^{most definitely you will need to click-enlarge this picture for the text to be legible, in the event you seem that desirable.}

I am uncertain if this expresses the precise sentiment that I intend it to but surely it expresses something.

internet art sorts several steps up the social fire-escape from myself seem to try and use art-fight just to get fan-tributes to themselves that they have no intention of “revenge”ing upon and I also have a problem with that but it can’t effectively go in the same comic strip by someone who writes as many words as I do.

this might be a tad exaggerated. I worry that I ruin these sort of editorial “comic strips” sometimes by trying to have them make sense so this is fairly similar to the initial concept, but there are other ways I can also ruin them.

^{you will as typically is the case need to click at it to make it bigger for the letters to have any chance at being legible}
amitz my making of that video it became apparent that I had last year produced more of these spiteful “commentary” comic strips than pages in the real one, and that is even without this here, which I sketched in February and then considered might not be fair or valid. “influencers” are scum but since I instinctually avoid scum, I have never paid attention to one, and all my experience is from artist dorks I semi-know who may be attempting to emulate influencers without success, and consequently almost nobody knows who they are, and even fewer people see my comic strips that are criticizing the behavior, who aren’t necessarily any of the persons who have also seen the behavior. still, i saw this anew last week and it was funny to me then and so i finishedish it. people who have bitcoinery probably don’t get “imposter syndrome” but in this scenario the creature claiming to have it is an insincere creep, regardless of whether the real people I have seen doing this were. In frap, when I read stories of actual influencers, they seem even less realistic than this blatantly bootlegged dork. Possibly I am not spiteful and petty enough.

please click at it if you can’t read it at this size and also want to read it.

longer, unused script:
12-3-2021 222am
1
a did you get vaccinated?
b yes, back in may
2
a what? how could you
b (oh naw)
3
a you complain about new bad technology being forced on people and you did that WILLINGLY?
b i wanted to be protected from the disease
4
a PROTECTED? how about from what’s IN the vaccine? you don’t even know WHAT’s in there!
b it is listed on the internet, i checked before i made this comic strip
5
a and you believe em? they can say whatever they want! everybody’s in on the scheme. vaccines cause autism in children, you know. huge coverup
b well now I was diagnosed autistic and you weren’t but we both got vaccinated for measles
6
a oh p shaw they hadn’t perfected it then. think about what BILLIONAIRES paid to make sure you got that. You’re just a sheep! you’ll put anything in your body that they tell you to!
b you just said i did it willingly
7
a ha ha ah you feel good about yourself now, huh?
b only as bad as before
8
a it’s all propaganda and social engineering. (chugs budweiser)
b
////////////////////
if there is anything that these snake comic strips have going for them, it isn’t the overwhelming quantities of irrelevant dialog. It probably isn’t what got leftover either but I don’t feel as bad about screwing up as long as I do it differently each time.

most of a certainty you will not be able to read this comic strip without clicking on it to enlarge it. Do use that information to your advantage when deciding whether or not to click on it.

My mother notified me of her alarm at the swear words in this. Indeed I don’t like them but at some point amitz its production I stopped noticing the vulgarity since I find hostile emoji usage (especially with blue used to color bodily liquid sources) so much more offensive. I realized recently it has been twenty years since I first observed an association between jerks in arguments and using smile icons to show how NOT SAD they were, plus enough typed out laughter abbreviations to be mistaken for a batman villain, appropriately enough on the DC comics message board, albeit the Mad Magazine section of it. I wondered how best to commemorate that and what I did probably wasn’t it.

in order to further facilitate not-reading, clicking on the following image will do nothing:

people talk trash about facebook when they aren’t on it, but I didn’t get any condescending comments about the comic strip when I posted it there, only from someone on an embarrassing “furry” website I really should have given up on ages ago who has no business talking down to anybody. but to be fair my reach on facebook is less than if I stood outside my house holding up the computer with that image displayed on the screen until the battery emptied out.

Another of my observations is that self-identified “furries” who are also self-identified “writers” tend to write the worst things [that don’t have smiley faces and lols in them].

that doesn’t mean it’s good!

this month is, as an increasing number of businesses want to tell me, a “pride month.” Specifically with regard to whom you do or do not want to have sexual relations. But I do not know how to be proud of something that I did not have a choice about or work to achieve, particularly when the things I DID work to achieve I am also often not proud of! Even if I could manage it, experience has shown that no established group represents any of my own interests, especially as more and more of the symbols are co-opted by global corporations that are larger than many national governments. I am destined to be confused and alone! Is it possible I am proud of THAT? I hope not. But I am confused and consequently uncertain.

