The Most Important Moment in History (1 of 2)
July 8th, 2010

The Most Important Moment in History (1 of 2)

The new face of Chronil­log­i­cal! More effects! More danger! More Gordon! Man, I like Gordon. Like, a lot. And now he’s dead. (Oh but he is not dead in the future, before he trav­eled back to the present, do you see?!?) (Why, why do I say such inane things)

Anyway, it looks like Donly and crew have things rel­a­tively under con­trol. What’s Roy’s take on this busi­ness? Stay tuned and find out in the thrilling conclusion.


Tempus Fugit

The process by which John and I pro­duce a new comic is twisted and tor­tur­ous, not entirely unlike the dark rit­u­als one might use to summon a bale­ful demon to this earthly plane. It’s not uncom­mon for both of us to come away from our Skype chats feel­ing drained of vigor and full of bile. One unlucky lis­tener once char­ac­ter­ized our con­ver­sa­tions as “con­tentious and blunt”, a charge we seem to have taken to heart over the years of our collaboration.

Inspired by other, greater indi­vid­u­als than our­selves, John and I have been con­sid­er­ing for sev­eral months now how to best inflict our cre­ative process upon you, dear read­ers. I think we’ve finally come up with something.

And so, with the hope that I’ve dis­suaded at least a few of you from lis­ten­ing, I present to you the very first episode of Tempus Fugit, the Chronil­log­i­cal Podcast!

The title of this episode is Scatil­log­i­cal, for rea­sons that will become dis­tress­ingly clear should you choose to listen to it.

Although we are billing this as a “pod­cast”, we can’t really promise these on any­thing like a reg­u­lar basis. To be honest, it’s not entirely clear that we’ll be doing another one of these. The main dif­fi­culty in pro­duc­ing these things, we’ve dis­cov­ered, is the sheer, mind-​numbing drudgery—the drudgery of sift­ing through buck­et­fuls of old mate­r­ial to extract those few meager flakes of gold.

Also, the eerie horror of lis­ten­ing to a record­ing of your own voice saying vile, appalling things—things that clearly would never have passed your lips in a sane state. Mustn’t forget about the eerie horror.

Finally, a few notes of prepa­ra­tion, expla­na­tion, and clarification:

  1. The intro/outro music is a track called Just What I Always Wanted by Mizuk­isLastChance, from the ever-​awesome chip­tune repos­i­tory, 8 Bit Collective.
  2. John and I have potty-​mouths. If you don’t like potty in your mouth, then we def­i­nitely rec­om­mend you give this MP3 a pass. Con­sider your­self warned.
  3. Early in the pod­cast, we start talk­ing about the film Metrop­o­lis. If you’re con­fused why we abruptly start talk­ing about “the medi­a­tor between the head and hands” and robot sluts, it’s because we’re ref­er­enc­ing to this movie. I just want to clar­ify that I do not gen­er­ally bring up robot sluts in con­ver­sa­tion as a matter of course.
  4. You will hear the name David Schultz; he is a mutual friend of ours. Fun fact: he was the inspi­ra­tion for the design of Pro­fes­sor Malloc!
  5. We spend a lot of time dis­cussing “pavil­ions”. Specif­i­cally, we are refer­ring to pavil­ions as imple­mented at EPCOT Center in Walt Disney World. If you have no idea what that pre­vi­ous sen­tence meant, then I hon­estly have no idea what you will make of this record­ing. Good luck.

Alright, there’s clearly been too much ado here, and I need to wrap things up. Shoo, ado! Shoo!

Here, while I’m fin­ish­ing up with the ado, take the pod­cast and enjoy.

Tempus Fugit, Episode 1: Scatillogical

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Mini Status Update

Not a whole lot to say here, but I wanted to give our read­ers a notice that we’re not dead! John is work­ing on col­or­ing the new strip, and I’ve been fid­dling around a bit with the new releases of Word­press and ComicPress.

(Aside: I’m actu­ally grow­ing kind of annoyed with Word­press. It’s not bad soft­ware con­sid­er­ing it’s built in PHP—but that’s like saying that kick­ing a child in the face isn’t too bad, because you aren’t kick­ing 10 chil­dren in the face. Or… some­thing. Look, what I’m trying to say is that using PHP is a lot like kick­ing chil­dren in the face.1

Anyway, I’m get­ting annoyed with Word­press + Comic­press because it does a lot of stuff that we don’t want/use, and doesn’t do every­thing we would like it to. I’ve been con­sid­er­ing build­ing a comic pub­lish­ing plat­form in Ruby on Rails for a while now; maybe one of these days I’ll actu­ally get around to doing so.)

