 |
| Click to Enlarge |
Friday, April 27, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Webcomic - Never Truly Alone
 |
| Click to Enlarge |
Note that in the third panel, he's doing the "Velociraptor" dance. =)
Didja like the strip? Say so and/or share it with your friends! Links below!
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Webcomic - Friday the 13th
 |
| Click to Enlarge |
Here's the real question: Is a chalk circle and a few candles really gonna stop a velociraptor?
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Occupational Hazards: Neurosurgeon
"Where the hell did you get your license??" cried the now-deceased patient's sister.
"Canada," Sam flatly replied. Ignoring the further sobs and screams of the newest person to join the ranks of those who hated him, Dr. Sam Logan sauntered off down the hallway to make a report to the head neurologist and make his rounds.
This is merely a simple example of Dr. Logan's... ineptitude.
As he mentioned, he received his schooling, internment, and brain surgery license in Canada. While the board of Mid-West Medical and Emergency realized that this meant Sam would probably do better operating on people's brains while drunk rather than sober, they still hired him due to a recent shortage in doctors. Thanks to the recent draft, most of America's doctors had been sent off to the war-front on Mars. Sam had avoided the draft due to his extended residency in another country. Furthermore, there was little worry of malpractice law-suits thanks to various new laws and policies and extremely strict medical-release wavers that had been put into place by virtually every medical institution on the planet.
Yeah, the world was becoming shittier and shittier.
Little did people know that Dr. Sam Logan was actually much smarter than many believed.
Of course his pet cat, Patrick, knew exactly what Sam was capable of, but since no one ever asked him, Patrick never volunteered the information. Besides, he figured that the oncoming apocalypse of the human race would give him the opportunity to take control of the world like he had always dreamed of...
Dr. Sam Logan was 57 years old when his plan began to take motion. It was October 31, 1949 when his former patients began to rise from the grave.
Yes, the zombie apocalypse was upon us. The extremes of the caste system were the first to go. The poor, with little to protect themselves with, had little chance to begin with. Meanwhile, the rich, often overreacting and over-thinking spent their money, time, and resources on all the wrong things. Ranging from reinforced steel bunkers to arsenals of tanks (a wooden door would hold a zombie back for weeks, and a well placed bullet from any gun would immobilize it for good), they didn't stock up on essentials like a means to obtain food after supplies ran out (just as an example.) That's not to say everyone failed to take the proper measures, but those who did often became the target of mobs seeking shelter. The most prudent of the rich chose to escape to Mars before things got too ugly.
The middle class fared well. At first, at least. Used to making do with what they had and using resources to their full potential, many managed to live until the apocalypse ran its course. I'd like to think that the gamers and nerds were among those who fared best, but honestly, there was little evidence of that.
Despite man-kind's ability to survive the greatest tragedy to ever plague the planet (besides the invention of hot dogs), they lost the rank of alpha-predator. Patrick (Sam's cat) led a revolution, uniting all the felines of the world, both large and small, in a brilliant overthrow of a species domination that had lasted millions of years. Yes, it was a historic event indeed.
As for what happened to the infamous Dr. Sam Logan, we only know this much: In the spirit of all crazy mad-scientists (for that was truly what he was), he ended up offering himself up to his creation. If you haven't figured it out, that essentially meant throwing himself into a mob of zombies to be torn into hundreds of pieces as the living dead consumed every bit of his flesh.
Disgusting, I know.
The moral of this story is this: Don't ever, EVER let Sam Logan become a neurosurgeon.
THE END!
I sorta rushed this one but what didja think? Like it? Got occupations you wanna see in the future? Post your comments below!
"Canada," Sam flatly replied. Ignoring the further sobs and screams of the newest person to join the ranks of those who hated him, Dr. Sam Logan sauntered off down the hallway to make a report to the head neurologist and make his rounds.
This is merely a simple example of Dr. Logan's... ineptitude.
As he mentioned, he received his schooling, internment, and brain surgery license in Canada. While the board of Mid-West Medical and Emergency realized that this meant Sam would probably do better operating on people's brains while drunk rather than sober, they still hired him due to a recent shortage in doctors. Thanks to the recent draft, most of America's doctors had been sent off to the war-front on Mars. Sam had avoided the draft due to his extended residency in another country. Furthermore, there was little worry of malpractice law-suits thanks to various new laws and policies and extremely strict medical-release wavers that had been put into place by virtually every medical institution on the planet.
Yeah, the world was becoming shittier and shittier.
Little did people know that Dr. Sam Logan was actually much smarter than many believed.
Of course his pet cat, Patrick, knew exactly what Sam was capable of, but since no one ever asked him, Patrick never volunteered the information. Besides, he figured that the oncoming apocalypse of the human race would give him the opportunity to take control of the world like he had always dreamed of...
Dr. Sam Logan was 57 years old when his plan began to take motion. It was October 31, 1949 when his former patients began to rise from the grave.