Contrary to what deviantart and world-class comedian Fortune Feimster suggest, my true self’s pride is not what it creates with, but what with which it distances itself from other people.
i do appreciate that the person i never heard of being shoved at me today by a corporate entity is not a fraction of my age and famous for smirking on youtube or singing shoddy songs, but I still find no fun or camaraderie in marketer-approved activities.

I used the pathetic snake in the illustration because it has and is problems closest to coinciding with my own, despite being subtly different in appearance from my self.
my “regular” characters are extremely proud of themselves but none of them know what “sex” is as far as I am aware. YOU may, naturally, be proud of whatever you want! this here is only about me. and it.

for other websites I named this piece “pride and precipice” because oh how droll it rhymes with the title of a book I never read. But I also realized that

years ago naming this painting “unimprecipe” must have made no sense. i confused “precipice,” a word for the edge of a cliff (specifically a vertical edge rather than the cartoonish, ready-to-crumble overhangs I prefer to draw but nobody knows that) with the evidently non-existent “precipe.” This is otherwise irrelevant to the present subject matter.

a few weeks earlier my mother had sent me a link to “asexuality, the ascent of the invisible sexual orientation” but which seemed to especially focus on “asexual” folk wanting to see more asexual folk on television, and I was not sure how to respond to the link-sender about it, and never did. I am not asking you to read that! I am merely issuing proof that it exists.

I appreciate my mother’s consideration, as twenty three years ago when I first knew I didn’t want to be called he him his, there was absolutely no way to bring up this topic and not encounter misery or mockery. I remember the first time I did I was asked by this person “do you want to be like TOBY?” a ridiculous ‘neuter’ person who had appeared on the Sally Jesse Raphael show, clips of which were subsequently shown and laughed at on the E channel’s Talk Soup program, which we both watched. I did not want to be like Toby. I still do not want to be like Toby.

it’s about 40 minutes, this link is just to prove it exists, I am not asking you to watch it!
Toby is boring and has a boring name, even though Toby’s stated approach to sexual matters and method of responding to people who are far too curious about it is similar to mine. Asexual is not the same as agender but they occupy the same “nobody is selling what I am buying” part of their respective spectrums. AND I don’t want anyone to sell it!

However I am not at all concerned about the more recent self-labeling asexuals’ “representation.” Any group with photogenic representatives will eventually get represented in photography, and they are certainly prettier than Toby. They will get what they want. I do not seek representation, as I do not trust anyone else to achieve it. What I want is to be believed and accepted when I describe my own condition, not have to check a box and not have to choose a flag. Maybe news of self-described asexuals would reach more neuro-normal fans of awful media, and after long enough eventually be believed by them, and make it easier to describe my own problem to them, but that would be a side-effect.

Admittedly I have in the past appreciated fictional characters that are never shown to have outwardly sexual identities, like Samus, Tintin, even dumb old Rygar. I don’t need an official seal of “by the way they’re ASEXUAL!” to appreciate that they do something important without romance screwing things up. And I would continue to prefer them if labeled asexuals started appearing in crummy tv shows, having that be their core defining trait and being exactly like every other annoying complacent smirking jeans-wearing forklogan I don’t like otherwise.
And I do like Olive Oyl, Dynamite Headdy and certain Batmans, who sometimes have their decision-making skills impaired by the appearance of romance potential, because they are able to remain interesting. Sailor Moon is perfectly capable of both fighting evil by moonlight and winning love by daylight. What I don’t like are gross, boring “sex scenes” and contrived pairings, like when a woman and man fight each other a lot and then out of nowhere start kissing, I can’t stand it.

it is the “love” as a completely embarrassing and forced plot device that I cannot tolerate. I may also experience difficulty tolerating the people who tolerate them! Even if asexuals never do this I have every confidence that terrible writers will think of other disconcertingly moronic things for them to do instead.

I can imagine the gay porn test being a quad-annual requirement for renewing your asexual license.

I don’t even like the WORD “sex” and I think “ace” sounds stupid but that isn’t necessarily the fault of anyone I am griping about today.

apparently there are rings you can buy or forge to grant yourself the magical power to not want to do sex. I should be grateful to not need one, perhaps. I suppose the idea is to identify yourself so you can be found and find others with a similar condition without having to be very ostentatious and PROUD. A little black ring is more discreet than a big dumb flag. I don’t like having constricting trinkets stuck to my skin, though. I have never even been able to wear a watch, back when people wore watches. A ring is worse since it will either be too tight or inclined to fall off and get lost, and I would want to constantly fiddle with and adjust it before then.

and now I need a flag to let everyone know I am a fiddler!