The upshot of all of this is: the rest of this week will prob­a­bly be sort of boring for you, with only maybe a blog entry to hold you over. But between John and me, we should be able to deliver some­thing inter­est next week! It should be excit­ing! So get pre­pared!

  1. Not that I know this from first-​hand expe­ri­ence.

Progress Report

Hey gang! John here. Thanks for stick­ing around while I finish up the next comic. You know, it’s coming along! And to prove this, I will post an official-​brand Teaser Comic, cob­bled together using these unfin­ished, non-​contiguous panels.

What what!

Click to large-​make

Final dia­logue may or may not revolve around Pokémon.


Best Worst Movie

In 1989, in a small town in rural Utah, an Ital­ian film com­pany shot a horror film that would even­tu­ally be released under the title Troll 2—I say “even­tu­ally”, because the film was orig­i­nally titled Gob­lins. This ini­tial title made a lot of sense, because the film is in fact about a town full of gob­lins that ter­ror­ize and attempt to devour a vaca­tion­ing middle-​class Amer­i­can family. Hence: Gob­lins. Troll 2 makes com­par­a­tively little sense as a title, largely due to the rather con­spic­u­ous fact that the film does not, in actu­al­ity, fea­ture any trolls what­so­ever.1 And need­less to say, it is not an actual sequel to the orig­i­nal Troll in any mean­ing­ful way.

From even just this scant infor­ma­tion I’ve imparted to you, you should be able to get a good sense of the kind of film Troll 2 is.

But I’m get­ting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to 1989, with the Ital­ians out in Utah film­ing a low-​budget horror movie (with a cor­re­spond­ingly low-​budget cast). And so the thing gets shot, every­one parts ways, the Ital­ians fly back home, a movie gets cut together. Some­where along the way the name changes from Gob­lins to Troll 2. It gets released to VHS. The story of a thou­sand low-​budget flicks, right?

Well, not quite.

By way of expla­na­tion, let me show you a chart. It is rea­son­ably simple chart, plot­ting how good a movie is2 versus how enter­tain­ing it is.

This is what the site would look like if I were in charge of drawing the comic.

As you can see on the right side of the graph, high-​quality films pos­i­tively cor­re­late to highly enter­tain­ing films. Pulp Fic­tion is fun to watch because it is by most rea­son­able mea­sures a fan­tas­tic film. The Fifth Ele­ment: also very good.

Moving left, the films get a bit worse, and are cor­re­spond­ingly less fun to watch. Die Hard 2? Okay, but not great. Most movies fall into this category.

A bit fur­ther down the curve, there’s an inter­est­ing bump. By most objec­tive mea­sures, Armaged­don was a pretty bad film. But much like Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing”, there is also some­thing unde­ni­ably great about it. We are firmly in the realm of guilty plea­sures. On an absolute scale, it’s still nowhere as enter­tain­ing as Pulp Fic­tion; but it is more enter­tain­ing than Over the Hedge, even though the latter is in some sense less of an Affront to the Art of Cinema.3

At some point, though, enough is enough. Case in point: most ratio­nal people simply cannot derive 80 min­utes of enjoy­ment from Look Who’s Talk­ing Too.

So far, I have been using Bruce Willis films as exam­ples. But the inclu­sion of Bruce Willis (if even just as a voice actor) adds some base­line level of qual­ity to a film. This base­line I call the Willis thresh­old; there are many, many films that fall below it.

Occu­py­ing the realm far to the left of the Willis thresh­old are movies like Manos: the Hands of Fate: unre­deemably bad films, the sort you hes­i­tate to call “films” in the first place, nearly-​unwatchable dreck made only barely palat­able by the inclu­sion of mock­ing com­men­tary a la MST3K.

But the most strik­ing part of my chart is the mas­sive spike just to the left of the Willis thresh­old. This is the cat­e­gory of film that I’m most inter­ested in for this post, and it is the cat­e­gory of film that Troll 2 squarely falls into.

Look at that chart! On an absolute level, Troll 2 is com­pa­ra­ble to The Fifth Ele­ment in terms of enter­tain­ment value! It is So Bad It’s Good. I.e., it’s awe­somely bad.

