war stories
• As someone personally inclined to listen to atonal gallery-ass experimental droning bullshit, I confess I have actually adopted the Beans position when listening to stuff like that. I’m pretty sure I did anyway. I think it was to like Skinny Puppy or Controlled Bleeding or something. Sometimes, I am glad that things are a long time ago.
• Sara’s “EEEE” is drawn from the dire powers of my brother, who can (still, I believe) emit an ear-piercing squeal of highest pitch and scary magnitude. I suppose I’ll get to find out for sure if that is still within his powers when I go to the West Coast premiere of his short movie, Vanished Acres, this weekend.
• One of the weapons I was surrounded with growing up in Dallas was a “Texas-Sized Flyswatter,” a replica of which Sara wields in the strip. It was immensely useful for sweeping the shower for ambush roaches. Yes, they would lurk up in the top corners of the shower, and leap upon me as I bathed. Hell of a way to wake up in the morning. I suppose they have similar implements in Florida, except they are made of stainless steel and you have to have a license for them.