Death of a Stegosaurus Part 26

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 25

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 24

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 23

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 22

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 21

I changed the posting rules so anyone can comment (even anonymously) now. Don't be shy!

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 20

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 19

So not chill.

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 18

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 17

I got a lot of drawing done on the flight home.

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 16

I'm happy to report a few changes to the SuperNova Media Takeover (tm) operation.

I've relocated back to Stanford from Madrid, meaning that I actually have access to a scanner now. Previously, the only means I had of uploading the comics was to take pictures of them with my digital camera, which yields lower quality, especially because I broke my camera's screen by sitting down with it in my back pocket. Since I couldn't actually see what I was taking pictures of I would just take close-ups of my comics from various distances and amounts of light and hope that one turned out OK, and if not, I usually just posted it anyway out of laziness. If I'm feeling up to the task I'll re-scan all the old comics and post them again as better images. Or maybe not.

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 15

Tonterías

As my avid fans should know, I have a subscription to Spin magazine that cost me $3000. For that kind of money, I expect quality, but all their reviews are written in some kind of hipster gibberish language.

From their review of Yeah Yeah Yeah's It's Blitz!, May 2009 (9/10 stars):

"In many ways, Karen O is the spiritual den mother of the late-aughts Facebook strays who embraced MGMT's "Time to Pretend" and "Kids" as winkingly misty, Linus-blanket hymns. But like so many implicated in New York City's emergence as a stylishly scruffy rock mecca, and then as a post-Ground Zero sandbox of retro-kitsch and nü-rave denial, she bailed (to Los Angeles, coincidentally, where an even more starfucked version of the same scene was oozing around culture-hustler Steve Aoki). Now, responding to the laptop new-wave and neo-disco detritus that washed up in her wake, Karen's back, offering a couch to crash on, but also issuing challenges."

From their review of U2's No Line on the Horizon, March 2009 (3.5/5 stars):

""I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight” reads like a bumper sticker on an SUV in a Wal-Mart parking lot -- a meek yelp of rebellion from a mortgage-stressed husband who dreams of creeping out for Nascar Bud Shootout night at Hooters. But on the song of that title from U2’s 12th studio album, Bono belts out the line with liberating glee -- like a giddy favela kid swinging onto an arm of Rio’s Christ the Redeemer statue."

So the song sounds like "a giddy favela kid swinging onto an arm of Rio's Christ the Redeemer statue"? The lead singer of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs gave birth to some people who use facebook and like blankets, possibly after being impregnated by some dude named Steve Aoki, and now I can sleep on her couch if I can pass her challenges?

I know it's impossible to describe what music sounds like, but there's got to be a better way than extended metaphors infused with a heavy dose of pointless name checking. That's why I propose this: if you're going to not make sense, at least make it entertaining.

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 14

Death of a Stegosaurus Part 13