“Don’t you think it’s funny, when your eggs are runny?
Did you ever wonder why, the Sun is in the sky?
And did you ever stop to think, a horse will drink when it wants to drink?
And why should someone force an equine fella to imbibe?
I wonder if a horse likes eggs? It probably would if it tried.
But if you lead a horse to breakfast, just what would transpire?
I certainly don’t know, but let’s get on with the show, ’cause I’d never want to be the one to make things slow.”
– From the book of the unproduced off-Broadway musical, “Thirsty Horses and Other Human Horseplay.”
Aside from everything else, the immutable fact that everything that is happening on Earth is all happening at the same time should make it clear that our perceptions of ‘reality’ are flawed at best.
If you add in the factor of time, it also means that everything that ever was or, with a handful of exceptions (I’m talkin’ to you spacefarers) is now, has taken place within the confines of humanities dear old cradle and home.
Big problem as well, it doesn’t take a regiment of telescopes to figure out that Eartharoni is quite distinct from just about anywhere else we can observe in this ol’ universe. An existential anomaly, I have described it.
That being stated, the only thing any thinking person can be sure of is that their perspective is way too unique to be extremely sure of.
Still, ‘the Sun comes up in the East every morning,’ and so on and so on. So there are certainly some shared aspects of what we think of as reality that are pretty reliable touchstones.
But just in case, maybe we should all wear a little humility on our collective sleeves.
Qwertyesk is going to be the now keyboard fashion of 1896!
Not so fast, bellowed Dvorak. I will come along to be a perennial better but coming in second alternative input method.
Andy donut forget meme! I Amy auto correct, and I will improve your work immeasurably Joseph tango metropolitan!
Wiatt, wiatt, thesis is gong nowhere!
Is the this best you’ve goat?
Buoy, yore old wet.
Yump. Thatps the sticket!
And here’s the payoof minimaler is right between these brackets > <
Fangs ofr stropping bye.
Whenever I think of ol’ Crogg, I can’t help but remember the time when he head butted the Rhinocidon and came out standing.
That dude Crogg had a hard head.
Yep. A hard head.
That’s, that’s it really. Nothing funny about it or anything. You know,
Just a regular guy with a caveman name and a truly rugged noggin’. That’s all.
And a collision with a Rhinocidon. There’s that part too.
But that’s it.
Nothing funny about a likely caveman with a head so hard it would give a mighty Rhinocidon a serious head ache.
Maybe even a concussion.
So yeah. Maybe there’s a kernel of something bouyant, barely registering, if by some possibility at all.
But pretty weak tea, honestly.
Barely any flavor whatsoever.
No lemon or anything either.
Just, like almost just like plain water.
But maybe a little hot, because you know, tea. Hunh? Hot tea. Right?
What a cut up.
I mean seriously.
500 to 700 years ago, the entire media exposure for the common person in the western world consisted of the Bible.
Mathematically, you might define that exposure to at most, 1/7th of the waking week.
Of course the primacy of the Church and the lack of any other media made the Bible loom very large in the life of a person living in that time, but the point remains that the temporal (real) world took up most of a being’s sensory input.
Today, people spend more and more time in front of a screen. It’s probably not an exaggeration to say that mediated time spent awake may approach 1/2 or even more of a person’s week.
And, the emergence of Virtual Reality, still in its’ infancy, may increase that fraction even higher.
Ultimately, the concept of ‘the Convergence,’ where technology (read media) and biological life become indistinguishable from one another, may even come to pass.
At that point, maybe it will only be during ‘bathroom breaks’ that biological citizens experience the world unmediated.
What will it all mean for the future of Humankind?
That question is almost entirely unanswerable. But it’s one worth pondering.
The older I get, the less I seem to know.
I assume there was an opposite progression when I was but a lad, but I don’t recall anything all that clearly from those early years.
Now I just content myself with dusting my tumbleweed collection and drying out my collection of water droplets from around the world.
I’d like to see Mars someday… Well, actually I’d settle for a Mars bar.
I hear they’re pretty tasty.
If there’s really such a thing as the ultimate truth, mustn’t there also be an ultimate lie?
I guess in golf, the ultimate lie is getting the ball in the cup from you initial drive.
I’ve been told my mind wanders, but the damned thing always seems to find its way home.
I guess that’s all I’ve got to say for now. I’d be too hard to understand until I catch the cat and get my tongue back.
“What would it take to get you into this exciting, new 2017 Weak Comic A Day?” oozed the slimy salesman as I entered his virtual showroom.
