Hanging around the comic book store, you encounter a large number of hipsters. Some of them are in film, some not. They are immediately recognizable by their hoods and beanies, intentionally awkward glasses, and thrift store stylings.

They are eternally looking for something “different,” but can’t really define what “different” might be. There is a constant outpouring of pseudo intellectual ennui in their verbiage, a complete lack of either wonder or enthusiasm.

This is pretty @#$%ing frustrating to be around. I think comics are in a creative doldrum, sure…but I still love the medium. There are some books like Hawkeye, or Saga, that are just fantastic, and the shipping dates are cause for excitement.

On Wednesday (when new comics hit the street), I got pretty frustrated with a wave of hipsters running their post modern mouths about everything. Some kind people even referenced some excellent books in the quest for something different, and they were met with a “meh.” I took out my clipboard and drew this page, a rare Sunday bonus post, right there.

Invulnerability is no good against hipsters. Their assault of basically depressing output is entirely though your eyes and your ears, the very organs that i use to enjoy comics in the first place. I thought about having our hero chuck them into the sun, but a cliff with sharp pointy stones at the bottom…that something different. I thought that might help the whole hipster quest along.

Next Issue: Mandatory Dance Party!

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