I personally liked it better in a square layout but then i had too much extra space to fill, and social media websites are lamentably kinder to vertically elongated images. i initially planned it with two additional frames that i realized were irrelevant, and then thought of a new one to add in, but that still messed with the negative space. in fact i could probably still eliminate three more to aid in clarity for anyone, probably most people, who have not had this particular problem.

I found that when i tried to invent a car suitable to the creature’s proportions i lacked the skill to make individual parts of the control mechanisms apparent as what they were intended to represent, and so used direct photograph references. the more realistic car may produce an amusing contrast relative to the blatantly fake driver, anyhow.

with the amount of words in there it had better be self explanatory. however you may need to click at it to be shown a more legible version.
The main point this sets out to prove is to myself; often complaining about things with words is less effective than using pictures of words, but and so I needed to try it like this to finally shut myself up about it! Although having said that it is generally unwise to believe anything that a snake tells you or tells me.
I suspect it may have especially missed the mark because the first, so far the only “like” this has in its favor (for I am yet paranoid enough to check) within the facebook is from one of the specific people whose confounding behavior inspired it.

a pathetic snake loses face in public

initially i put some stereotype cactus in the background but it was less funny to me if the location seemed to switch. It could transform in the same place, have different lettering and texas doors but not BE another place. The horse-like figures are a hold-over from the cactus phase but not as out of place as the cactus was and I felt no great impetus to remove them. i could have given one a shopping cart but then i think maybe it should look like a little covered wagon and that might be too distracting and that was rather late in the process anyway by which point I was already tired of changing things that did not matter, which typically means two more hours of changing things.

most of the comments on this were positive, and I am glad to get comments at all, especially since the snake ones tend to be complaining about people who comprise the little audience I have, but one did say “the snake should probably know better than to put other people at risk with such a weird and long-term illness!”
which seems to imply that I the real person who isn’t a naked neon cartoon serpent is most definitely out and about breathing diseases every which way. And this sentiment may be harbored by more people than spoke up. Which is normal, these snake comics tend to be misconstrued and this is a fairly mild case. I should move on and not worry about it but that isn’t what I do and usually there isn’t a rough implication that I possibly kill people.

I respont “fortunately the snake is fictional! it errs for my amusement. I don’t personally mess around with public masklessness, worried that someone else might think I have a problem, but I do feel silly unless I have a big hat with it.”
I understand that wearing a mask is more for the courtesy of others than actual personal protection, since you can have and be contagious with the virus before any symptoms manifest and you may in fact never get symptoms at all, and there could be CONSIDERABLY more carriers who are asymptomatic, and nobody who has been permitted to appear credible seems to know just how long you would remain contagious for or if you can get the virus a second time. I will wear the dumb mask if it aids in preserving what passes for order and doesn’t mess with my ability to function, even if people who think this whole mess is exaggerated or totally staged comprise a larger share of who I know than otherwise. I think kids who have been perfectly fine for a month should be allowed to play with other kids who also have been, attempting to forbid people from being outside at all unless they are employed or shopping is bizarre, and selectively forbidding the sale of certain items inside a store but not others, such as occurred in Michigan, is ludicrous and counterproductive since it inspires anger in people who want to be angry. If adults think their government is treating them like children they will disobey it and make a bigger problem, often like children. Without a plan to calm them down, and with a head of state who actively encourages them to not be calm, ostensibly well-meaning policies that don’t have a whole lot of potential at best can end up having none at all.

but i will wear a dumb mask!

I won’t buy one at an inflated price from a trendo brand-conscious profiteering scumbag who advocates more complacent childish behavior

and apparently I couldn’t even if I wanted to but there is no shortage of ways to pay extra to advertise what an imbecile I am.

this is something that should make no sense to normal people, but I don’t know any of those anymore. if you have no idea what this is about I have deduced that you are better off continuing to not know than this website is with my attempt at explaining it present.

of course the picture is an exaggeration; only two people have actually become dead before they delivered on what I paid them for, and it probably seems callous to put their entire lives beneath some stupid garbage that I paid $30 or less for but it was funny before I thought about it at length and that was the only time anything about my relationships with those people was pleasant so I will take it.

Conceptually, this only took about 5 seconds.
A hurried animation example that nonetheless required days to assemble.
I will probably at least fill in white behind the moving objects and add more pauses, maybe some zooming and panning so it is less confusing, but otherwise this is not designed to be “finished,” not for a long time, anyway.
Also I would greatly appreciate a vector video format similar to flash but without all the proprietary technology and “not supported on any mobile platform” rubbish since exporting something like this as a gif is a miserable process.