Yes, the zombie apocalypse was upon us. The extremes of the caste system were the first to go. The poor, with little to protect themselves with, had little chance to begin with. Meanwhile, the rich, often overreacting and over-thinking spent their money, time, and resources on all the wrong things. Ranging from reinforced steel bunkers to arsenals of tanks (a wooden door would hold a zombie back for weeks, and a well placed bullet from any gun would immobilize it for good), they didn't stock up on essentials like a means to obtain food after supplies ran out (just as an example.) That's not to say everyone failed to take the proper measures, but those who did often became the target of mobs seeking shelter. The most prudent of the rich chose to escape to Mars before things got too ugly.
The middle class fared well. At first, at least. Used to making do with what they had and using resources to their full potential, many managed to live until the apocalypse ran its course. I'd like to think that the gamers and nerds were among those who fared best, but honestly, there was little evidence of that.
Despite man-kind's ability to survive the greatest tragedy to ever plague the planet (besides the invention of hot dogs), they lost the rank of alpha-predator. Patrick (Sam's cat) led a revolution, uniting all the felines of the world, both large and small, in a brilliant overthrow of a species domination that had lasted millions of years. Yes, it was a historic event indeed.
As for what happened to the infamous Dr. Sam Logan, we only know this much: In the spirit of all crazy mad-scientists (for that was truly what he was), he ended up offering himself up to his creation. If you haven't figured it out, that essentially meant throwing himself into a mob of zombies to be torn into hundreds of pieces as the living dead consumed every bit of his flesh.
Disgusting, I know.
The moral of this story is this: Don't ever, EVER let Sam Logan become a neurosurgeon.
THE END!
I sorta rushed this one but what didja think? Like it? Got occupations you wanna see in the future? Post your comments below!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Webcomic - In Loving Memory
 |
| Click to Enlarge. |
I love you.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Occupational Hazards: Electrical Engineer
This is the first post of a series I am dubbing Occupational Hazards. It is what the blog was originally planned for, though Velociraptor and Naturism ended up coming first. The concept started out while I was at work and a co-worker started giving me different occupations, asking me how my life would fair if I did the particular job. As I explained how I saw my life going with each job, every time I ended up dying an unfortunate death. This happened again at work another time. Thus my inspiration for this blog series. Today's treat: Sam is an electrical engineer. Enjoy!
Sam was always an ambitious guy who lacked motivation in things that did not concern him. Good thing he loved electronics. He graduated Wichita State University with a degree in electrical engineering in a short four years, only side-stepping from his original goal of being a computer engineer. Getting into the business was not hard. As they say, to make it in this world you've gotta know the right people and be able to kiss some major ass. Fortunately, Sam's ass-kissing days would not approach for another few years. His cousin had been working with an electrian's firm for close to ten years. Thanks to his cousin, Sam had his foot in the door, and that was all he needed to secure a place for himself. (Cus he's awesome.)
At the age of twenty-three, Sam wasn't only beginning to lead a soon-to-be very successful career, but also preparing to marry a gorgeous woman (by the name of Petunia) whom he had been dating for the past year. Sure, he'd admit that she wasn't his dream woman. For instance, she didn't seem to have any interest in having children (he wanted seven) and she was a blond (he's a sucker for brunettes), but she seemed to love him... or at least like him for who he was, and when it came to being the slightly wacky and strange guy that he was, he couldn't ask for much more. 'Course he liked her too.
Three years came and went and a combination of ass-kissing and simply showing off his expertise brought him to the door step of General Electric. (Or rather, Electric General, a name change that occurred when the company was restructured and began working on contract for various big city crime lords, unbeknownst, of course, to the general public.) There he was offered a starting salary of 100k per year (plus various benefits, 2-weeks vacation, and a hefty annual bonus.)
It should be noted that Sam was mildly aware of the kinds of things that EG did on the side, but he had little choice. Petunia, his now wife of two years would not settle for less than EG's offer and had threatened to leave him if he didn't bring in enough dough to keep her lifestyle comfortable. Sam believed in the sacredness of marriage, even if Petunia didn't, and thus was going to keep her happy no matter what. Thus, Sam took the job at Electric General.
At first the job was nothing special. He helped in designing new models of various household appliances. His task was simple: every six months or so, he was to aid in "upgrading" any given model of vacuum cleaner, microwave, power drill, etc for a minimum to zero manufacturing increase. Only he didn't do that. He revolutionized household appliances. He destroyed the market with far-advanced machinery that was actually cheaper to produce. Within five years, EG held the market in the palm of its hand. There was no competition. Sam was becoming a legend. Or should have anyway, except for EG kept him under wraps. Of course he was compensated well for this. It was better than winning the lottery. Petunia certainly had more money now than she could have ever spent. (Or should have been able to ever spend anyway. Of course, as in all sob stories, she had a gambling problem.) All Sam really wanted was a nice house, a motor boat, and an unlimited supply of beef jerk, all of which was already bought and paid for.
While he was extremely valuable producing for the public market, EG knew that the real money was in the underground market. So of course it was a no-brainer to place Sam there. He never knew exactly what he was working on or who it would go to, but he did know that the compensation was extraordinary and that refusal to work could be deadly. He never caught wind of the atrocities that his various creations has ended up aiding in, and he preferred it that way. That is, until he was fifty-two. When the mob got a hold of his electric force fields, well, they were no longer afraid of anything save a nuclear bomb. They went public. They took over San Francisco, Los Angeles... all of California and its neighboring states. They were spreading across the country like wildfire. The government and its military didn't have a chance. America was being plunged into anarchy.
