Anger Sells

Even If You Didn't Mean To

Hoo-boy, it’s been busy. It’s almost like people buy a lot of stuff this time of year. My schedule has made me a bit late on this post, but that’s ok. I like to post on Sundays. But enough about the good ol’ holiday season. Let me get to this comic.

I made the above comic innocently enough. It was late (it’s always late) and I remembered something that happened to me when I worked for Sheds and Dignified. A customer (a man) wanted to speak to the manager (not a man). He kept referring to the manager as “he” and I kept saying “she”. Later, when the manager couldn’t find the man, I said it was probably because he was off looking for a fellow man and walked right past her. We all laughed. Easy comic. I made it, posted it, and (probably) went to sleep.

I first noticed something was wrong on Instagram. Comments were through the roof. It got an unusual amount of hits, which attracted the trolls, which made the hits go even higher. Misogyny oozed out of the comments like pus. The pus attracted maggots. I had to sift through the maggoty pus to delete and block people.

The tame ones were along the lines of “cry me a river!” There were confused comments from people who speak English as a second language. Then there were the people who like to emphasize their point with cursing, mostly because four letter single syllable words are easier for them to remember. There was also a long rant from a guy who called my character Shelby a whore among other exciting insights. His account was suspended by Instagram.

Facebook was surprisingly better. Only a couple of people were blocked there. Then I remembered that Instagram automatically reposts to Threads. Remember Threads? I didn’t. I was a couple of days late on that one. You can’t delete comments on Threads, maybe because they need all of the content they can get, but there were plenty blocked. The guy with the most hearts, likes, or whatever they are called on Threads went on a long rant about how this would never happen in real life. I belatedly responded to his rant that it did, indeed happen in real life. I think nine people hearted, liked or whatevered that comment.

I stopped posting on Twitter when it stopped being Twitter.

Between Facebook and Instagram, I must’ve made a hundred dollars off this comic, which in social media comic strip terms might as well be a million. Apparently all I need to do to make money is to make people mad. I knew this of course. It explains everything that passes itself off as news, but I’m shocked at how innocently I engaged in it.

My mother has the stories about equality that will make you want to vomit. This comic was just a retelling of actual events. If it angers you I will be bewildered and cash the check (metaphorically, of course).

I do remember going into an online rant on the Daily Cartoonist when Cathy Guisewite retired. If you don’t know, she is the cartoonist for the comic strip Cathy. She was hired to make that comic without knowing how to draw because she was (and is) a brilliant writer. She did draw effectively, though. My design teacher at CalArts went to some lengths to show me how well she could design and pace a strip.

When she retired, however, a fellow cartoonist, a cartoonist I otherwise admire, commented “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.” I responded with about five paragraphs. Cathy always attracted that kind of bizarre anger and always from men. I would ask my mother why that was, but she is no longer with us. I thought the anger, naive me, remained in the past.

This comic had to be rewritten. I’ve been posting my comic on Instagram and Facebook before it’s “official” posting on GoComics for one simple reason: readers can spot mistakes. In the graphic art profession we have a ton of proofreaders, but in comic strips there aren’t any. Even if your comic is appearing in newspapers, mistakes can stay in (google Wiley Miller and Trump for the worst offense, although that was more of an intentional mistake). I don’t know if you’ve heard, but newspapers stopped making serious cash a long time ago. Proofreaders are a luxury.

In this case, it wasn’t spelling. I had to have Tabby spell out that she saw the husband walk into the wrong aisle. I was too vague in the original. Thank you proofreaders!

This started a little series that has become a current favorite. Go Tabby.

I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it. Zoom meetings suck. They somehow waste more time than in person meetings. If they want you on camera, try to chew whatever you’re eating to supplement your lack of passion off screen.

I did get a cardigan from a job for the wintertime, but I really had to whine for it. You had to dig deep on the internal intranet to see that they were even offered.

This is what makes lying not worth it. It’s also how many horrible criminals are cornered. They can’t remember all of the details of the lie. You know who would make perfect criminals? Robots. When robots learn to lie, we’re doomed.

I had to make it morally motivated to skip work. I’m like this in real life. If I’m going to go out of my way to give myself an excuse, there’s usually something I don’t want to do involved.

The robots haven’t learned how to lie yet.

What was she given that made her so loopy? I don’t remember the name, but I was the driver for somebody who was prescribed a pill that made her like this. Frankly, seeing the affects drugs on a person has made me less interested in drugs. It’s kept me away from all of the wild parties, but I’ve lived with that burden.

The boss is not stupid, but he also has a fatherly disposition towards Penny. When thinking of how to end this I had to let the character guide me to it.