For this sort of film, it’s kind of point­less trying to con­vince some­one of its awe­some­ness by describ­ing the plot. I could tell you that it’s about a family that gets ter­ror­ized by a group of veg­e­tar­ian gob­lins; or that the gob­lins are com­manded by a spas­tic druid; or that the gob­lins keep trying to turn people into plants by hiding con­spic­u­ous green slop in their food; etc., etc., etc. I could try and tell you all these things, but they don’t really convey the genius4 of Troll 2.

Which is all to say: if you haven’t seen it yet, what the hell are you wait­ing for?

I saw Troll 2 for the first time two weeks ago. I had occa­sion to see it because a doc­u­men­tary called Best Worst Film—about Troll 2 and its cult fol­low­ing—was play­ing just around the block from me. The film­mak­ers were per­spi­ca­ciously screen­ing Troll 2 later that night in the very same the­ater, and after catch­ing the doc­u­men­tary I con­vinced my friend Cliff to join me at mid­night to see the cult hit.

I’ve told you about how great Troll 2 is, but I also want to spend some words on Best Worst Movie. It was a lot of fun to watch, and def­i­nitely enter­tain­ing.5 It focuses pri­mar­ily on the charis­matic George Hardy, who played the patri­arch of the ill-​fated vaca­tion­ing family in Troll 2.6 We catch up with him and other former cast and crew mem­bers, dis­cov­er­ing how their film has mor­phed into a cult phe­nom­e­non and how this trans­for­ma­tion has affected their lives. The whole doc­u­men­tary is pretty light­hearted and fun, and it’s really hard to dis­like Mr. George Hardy.

Most every­one seems to be in on the joke—that is, they fully rec­og­nize and have gen­er­ally come to terms with Troll 2’s posi­tion on the curve I charted above. But this isn’t the case for every­one. There are a few awk­ward moments involv­ing the direc­tor (an Ital­ian, type­cast as the eccen­tric for­eign film­maker), who seems unwill­ing to see his film for what it is. Hon­estly, he comes off as a bit of a stooge—a por­trayal that’s prob­a­bly unfair but is admit­tedly amusing.

Let me empha­size that the doc­u­men­tary is, essen­tially, fluffy fun. It does a great job at cap­tur­ing the verve and elec­tric­ity you feel at a mid­night movie screen­ing. At heart, it’s a poppy expres­sion of fan­boy­ish enthusiasm.

The doc­u­men­tary has are a few more poignant moments, but they really aren’t the focus; they tend to get swept up in the rest of the film. It’s a bit of a shame, really, because at times it feels as though a very human under­cur­rent of sad­ness or regret gets steam­rolled by the ironic joy of this cult phe­nom­e­non. For exam­ple, in one par­tic­u­larly moving scene, the actor who played Grandpa Seth in Troll 2 (now an old man) reflects resignedly upon on his life and asks: “What is there to do with a life besides frit­ter it away?” It’s a rather shock­ing rev­e­la­tion, but it gets swept aside pretty quickly.

Then again, I can under­stand why the film­mak­ers didn’t focus on this stuff more: it’s a total downer. Still, the film prob­a­bly would have felt more robust if these issues had been exam­ined more deeply.

If Best Worst Movie is show­ing near you any­time soon, I’d heartily rec­om­mend you go out and see it with a friend or two. And if they’re show­ing Troll 2 later that same day, I’d highly rec­om­mend you make an evening of it.

  1. I guess you could argue that trolls and gob­lins are kinda-​sorta the same thing. They’re magical-​ish things, with leath­ery skin and ugly faces. Nasty and brutish and gen­er­ally unpleas­ant for human-​folk to be around. But let me be clear: the crea­tures in the film are referred to exclu­sively as “gob­lins”; the word “troll” is never once uttered.
  2. I.e., based on the mea­sures we nor­mally use in cri­tique: Is each con­stituent ele­ment of the film—the acting, writ­ing, cin­e­matog­ra­phy, etc.—exe­cuted com­pe­tently? Do these com­po­nents work well together? Ulti­mately, does the film suc­ceed at what it sets out to accom­plish?
  3. I hope my use of Cap­i­tal Let­ters makes it clear that I am being Very Seri­ous about Very Impor­tant Issues here.
  4. Anti-​genius?
  5. In a good way: it falls squarely on the right side of my curve.
  6. Tidbit of cool­ness: George Hardy was tour­ing with the Best Worst Movie the­atri­cal run, and intro­duced the Troll 2 show­ing that me and Cliff were at!

