Make new friends
but keep the old
notes from the
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.
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
· 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
· 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.
Take me down
to Paradise City
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
· 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
This message will self-
destruct in 5 seconds
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,
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.)
I coulda been
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.
She thinks she's
the passionate one
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:
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.
Are you gonna
go my way?
I'm sending this one out to all the California girls...
To all the bleach blondes...
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...
To the film noir femme fatales...
The women of wrestling...
To all the punk girls...
To all the girls next door...
And all the girls gone wild at Mardi Gras...
Would you like
green eggs and ham?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
· 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
· The intense backstage dance-off between J.Lo and
· Tom Green getting "creative" with Oscar statuettes.
· Ron Howard dedicating his award to "all you crazy
mofos out there!"
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!
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.
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!
· 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!
You don't have to
put on the red light
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
Do you believe
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
· 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"
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
Woody Allen. Peter Parker consults a shrink. Says he dresses
up in colorful outfits and likes to go "swinging."
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
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
Pour some sugar
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."
Hail to the
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
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.
And now a look into the year 2090...
· Mars colonized by Starbucks and BMW. Establishes
· 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.
a hungry heart
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?
You are what you eat. The proof is in the pudding, my friend.
How'd you like
We don't need
no thought control
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...
I got the brains,
you got the looks
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!
Today's the greatest
day I've ever known
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.
And Bingo was
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?
Don't go chasing
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.
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
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.
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.
Watch me dance now!
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
the future's looking bright, and you're living in the now.
I write on the lintels
of the doorpost, "Whim"
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!
You gotta get
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!
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?
I gotta go see
about a girl
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.
You can't handle
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."
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
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."
I got your back
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.
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.
I'm taking you down
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.
This is your life!
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?"
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!
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