun. And sometimes, once in a long while, you get one of those epiphanies, them zen moments when it all comes together-- you understand your place in the universe, you are one with everything, the future's looking bright, and you're living in the now.
-T.
~
I write on the lintels
of the doorpost, "Whim"

~
08/18/02
The process. So I get an idea and I sketch it out and I rework it a bit and I change this around and switch that up and I read it again and I erase that little section and add a little something over there and then I draw a little clock in the second panel just for the heck of it and then I'm like, oh shit now I gotta draw that same damn clock in the other panels too, so I think about whiting that little bugger right off but then I look at it and it looks pretty cool so I suck it up and draw it again and again and again and I'm like, damn, I wish I had a copy machine and then it occurs to me that Photoshop has that copy and paste command, which means I totally wasted my time, but I'm an old school purist who prefers hand drawing every single line myself, so it serves me right!
-T.
~
You gotta get
yourself connected

~
Aug 25, 2002
On women. Women are burdened with a power that most guys haven't a clue about. The future of humanity depends on them. They are the judges in the great Gene Pool Sweepstakes. They are natural selection. Meanwhile, us guys are walking around picking our noses, driving really fast and watching sports. You know, the important stuff. Cuz when the fourth quarter rolls around, does anything else really matter? Anyway, back to women. They determine whose genes get passed on. They gotta choose wisely. Look around. Comparison shop. Read the fine print. Cuz everyday they're bombarded with guys like me advertising his goods: Check out my chromosomes, ladies. I got all sorts of cool Xs and Ys! I gots the premium choice special blend DNA! Neat recessive stuff, spectacular dominants! Act now! Take my double helix out for a test drive!
-T.
 

 
~
Inconceivable!

~
 
September 1, 2002
On life. At any given point in life, you're either in training or you're in the trenches. You're either learning the ropes or paving the way. You're busy searching or busy realizing. And most of us are trainees, bush leaguers, Padawan learners not yet allowed to sit at the Jedi table. We use kidproof light sabers. Simulate battles in the Danger Room. Ride with training wheels. Practice, practice, practice. And we're all so impatient to engage with the real world, eager to change things and make everything perfect forever. And in our haste we defy our higher-ups, set off for the big bad world, and roundly get our asses whipped. And every one of us, sooner or later, end up back in school. But ain't no shame in that. That's the way of the world, the circle of life, the master plan, you dig?
-T.
~
I gotta go see
about a girl

~
9-8-02
On self-awareness. To know oneself is tougher than it seems. Cuz we sorta assume we know who we are. Mostly just the good stuff. And maybe some cursory acknowledgment of our faults. But to truly know oneself is a life long task, and even that may not be enough time. We tend to flatter ourselves, then criticize ourselves, without ever really getting acquainted with ourselves. We go hot and cold, we're on again, off again, in a stormy love-hate relationship with our own selves. When our hearts stray, and we do things we really don't really intend, say things we don't really mean, we cover it up and we lie to ourselves and we grow distant from... our own damn selves. Ah, if only we can remain true to who we are, and love who we are, and just be who we are, in spite of ourselves.
-T.
~
You can't handle
the truth!

~
Nine/Fifteen/Two
On censorship. Censorship is confusing. Like, I don't quite understand why "shit" is so unmentionable while the word "hate" is perfectly acceptable. Think about it. You can say "hate" in the classroom, on television, to your parents, to little children, to the Pope, to anyone at all without any worries of impropriety. But say "shit" and all hell breaks loose. What message does this send our impressionable youth? What sort of values are we teaching the kids? That hating is okay compared to the unspeakable sin that is taking a dump. So we're programmed in this Puritan society to feel guilt and shame for taking a crap, but we're free to hate all we want. "Forgive me Father for today I pinched out a loaf that stunk to high heaven. I am a bad bad moral midget of man. Then some dude made a crack about how I fouled up the restroom. Lord, how I hate him. What a jerkweed. As if his shit don't stink --oops, I mean, poop. Sorry, Lord."
-T.
~
I'm thinking of a number
between 1 and 100