The Deal

Part I: Apologies

1. Sorry this post is up a little later than I’d hoped. I wanted to talk with John before putting it up, and the ear­li­est time we could talk was Sunday evening. Thus, the Monday post.

2. Sorry for the abrupt­ness of the ending of the Troy storyline.

Part II: An Explanation

For those of you who have pay reg­u­lar atten­tion to this blog­space, you may recall a post from March in which I dis­cussed our plan for Chronillogical’s nar­ra­tive moving for­ward. One of the com­po­nents of this plan was to wrap up the Troy sto­ry­line more quickly than pre­vi­ously intended. Per­haps our inten­tions were under­stated, and the extent of our stream­lin­ing caught people by sur­prise. But the essen­tial logic behind our task was simply this: we wanted to get on with telling other time travel sto­ries, so we cut away every­thing we felt was extra­ne­ous to the gang return­ing to the present.

That said, we’re not going to leave all these ques­tions dan­gling. More on that in just a moment.

Part III: Moving Forward

We’re plan­ning to focus now on making larger, more self-​contained updates on a less fre­quent basis. These larger updates will vary in size and com­plex­ity, and as such I don’t think we’re going to be able to commit to a reg­u­lar update sched­ule for them.1

With a slower and more erratic update sched­ule, John and I feel oblig­ated to fill the inter­ven­ing peri­ods with some kind of con­tent to keep you engaged. We have a few ideas already: the one most press­ingly rel­e­vant is our plan to do “mini-comics” in the gray-​scale style of our pre­vi­ous filler strips. The first batch of mini-​comics is going to focus on resolv­ing some of those lin­ger­ing issues from the Troy storyline’s con­clu­sion. Per­haps you could think of it as a kind of extended epi­logue? For exam­ple, we will be taking a look at how Cas­san­dra is adjust­ing to life in the 21st century.

We don’t have a plan as to the update sched­ule for the mini-​comics. One thought is to stick with the Tuesday-​Friday thing. We may simply try to do two a week and leave the exact days unspec­i­fied and vary­ing. We’re not sure now, but we’ll keep you posted.

We have some other con­tent ideas up our sleeves, but we’ll wait a bit before we promise any­thing on that front.

Part IV: Conclusion

That’s it! If you have any ques­tions or con­cerns about the stuff I’ve men­tioned in this post (or else­where), ask away; feed­back is always appre­ci­ated :-)

  1. I highly encour­age you to make use of our RSS feed if you do not already.

A Post about Dr. Evermor’s Forevertron

Dr. Evermor’s Fore­vertron1 is a sculp­ture park in Bara­boo, WI, about an hour’s drive from Madi­son. It is a place we went to and boy we are sure glad we did!

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John and I drove up to the Fore­vertron from Chicago back when I was still living in the Mid­west, some­time in Sep­tem­ber 2009. We took a bunch of pic­tures during our visit and have been mean­ing to write a post about the place ever since, but for one reason or another we’ve never quite gotten around to it. So, now that I’ve for­got­ten pretty much every­thing about our visit, I’ve finally decided to com­plete our little write-​up.

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See that? That’s me! I was the driver for the day, since I was the only guy with access to a car. John sat in the front, replete with all sorts of gear (binder, pen, etc.) for Get­ting Work Done. This was going to be a Pro­duc­tive Jour­ney for him, since he had a good 3–4 hours of pris­tine free time each way.

He then promptly fell asleep, having stayed up the pre­vi­ous night so he could finish a Chronil­log­i­cal comic on time. Good work, John!

On the way up, we stopped for lunch at Culver’s.2 John tried his very first taste of Culver’s frozen cus­tard and was largely unim­pressed. What a buz­zkill, that guy!

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As we approached the gallery, I told John to keep a look­out for the proper turn-​off. John, for his part, saw sev­eral large metal sculp­tures all along the side of the road, right in the vicin­ity of where we were expect­ing the Fore­vertron to be. I didn’t see them myself, mostly because my atten­tion was focused on pre­vent­ing our Honda Odyssey from flying off the road and explod­ing into a flam­ing mass of twisted plas­tic and steel.

