Now that the site's back up, I can post my Important Takes, like this: the new theme song for the upcoming James Bond video game is lousy. Lana Del Rey's usual languid delivery gets overwhelmed by the bombastic orchestra. There's barely a tune, it's awkwardly phrased, & the lyrics are first draft.

Just out this morning. Tom Waits, still spitting venom. youtu.be/L-57FrioeuE?...

I keep having to hear about horrid little influencers, each one worse than the last. It goes without saying that they should all be culled, but also, what's with their names? Unwieldy monikers like Hexadecimal or Carcinogen or Trapezoidal. Are they all drawing from the same Word-A-Day Calendar?

Just went to my little town's weekly protest, and, for the first time that I've seen, there was a counterprotest. Against the 20+ of us, there were 5 people screaming their lungs out for Trump. They were all 12-year-old boys. I can't be mad about that. It's just too fitting.

Today's No Kings protest on the Worcester, MA common, from the Worcester Telegram & Gazette. To be honest, I think turnout was down compared to the first two You can see my big fat sign, but not my big fat face, which is just as well.

God, I'm in wretched shape. I didn't do much more today than stand around in the cold for an hour and a half, and still my joints are stiffer than Oscars banter.

Attempting something. Not sure it will work.

From Mad #484, in 2007.

I've been flaky lately, so I was late to my little town's weekly protest. I knocked out a quick sign - "REGIME CHANGE BEGINS AT HOME" - and straggled in halfway through. Though we're hardly a bellwether, the support we got seemed extra vigorous. I'm not seeing a rally-'round-the-flag effect from...

It's kind of heartbreaking - if only Dick Cheney had held on for a few more months, he'd have seen his wildest dreams come true.

Looking on the bright side - if he really couldn't sweat before, he's surely sweating now.

The only thing more depressing than the news is the deranged horseshit that "Christian" "patriots" are being gulled into believing is the news.

I managed to avoid that "ah patois pâté" song all last year, but now it is stuck in my head. Please send tips on head removal.

I realize that it's ghoulish to take any pleasure in the Epstein files. But in times like these, you take your pleasures where you can, and it has cheered me up no end to see Deepak Chopra get dragged through the mud. It's been said many times, but Oprah really does have a lot to answer for.

In a way, maybe it's a good thing that Neil Gaiman is back. The Epstein files could give people the impression that sexual predators are all obvious pigs. Neil serves as a useful warning that they can also be outwardly friendly, open, gracious, charming, cultured, progressive Sensitive New Age Guys.

Heard 'Mr. Sandman' at the grocery store, and realized that dame has screwy taste in men. "Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci"? Pagliacci's a tragedy! He's lonely because his wife tried to leave him, so he murdered her! "And lots of wavy hair like Liberace"? Oh honey. Oh, you poor kid.

I've been attending my town's weekly protests. It's bitterly cold, but compared to Minneapolis, it's balmy. Plenty of positive response, but I noticed a real uptick in negative response as well. Maybe it's wishful thinking on my part, but I think the MAGA crowd may realize they're on the back foot.

Higher functions shut down. Head contains only this: youtu.be/416o9b_pjQk

Sometimes I think about how successful Donald Trump has been in hiding things about himself, despite being the most over-exposed, least subtle man on the planet. Take The Apprentice. Back in 2016, there were rumors of embarrassing outtakes, where allegedly (I hope you're sitting down for this)...

Wait a minute. You mean I've been practicing drawing Gregory Bovino for nothing?

I saw at my comic shop that Archie has reprinted a 1983 issue where Jughead goes punk. I remember that story - it makes Dave Berg look hip. The true punk take on the Archie gang came earlier, in Anarchy Comics #2, in a story by master mimic and Subgenius elder Paul Mavrides. Reprint this, cowards!

I never knew my grandparents. Most of them were immigrants, who came over from Sweden as part of a wave in the 1920s. There's a story my mother used to tell about her parents that sometimes pops to my mind. You might assume that Swedes had nothing to fear, and you'd largely be right. Nonetheless...

Trump and his people don't just defy morality; they have to totally invert it.

Goddammit, I wish I could draw. I just tried making up a new protest sign, which would have been fairly complicated, and I fucked it up right away. In fact, I feel like I hastened towards the fuck-up so that I'd have an excuse not to sink a lot of time into it. Get the disappointment over with.

At the movies, seeing the Met production of The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Fuck Nazis. In whatever guise they take.

With each day that passes, I try to remind myself: this is as popular as he'll ever be. Every day, more people will come to hate him, and the ones who already hate him will hate him more. He's in terminal decline, in every sense. On some days, that provides a bit of comfort. On others, not so much.

Been visiting the comic shop more, so I took a gander at Absolute Batman, and... is this for real? Look at his tiny head! It's smaller than his fists! Are they making fun of him? He's nearing Megaton Man proportions. Tiny tiny head. Looks like a (dark, spiky) plum on top of a (dark, spiky) fridge.