So Sam went fishing.
It was during this fishing trip that his boat quit working. Quickly deducing that it was a problem with the wiring, he went to the back of the boat to retrieve his toolbox. ...at which point he was struck by lightning and instantly killed. Sure, sure it was a sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky, but hey, stranger things have happened, right?
Ehhh, he probably got smut by God.
THE END!
---
So if you liked it, let me know. Also, what occupation would you like to read about next? I'm fed by what YOU wanna read! So come on, let's hear it!
Sam was always an ambitious guy who lacked motivation in things that did not concern him. Good thing he loved electronics. He graduated Wichita State University with a degree in electrical engineering in a short four years, only side-stepping from his original goal of being a computer engineer. Getting into the business was not hard. As they say, to make it in this world you've gotta know the right people and be able to kiss some major ass. Fortunately, Sam's ass-kissing days would not approach for another few years. His cousin had been working with an electrian's firm for close to ten years. Thanks to his cousin, Sam had his foot in the door, and that was all he needed to secure a place for himself. (Cus he's awesome.)
At the age of twenty-three, Sam wasn't only beginning to lead a soon-to-be very successful career, but also preparing to marry a gorgeous woman (by the name of Petunia) whom he had been dating for the past year. Sure, he'd admit that she wasn't his dream woman. For instance, she didn't seem to have any interest in having children (he wanted seven) and she was a blond (he's a sucker for brunettes), but she seemed to love him... or at least like him for who he was, and when it came to being the slightly wacky and strange guy that he was, he couldn't ask for much more. 'Course he liked her too.
Three years came and went and a combination of ass-kissing and simply showing off his expertise brought him to the door step of General Electric. (Or rather, Electric General, a name change that occurred when the company was restructured and began working on contract for various big city crime lords, unbeknownst, of course, to the general public.) There he was offered a starting salary of 100k per year (plus various benefits, 2-weeks vacation, and a hefty annual bonus.)
It should be noted that Sam was mildly aware of the kinds of things that EG did on the side, but he had little choice. Petunia, his now wife of two years would not settle for less than EG's offer and had threatened to leave him if he didn't bring in enough dough to keep her lifestyle comfortable. Sam believed in the sacredness of marriage, even if Petunia didn't, and thus was going to keep her happy no matter what. Thus, Sam took the job at Electric General.
At first the job was nothing special. He helped in designing new models of various household appliances. His task was simple: every six months or so, he was to aid in "upgrading" any given model of vacuum cleaner, microwave, power drill, etc for a minimum to zero manufacturing increase. Only he didn't do that. He revolutionized household appliances. He destroyed the market with far-advanced machinery that was actually cheaper to produce. Within five years, EG held the market in the palm of its hand. There was no competition. Sam was becoming a legend. Or should have anyway, except for EG kept him under wraps. Of course he was compensated well for this. It was better than winning the lottery. Petunia certainly had more money now than she could have ever spent. (Or should have been able to ever spend anyway. Of course, as in all sob stories, she had a gambling problem.) All Sam really wanted was a nice house, a motor boat, and an unlimited supply of beef jerk, all of which was already bought and paid for.
While he was extremely valuable producing for the public market, EG knew that the real money was in the underground market. So of course it was a no-brainer to place Sam there. He never knew exactly what he was working on or who it would go to, but he did know that the compensation was extraordinary and that refusal to work could be deadly. He never caught wind of the atrocities that his various creations has ended up aiding in, and he preferred it that way. That is, until he was fifty-two. When the mob got a hold of his electric force fields, well, they were no longer afraid of anything save a nuclear bomb. They went public. They took over San Francisco, Los Angeles... all of California and its neighboring states. They were spreading across the country like wildfire. The government and its military didn't have a chance. America was being plunged into anarchy.
So Sam went fishing.
It was during this fishing trip that his boat quit working. Quickly deducing that it was a problem with the wiring, he went to the back of the boat to retrieve his toolbox. ...at which point he was struck by lightning and instantly killed. Sure, sure it was a sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky, but hey, stranger things have happened, right?
Ehhh, he probably got smut by God.
THE END!
---
So if you liked it, let me know. Also, what occupation would you like to read about next? I'm fed by what YOU wanna read! So come on, let's hear it!
Webcomic - Naturism
 |
| Click image for a larger version. |
I was looking for another place to budget cut anyway...
---
Inspired by a conversation I had with my best friend, Sarah. Alas, we decided that going nude may not be the best choice when lacking a belt.
On a side note, I admittedly think that my favorite thing about this strip is the raptor again =D
Monday, April 9, 2012
Webcomic - Velociraptor
Click image for larger version.
The other day I suddenly decided that I was a velociraptor. I even came up with a velociraptor dance. Unfortunately, velociraptors aren't very good at giving hugs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)