Inter­est­ingly, John utterly failed to men­tion these sculp­tures he saw—the sculp­tures along the side of the road that he saw right where we expected the sculp­ture park to be—the sculp­ture park that we were specif­i­cally look­ing for, out in the middle of rural Wis­con­sin. He failed to men­tion these sculp­tures, and instead we ended up wan­der­ing aim­lessly and self-​consciously around a small res­i­den­tial area for 10 or 20 min­utes. We finally found the Fore­vertron, tucked behind a scrap and sal­vage shop.

John even­tu­ally told me that he saw the sculp­tures when we were dri­ving along, and that he failed to bring them to my atten­tion. When I asked him “Why? Why did you do such a thing?” his only defense was that he had just assumed that elab­o­rate scrap-​metal sculp­tures were a big thing up in this neck of the woods.

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As I men­tioned, the sculp­ture park was tucked away behind a scrap sur­plus store. After wan­der­ing around for a few min­utes, we saw a mass of metal jut­ting up from behind a group of trees in the dis­tance. It was an aus­pi­cious sight, Indi­ana Jones-​esque. We had stum­bled across the park.

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As you might expect from a sculp­ture park, there were delight­ful sculp­tures strewn all about. Really, I can’t do it jus­tice with just words. In fact, I think this was the main reason both John and I dragged our heels so long on writ­ing this post: too intim­i­dat­ing a task to try and describe the place with mere prose. So instead, I highly rec­om­mend you check out the Flickr pho­to­set I made with all the pic­tures we took.

Below is a small sam­pling of the pic­tures we took, just to give you a taste of what was in the park.

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And the end of the visit, we ran into Dr. Evermor’s wife. She was extremely kind and told us all about the park; I don’t remem­ber the details very well, but I dis­tinctly recall her speak­ing about the unex­ploded ord­nance they have to deal with around the site of the park. Some­thing about a live cannonball.

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And so, with a sigh, we hit the road once more. The drive back was very much like the drive up, and we lis­tened to Radi­o­lab most of the way.

And upon arriv­ing home, John and I agreed that one of these days we’d need to return to Dr. Evermor’s Fore­vertron.

  1. Google is a bit schiz­o­phrenic on the matter, but it’s spelled “Evermor” and not “Evermore”.
  2. Culver’s is a pretty deli­cious fast-​food chain that’s based mostly in the upper Mid­west. They’re known mostly for their Butter Burg­ers and frozen cus­tard. Need­less to say, the place is not so great on your arter­ies.

It’s a Date!

Mark your cal­en­dars: Chronil­log­i­cal is return­ing on April 13th!


Back in Business

Hello!

If you stretch your memory waaaaay back, you might remem­ber there exist­ing once upon a time a silly little comic called Chronil­log­i­cal. Depend­ing on how strong your memory is, and specif­i­cally whether or not your brain is the sort of brain that inter­mit­tently cleans house, dust­ing away those mnemonic motes that cease­lessly and sub­con­sciously accrue: pass­ing thoughts of pass­ing people, of places, of things—per­haps that fellow you spent all night talk­ing to at last year’s New Year’s Eve party, or that strik­ing woman who sat next to you on the bus on an oth­er­wise dismal Novem­ber day, or any of the other count­less indi­vid­u­als that chaot­i­cally float into your life and are ejected just as hap­haz­ardly past­wards, the rocket fuel pro­ject­ing you into tomor­row—which indi­vid­u­als have exactly zero rel­e­vance to your day-to-day, month-to-month, or year-to-year oper­a­tions, and among which indi­vid­u­als we can now include, with the advent of this brave new inter­net age, those half-​substantial beings who exist some­where across the ether, at the other end of an inter­minable wire strung deep beneath the land (or sea) (or bypass­ing the wire alto­gether and going via satel­lite, quite lit­er­ally through the ether, if there were actu­ally any ether out there to be literal)—because let’s be honest, as bal­ly­hooed as this wave of social media is, there’s still noth­ing quite like star­ing another human being in the eye and affirm­ing that yes, by gum, they do exist, and so do I, and here we are in the real honest-to-goodness phys­i­cal uni­verse, and if I wanted to shut this other person up I could per­fectly well do so, per­haps devi­ate his septum with a well-​planted fist, or a knee to the groin that he would cer­tainly never see coming (the knee, that is, not the groin); depend­ing on how strong your memory is, you might not remem­ber me, Greg Poulos, co-​creator of the afore­men­tioned comic strip.