During the Clinton administration, Rush Limbaugh (long may he burn) used to lead every single show the same way: "America Held Hostage, Day #___". Some big news anchor ought to do that now, from the other side. "America Under Siege". "Occupied America". "America At War With Itself."

Keir Starmer slams Trump: "I am troubled that the president has in this instance adopted a tone not entirely conducive to good-faith negotiations. I can't say it hasn't dimmed my esteem for him, and whilst I regret resorting to harsh countermeasures, I have taken him off my Christmas card list."

I have no problem with Pitchfork's reviews, but I've come to hate the scores. It seems like every time I read a review, which admittedly isn't often, it's in the 7.2 - 7.8 range, which means nothing. "If you like this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing you'll like." bsky.app/profile/popc...

Sometimes you can find delightful things by browsing YouTube. Sometimes, though, it's the opposite. This apologia for war crimes hit the Billboard Hot 100! The top half! I guess we can be thankful that there's no hit song lionizing Jonathan Ross. Though I bet someone'll write one for Jason Aldean.

To commemorate MLK Day, here's a story I just learned that took place in my town of Barre, in the earliest days of the republic, that helped put an end to slavery in all of Massachusetts. Quock Walker was born into slavery in 1753. A year later, his family was bought by one James Caldwell.

It's good to be back. (The Iron Horse Music Hall closed for the pandemic and stayed dark for years after due to the negligence of the schmuck who owned it, along with most of the other venues in town. It was wrested away from him, and reopened a year and a half ago; I haven't been back until now.)

Happy birthday to my dog Marty, who turns 3 today. He doesn't mind the snow one bit.

After Scott Adams got dumped by his syndicate in 2023, he continued Dilbert on his own, by subscription, with the promise that it would be "spicier". Look out, world! I just got curious and looked up some of those strips. They're exactly the same as I remember! And about as spicy as Wonder Bread!

I feel no sympathy for Scott Adams. He was an arrogant crackpot, and his pretentious attempts to dress up gutter racism as Vulcan rationality fooled no-one. Good riddance. I do feel a bit of a pang for what he represented. He was, perhaps, the last person to get famous for drawing a comic strip.

Going out to do a little protesting in my little town of Barre, MA. (I did try going to an event in nearby Gardner yesterday, but either it never materialized or I missed it.) I made a new sign. I didn't try to draw anything this time. I'm pretty sure I didn't steal the slogan, but I can't be sure.

Like most people, I have a vague New Year's resolution to lose weight. I had been bad but stable for a long time; now I'm rapidly getting worse. Today I visited a gym and bought a pair of sneakers, so I feel like the hard part is over and done with. Now to reward myself with pastry and cake!

The social service agency I work for just moved into a new office. Good news for us, as it's much nicer than our old building. Bad news for the social service agency that used to be here. Unlike us, they relied on federal funding, which got abruptly cut off last year. I'll give you one guess why.

I don't know how to cope anymore. I get so angry that I can't function. I sit around and seethe. I rant and rave at people in my head. I indulge in dumb fantasies of retribution for which I'm pathetically unsuited. I try to zone out and numb myself until I don't notice time passing. All unhealthy.

Thank you, internet. I needed to end the day with a good laugh. (I also went looking for a physical copy of the documentary Comic Book Confidential, and boy, it's just not my night.)

I just dropped my dinner on the floor. I blame the Trump administration. I'm only half-joking. Every day has brought fresh offenses to reason and decency, but today has been especially deranging. The US just nabbing the head of another state? That would have been too silly for a Tom Clancy novel.

I remember the 2002 coup attempt against Hugo Chavez. Before anyone knew what was happening, the Bush administration eagerly recognized Venezuela's new government. (They had not only approved the coup, they helped plan it.) Then it emerged that Chavez evaded capture and the coup was foiled. Whoops!

Only have seconds left to say this: to hell with 2025.

It seems that the decision on whether to go out tonight has been taken from me by a surprise flare-up of a chronic condition I'm too embarrassed to name. Happy friggin' New Year. You all have fun, though. Don't mind me. Here, have a festive New Year's song: youtu.be/4ANBktpgcC4

For the first time in many years, I have the opportunity to go out on New Year's Eve. And yet, the more I try to plan, the less I want to go. In part, this is because I succumb to inertia all too readily. But also: is it more depressing to stay home alone on NYE, or to go out alone?

Let nothing you dismay.

I have not much been in the Christmas spirit this season, so I've turned to music. The trouble is, my own collection is little help. I have over a thousand albums on my phone, some of which I've even listened to, but a search for Christmas yields only a paltry few songs, and those mostly unhelpful.

Have yourself a Gorey little Christmas.