Strip uploaded on Thursday, March 30th, 2006 (3391 days ago)

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Darkwing Grogfeld

Darkwing Grogfeld

Musings on the immediate future

SPRING TIME IS UPON US, LOWLY FLEA-PEOPLE! This means much joy. Nice days, bicycle travel, and soon an end to the semester. I don't hate school, but it powerfully exemplifies one of the great flaws of society... Standardization. Now, I have it pretty easy, going to an art school, but even here, the looming colossal cookie cutter threatens to trim my edges. I applied to school with a major in mind, having already done three years of college and four years in the torture chamber of bill paying and office jobs. I would not be applying to any school unless I knew WHY THE FUCK I WAS DOING IT.

This doesn't apply to everyone, natch. I won't sit here and complain about standardization, while assuming that every one is doing things my way. To be that ego-centric, I'd need a talk radio spot, not a blog/comic/digital-masturbatory-dump-spot.

What frustrates me is that I've spent this first year in college in a bunch of classes that don't have anything to do with what I went there for, because they are part of 'Foundation Year', where people explore their inner artist and find out what kind of creative food it eats. My inner artist was cornered, beaten into gibbering cowardice, and force fed comics paired by ejaculation drugs. I am fully conditioned already. Self conditioned. I know what I'm trying to do with all the certainty of God watching the Earth, knowing that mankind is a bunch of self-important insulation-challenged apes who invented Him so they could plug that hollow place in their brains that couldn't figure out the meaning of 'insignificance'.

Breath.

So exposing me to other media when my eyes are so focused on the prize that I'm cross-eyed, while interesting, has been a costly distraction. It has cost my regimented schedule, my pride, my money, and my peace of mind. I'm too busy a person to spend all this time on a distraction. Someone should tell my television that.

Sigh.

I don't think Rummy actually drinks absinthe from the ass-cracks of rape-babies. At least, not until after he's strangled them.

I'm filled with crappy anger.

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