On other websites and the side-bar here, at least until future entries scroll the text out of existence, I identify this comic strip with the title “the grapes of asp.” I initially titled it “the grapes of rasp,” not realizing that “rasp” was not actually a snake, but merely the name of a snake-headed rulon crony in Dinoriders, and also the name of a robot I and Jerry Caro came up with in first grade that we imagined traveled around stealing chocolate brownies while saying “RASP…RASP…RASP…” Rasp as in “I have you in my rasp” instead of grasp because kids are dumb. Then (now) I remembered that “asp” was a snake, and it seemed odd that asp and rasp would be near synonyms. This is a pointless bit of trivia. There is a more poignant bit of trivia about this comic page that also concerns chocolate, but it is depressing and I will defer it to a future posting, which means I will probably never post it, which theoretically suits me, who can only survive by not being aware of things I know that bother me.

pitylance artist
This could be seen as hypocritical since I myself do not often retweet things, but I also do not encourage garbage endeavors unless I WOULD retweet them. I do not say things I do not mean unless backed into a corner, and I do not invite corners to tea. “Hey, this thing that didn’t work that I won’t even touch, you should keep doing that since it privately benefits me just a scrap.” I imagine the person or persons who instigated this comic strip have no idea that I interpreted their actions this way, but I get terrible/insulting advice from just about everybody, and I followed it for years and got nowhere. I am still nowhere but it is my own nowhere. And just since 2016 I have had four different people whose interests and goals are totally apart from my own use relationship talk toward me, up from none ever prior to then, so I must be doing somenothing right.
Anyway the point of the “snake” comics are always that the snake is a loser. Seeing it lose amuses me.

I was not sure whether to have the 5th panel being laugh sincerely, which works better, or sigh dismissively, which is more realistic. This way, however, is ambiguous, which leads to the other party uncertain if it had or had not been understood, and if not, if this topic should be tried again, and in the anxiety over the uncertainty, decide not to, which is yet more realistic.

I did have a few jubilant women of apparently similar age and appearance, unrelated to themselves or me, proclaim at me “you’re gonna be an uncle!” And first of all, if THEY know that, then I know that. Once the unit was out, I was alerted by an actual relation in the form of “you’re an uncle.” Not “your sister has given birth at last” or even “the danged thing is out,” since I knew whose it was. For whatever reason people want to present it in the form of me turning into some gendered word and permanently affixing it to the front of my name, even though had I been dead this process would have carried on unhindered. They mean it is a favor to me, surely, and there is no way to tell them I am discomforted by it without making it a bigger problem than it ought to be. Congratulating me is also upsetting, considering that I actually make things through my own effort that the same people routinely have no interest in or interest in having interest in. Things better than THIS one that you are reading, I mean!

This congratulation means as much as the Big Why supermarket congratulating me on successfully using my free Big Why card while paying for my purchases and receiving one of their weird plastic fake coins for it.

Or at&t uverse congratulating me on being found by their obnoxious automated email and its unnecessary creepy video with a robot voice saying my given legal name that I only gave it because it is legally my name, but not what I want anyone calling me if I have a choice. I bet it would call me UNCLE if it knew and could see two years into the future since undoubtedly it has ways of knowing. It would be easier and less discomforting, for me, to just be allowed to READ the instructions, but I am not allowed to argue with the robot. Human beings are thus going to have to deal with me.

I have probably said so before, but maybe not, since I have not convinced myself I am entitled to harbor the feeling, and in any event this can be taken as my official declaration: I do not consider myself, I am not emotionally comfortable with the idea of me being a “man.” I am a gender-indecisive being. I was born as one thing and did not like it, but I did not want to be the “opposite” either.

It would not be convincing and would require bizarre over-compensatory effort, that would likely result in some people unenthusiastically humoring my effort while others would simply be cruel.

Birdo isn’t even real, and lacks descriptive biology entirely, and still nobody accepts its choice. What chance would I have? Having a perpetually OH NO shaped mouth is fine, but don’t you dare pretend you never had a phallus that you never had.

My body barely works as it is; I do not want to mess with it and risk screwing up and having constant pain roundabout something I would prefer to pretend was not there at all. Though I feel like staying what I started as is lying to myself, trying to be the other would be lying to everyone else. I just want it not to matter. But oh how it insists on mattering.

Male is a statement that makes me uncomfortable. Female is a statement that would make others uncomfortable.