~
Sept. 22, 2002
So some jazz dude is suing the Beastie Boys for sampling his music. I'm more than a little interested in the issue of artistic ownership, since I too have "borrowed" other people's creations. So far, no law suits. But you never know, especially if I ever make it big. I can see it now. People'll be suing me for the tone of my voice and shit. "Your honor, the defendant spoke with a blatant disregard for my emotionals thus causing me great psychological distress and metaphysical injuriousness which has rendered me incompacified and utterly abjectly discombamboozled, thusly, ergo, i.e., I seek the monetarial damages and compensation of $100 million billion dollars to the googol power times infinity plus one, your honor, sir."
-T.
~
I got your back
~
09/29/02
I knew this one girl who always went for guys she couldn't have. Something about wanting a challenge. So naturally I told her she couldn't have me. "I'm off limits, baby. Sorry." And she was all, "Oh really?" And I was like, "Really." And she went, "Why?" And I went, "Because I don't agree with the whole notion of pursuing someone out of some desire to feel challenged. That cheapens the very concept of romance, as if it's all just a game and the goal is to win. No, baby. The goal is to love." And I meant it, too. Cuz, you know, I'm all heart and shit. So anyway, we went out a couple times, but then she met a guy she really couldn't have, and it was game over for me. And I thought to myself: Damn, I played it all wrong.
-T.
~
Put that in your
pipe and smoke it

~
Oct. 13, '02
On parents. You know that phase when you're embarrassed of your parents and you just can't take them anywhere? And you can't believe you're related to them and you're convinced you must've been adopted and your real parents must be somewhere worried sick about you? And you wonder why your folks had you at all and why in the world isn't there some qualifying exam to become a parent in the first place? You know, like some American Idol-ish Bachelor-type competition where couples compete for the right to have a kid. Call it "Copulation Island." The contestants would have to go through a battery of tests, each round eliminating one couple and removing their reproductive organs. But they will receive a lovely parting gift: a "You--Out of the Gene Pool!" bumper sticker. Thanks for playing. Buh-bye now.
-T.
~
I'm taking you down
to Chinatown

~
Nov. 3, '02
On wisdom. At some point in your life you make such a monumental ass of yourself that you can't escape the thought that perhaps you are a total idiot. Maybe you get smashed at a party and pass out in the jacuzi, but not before you put on a bubble wrap toga and run around asking the ladies to "pop" you. Not that this happened to me. Cuz it didn't. Really, it didn't. Anyway, it's at this moment, when you stop and realize what a fool you are, that you approach something called wisdom. It's sort of like a hazing ritual for enlightenment. You must endure much embarrassment before you achieve enlightenment. Before you can know yourself you must first learn to laugh at yourself. Except me. I have no embarrassing stories about me whatsoever. All that stuff about getting smashed and bubble wrap togas--not me. I just made it up. Really.
-T.
~
This is your life!
~
11-24-02
On judgment. People are always going on about how bad it is to judge others, how no one has the right to pass judgment and don't you dare judge me who the hell do you think you are and so on and so forth. Which sort of makes a mockery of our court system, our sporting events, and of course, American Idol. Without judges, these esteemed institutions of American culture would cease to function. And nobody wants that. Without judgment all manner of disputes would go unresolved, athletics would fail to deliver a winner, and we'd have no President. Judgment ain't a bad thing in and of itself. Until, of course, someone judges me, and I'll be all like, "What, you judging me? Don't you dare judge me. Who the hell do you think you are?"
-T.
~
Kiss them for me--
I may be delayed

~
December 8, 2002
The book has arrived. Finally. At long last. The wait is over. The first collection of Sinfest strips is available in print form. The first year's worth of strips, all bound like a real book with pages and everything. Cuddle up with it in bed! Stand on a street corner and recite chapter and verse! Read it to your kids as bedtime stories! Have a book burning! Go door to door and convert people! Send copies to the U.N. for review and inspection! Hey, it's all good!
-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.

are you a happy nina?