You may be more inclined to remem­ber John Chouinard, Chronillogical’s other co-​creator, my co-​conspirator and gen­eral guy-I-do-things-with-on-occasion.

Anyway, long story short (too late!): John and I are start­ing up Chronil­log­i­cal again!

*crick­ets*

Well, we’re excited about it anyway.

We’ve been mean­ing to bring Chronil­log­i­cal back for a while now, but we didn’t want to announce any­thing until we had finally gotten some new strips under­way. Well: we have finally got some new strips under­way! We have some new scripts writ­ten (taking off from exactly where we left off the story) and John will be draw­ing them this week. He may even be draw­ing them as we speak1!

Full dis­clo­sure: John and I are kind of eager to wrap up the Troy sto­ry­line and start trying out some new ideas. As a result, you might notice things moving along faster than pre­vi­ously. That said, aside from the (hope­fully) quick­ened pace, the rest of the Troy sto­ry­line will be pre­sented in much the same format as what we’ve done so far.

Once Troy is over, how­ever, we reserve the right to start play­ing around a bit more with form, tone, and per­haps even (gasp!) the update sched­ule. Ulti­mately, we’re hoping to free our­selves from some of the more unpleas­ant stric­tures of plot so that we can actu­ally mine the full poten­tial of our time travel conceit.

Suc­cinctly: We want to make the strip more fun for you to read, and more fun for us to write.

But that’s a little ways away, and we can cross those bridges when we come to them. Let’s presently refo­cus our atten­tions to the more imme­di­ate future, shall we?

Back before we went on hiatus, John and I didn’t really have much in the way of a buffer of strips. We (gen­er­ally) man­aged, thanks to copi­ous amounts of flex­i­ble free time. In the interim, that free time has sat out in the sun a bit too long, dried up a bit, become a smidge more rigid. As a result, John and I are think­ing about prepar­ing a buffer of 6–10 strips.

That would, how­ever, post­pone the re-​launch of Chronil­log­i­cal by sev­eral weeks. Which brings me to the true pur­pose of this far-too-lengthy post: we want to hear what you want, dear read­ers. Are you so parched of comics that even an extra week of wait­ing would be dis­as­trous to your health and sanity? Should we there­fore release what may only be an ini­tial trickle; or, are you will­ing to extend the cur­rent drought a few weeks longer for the promise of a more sus­tained stream—indeed, per­haps even a river?

More directly, with­out my stupid metaphors: Do you want John and me to start updat­ing ASAP, run­ning a higher risk of miss­ing the occa­sional update? Or should wait till we’ve built up a buffer (prob­a­bly by mid-​April) so we can better guar­an­tee con­sis­tent updates? Please let us know!

How­ever we even­tu­ally decide to roll this out, rest assured that John and I are super-​psyched to hang­ing out with Milo, Jen, Roy, and all our read­ers once more. We’re sin­cerely sorry for leav­ing every­thing hang­ing for the past few months—but ulti­mately, we both agree that the hiatus was the best thing for our­selves and the strip. With this break over, we’re hoping that Chronil­log­i­cal will return better than ever before!

Here’s to… the FUTURE!

(Get it?)

(The FUTURE?)

(‘Cause it’s a strip about TIME TRAVEL?)

(Yeah, you know you missed this.)

1 Unlikely.


Something Yet Stirs

*rumble rumble*

(Stay tuned.)


Still Got A Pulse

Heya folks! John here.

Just a little note that Greg and I are still plan­ning Chronillogical’s return AND that we still don’t know when that will happen AND the pos­si­bil­ity remains that Real Life will rear its ter­ri­ble maw and devour CI in one grue­some gulp. We don’t want that to happen! But it’s hard to know what will happen in the future.

(unless you have a time machine)

For those of you still with us, I thought I’d share a quick pic of Jen, who appears to be out of her ele­ment, because hey! It exists and maybe people would enjoy seeing it.

'Hey, Cos, do something! Call me a cab!' 'Okay. You're a cab.' 'Thanks a lot!'
Do they even have taxis here, what is going on

Stay tuned! The con­tact chan­nels are always open, and you may very well hear more from us in the future. Or maybe we’ll both die from a horrid case of Ando­rian shin­gles! Life is dangerous!