Ordinarily, I can privately not-acknowledge it, and keep me from making it anyone else’s hassle. This week’s matter forces that out and has presented some difficulty. I realize that my problem is not the primary concern of the pregnancy, but it is a concern I will have to deal with alone and without talking through entirely, since none of the exacerbators see it as anything but imaginary, unsatisfiable attention-grabbing. And I start to believe it IS because I always watch for that stuff in others, and am inclined to doubt myself. And thus I hate myself for a feeling that nonetheless occurs, and then hate myself for that.
But my sister Salgorpsponce is fine. The fluid and the tubes are out. There are middle-aged women waiting in line to empathize with her. I can imagine feeling worn out by all the attention. Raising a child is never easy or worry-free, but there is precedent for it. S does not need this website entry to be about that. I am therefore free to talk about my own weird issue.

Of the three siblings, I have been perhaps closest to this one. I knew the two brothers longer, but they became more distant, as they went and lived with/off others, developing disparate extreme political viewpoints, at one point refusing to speak to one another despite both independently concluding that a majority of international heads of state and subordinates should be brought before firing squads (and shot at). They are both comfortable calling themselves and me uncle. They do not know me well enough to have any idea that would irk me. Or perhaps they did but thought I would “get over it.” I am not an over-getter of it. Usually I get around things or go off in another direction. I can survive on private denial, if I may be left to it.
Should I show this to them? I would hate for anyone to read this entry FIRST. I almost hate for anyone to read this at all.

It is one thing to be called by a name. A name is usually more abstract than a word. It may be a man’s name, commonly, but I do not know men with the name. I will not call myself by the name, and will officially change it as soon as I become decisive enough for that, but I became accustomed to hearing it before I developed this specific gendereal issue, so said aloud by someone else (whom I have met already and who is not a condescending robot), it is mostly just a noise by this point. As long as I do not have to say it myself, I can live with it. “Uncle,” however, is very specific, gender-wise. It is like “mister” but more likely to occur outside of scumbagly “business” situations where I can hate the using party for additional reasons, such as including my middle initial, sending me credit card offers or requiring me to use a password that I cannot possibly remember, locking me out of my own account and then acting like that is done as a favor to me, and I ought to be grateful. People who were comfortable calling me an abstract name my whole life want now to put some man title in front of it. And people who only just met me want to do it also. People who barely know me are introducing me with man words to people I have never met at all.

And yet “uncle” is non-specific outside of the gender respect. Rather than a specific person, it is a man out of many men. One of the earlier people I spoke of wanted to use the vague man word in substitution of my name entirely. We do not have a gender-vague word for a parent’s sibling that does not sound like it came from a naive wishy-washy internet forum, because they do, and me insisting on one’s use would be just as dismissable to the people I am having difficulty with as asking for no word. I found advocacy of “pibling,” ostensibly a contraction of “parent’s sibling,” sounds like a little rainbow colored candy that tastes like Mr. Pibb soda. I certainly do not want anybody calling me Mr. Pibling. I might as well try and have people call me skittle or nerd, and I will at least deserve one of them.

It would be the same if we invented our own word, but I would rather have no word.

I know once the baby is in the house there will be other issues, and I will not be at risk of the baby calling me the word for some time, and by that point outside parties should be less excited about tossing it in where it does not belong, and I can ask the one person who matters to not call me that. And then I reckon I have until the age of 7 or so before the child realizes I am a complete loser who needs accommodations at every stage to keep from crumbling into a weeping heap, and starts using the word deliberately to annoy me. I was terrible to my own mother’s weird brother, but he fortunately never had an issue with the binary tree. Or if he did, it did not keep him from functioning.

The creators were able to procreate because they accepted what they were and acted on mutually functional biological impulses. What are my impulses? I have an impulse to create imps but it is not biological, hopefully.

I have been asked: “how’s it feel to be an uncle?” It does not feel like anything! Should it? I am worried at worst and indifferent at best. I suspect the asker did not really care about my answer, and thought it would be interpreted as an upgraded form of “how are you?,” the base level question askers do not want answers to. For them to fulfill a request to stop would be a challenge, since it seems to occur as a thoughtless reflex, just as my negative reaction does, though I am fated to dwell on my reflex afterward.
Clearly I am more affected by adults trying to re-frame my life in the context of this other person’s baby than anything the actual baby did in less than a week. I will admit that I find this baby less ugly than the “adorable” babies I am exposed to in trash media, but this one is usually asleep, with mouth shut and nothing leaking out. This baby would not be in a gross-out cartoon (id est: ANY cartoon) or used to sell products. I am glad to know someone with integrity.

‘Crotch-chops’ and ‘why’ do not mix.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why is it the mopey things that get stuck up here for longer than a week?