“Oh, I don’t know, just a bit of hilarity perhaps, or a bit of ground-breaking visual style…” I replied.
I could see the scheming gleam in his eye flicker, then begin to grow dim.
“Well, uh,” he stammered, “Fine Corinthian Leather!”
He know he had already lost the sale, but I was going in for the kill.
“Maybe a touch of clever word-play, or even some sense of what has become passe, and then avoiding it.” I continued.
“Ouch,” he protested, “Now you’re really going for the burn. We aren’t that bad.”
“Well,” I reasoned, “The term ‘Weak Comic’ is right there in your URL.”
He nodded, “Yes, but that is meant to un-ironically ironic.”
“You have a point,” I had to agree, “But it doesn’t save the day.”
He looked dour, then pointed an accusing finger. “Well, you aren’t really giving us a chance, are you?”
“I thought back, way back, back to that time the publisher of Weak Comic A Day mocked me for asking him if he was going to finish that cookie he was carrying. It was clear that he no intention of eating the baked delicacy, and that it’s fate was at the bottom of a trash receptacle, but my impoverished appearance triggered clear disdain, and I know that cookie was not to be mine.”
“Excuse me,” said the Salesman, “Did you just mean to say that out loud?”
Chagrined, I admitted I had not.
“OK, well, that was confusing, but it seems pretty clear you came here with an agenda, so I’ll just have to say ‘Good day, sir, and ask you leave.”
I tipped my cap and made my way to the street.
“Best of luck, suckers,” I murmured to myself as I strode briskly onward, “you’ll need it with that lineup of poorly drawn saps as protagonists.”
The essence of progress is change, I suppose.
No, not the kind of chingly-changly collection of coins in your pocket…. I mean the essential deviation from a less improved state to a more refined, and more beneficial existance.
But that’s not always the case with the passage of time, even though our cultural pollyannas constantly expound as such, perhaps more to convince themselves as opposed to the lowly proletariat who must find some way to survive the dsytopian reality of the gilded class’ deceptive promise of the imminent arrival of some sort of utopian promised land — a destination that the toiling underclass somehow never arrives at.
Like the fictional one-happy-family Potemkin confederation of Panam in the bestselling book “The Hunger Games,” the stark reality of too many social engineer’s dreams of perfecting society ends up being a facade of cultural unity, when in fact, a privileged few enjoy the fruits of a subjugated, unfree population’s labors.
These situations may not end well for the users, but it’s easy to forget that those being used suffer consequences equally ugly, if not more so, when the wages of tyranny are put to pay.
Such is life, it might be said, but breaking the shackles of servitude may lead to better things, yet may still fall short of the kind of progress that means a better life and a hopeful future for the children of the formerly oppressed…. Righting wrongs so often leads to less or more devastating loss rather than winners or losers.
And what of our own Mecharavan? Just what apocalyptic unraveling led to this barren orb, orbiting sullenly beneath a tired, seen-too-much sun. And who are these two mechanical adversaries, the sole survivors of whatever struggle for dominance or simple survival led to this desolate place? Did their forbears think they were moving towards ‘progress?’ How wrong it seems they were.
And where will our two heroes’ (or two antiheroes, or maybe one of each, but which is which, or well, whatever) battle or quest or wherever or whatever this epic end-of-time epic paths lead? Read on, if you dare, and find out as the story, er, progresses!
Welcome to the all-new Weak Comic a Day website!
We’ve been calling it “Mech Comic a Day.” You see, we recently checked our SEO charts, and found out that robots enjoy reading our comics. They are also the most avid commentators. So, we decided to appeal to them with this new redesign.
The colors have been scientifically tested to appeal to robots. We’ve heard that “doom and gloom” is kind of their “thing.” And we hope that it’s your thing too, since we’re keeping this for a while. Oh, and if you have any complaints, please tell us. This new version of the website is still in beta!
Anyway, there’s some other features we’d like to address. By 2014, Weak Comic a Day will be presented in full Binary. This is a more productive way for robots to read our strips and process data. And, by the end of this month, Weak Comic a Day will be the first virtual stop to motor oil. When a visitor is detected, their computer will spill the oil into the viewer’s room through a valve, attempting to aim at the face.
Oh yeah, we forgot to mention that we’re trying to phase out the “human” demographic. I don’t know, they’re just not trustworthy. As a glorious robot, you know this. Please stick with us through this upgrade and tell us what you think!