Look, it's not that it makes sense. It's that it wins games. I think, anyway. I've never really tracked it.

#1574; In which the Audience participates (Part 1)

  — October 19th, 2025

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Strivey’s Last Day


Modeling a lovely Survival Kit bag! Photo by Carly Monardo.

Thank you to everyone who came out to the Emerald City con in Seattle! We had fun at the TopatoCo Castle and especially at the TMH Live pre-party. I’m very much looking forward to sharing the video of the event with you, as soon as it’s ready!

I also wanted to give a special thank-you to Shari for this wonderful sketch:

You may remember Shari’s spirited prequel to this comic. These are the sorts of things that arise when I livestream the comic-makin’ process! We get to chatting while I’m putting the comics together, and every little piece that goes into the work gets an elaborate backstory. Shari’s piece made me wonder just how Strivey got himself into that pickle in the first place…

It was an ordinary day for Strivey. He’d heard there might be some lettuce underneath the back porch of the big blue house, so he took a wide, ambling stroll around the side of the building, finding sure footing in the grass as the sun paced him. He liked to time his walks with the sun this way, keeping steadily in that pleasing light, and he fancied himself an escort for that old yellow friend, showing him the way across the old footbridge over the course of an afternoon, or around a large tree, or behind a big blue house.

But today, as they walked slowly and carefully together, the sun managed to tangle itself behind a stand of scraggly branches, and no amount of Strivey’s coaxing could urge it back out. It happened this way often, to Strivey’s chagrin and despite all his urging, and usually it took all night for the big lunkhead to free himself and meet Strivey sheepishly back in the morning. Strivey would shake his small, wrinkled head, and the sun would start to shine brighter and brighter as if saying “I know, I know,” and then they would go on a long walk again.

Today was no different. So by the time Strivey reached the deck behind the big blue house, it was dim; and even though the dimness of evening is never the best time to look for lettuce that might be hiding, he’d come this far, and he was hungry. He peered about in the deck’s corners and crevices, and when nothing was evident beneath the deck he managed to make his way on top of it, and then from there into the house itself, and from there down a long hallway and into a room which was emitting a bright glow as if the sun had beat him there. “That crafty devil managed to sneak in ahead of me,” thought Strivey, as he nosed his way through the doorway.

The sun was smaller in person, a tiny glass figure shouting fiercely at a woman’s leering face. Immediately Strivey knew something was wrong — for his friend’s light, though bright, was not warm, having been trapped within this bulb of glass like a genie captured in a bottle, and the woman was the trapper.

Strivey tried to turn back and flee, but he was, after all, a tortoise, and a sprint back toward the hall took him about twenty minutes.

Next up: Comicpalooza in Houston, TX, March 26-28!

2010 Appearances AKA “The Busy Spring”

I’ve updated the right sidebar to indicate my confirmed-as-of-this-instant 2010 appearances! Coming up first is this weekend‘s Tweet Me Harder Live event plus Emerald City Comicon, both in Seattle, to be followed very quickly by visits to Houston, San Francisco, New York, and Chicago.

ALSO: Regarding the One Too Many Mornings contest: I neglected to mention that the deadline is Friday at midnight! And if you don’t have Facebook or Twitter, but would still like to enter the contest, you can always tell the filmmakers your story directly — their contact info is listed at onetoomanymornings.com! But really, the point of the contest is to spread the word about the movie. So — email the filmmakers, then tell twenty strangers about the time you were hung over, and we’ll call it even. Deal? (I have no way of knowing if you don’t do the last part.)

ALSO here is a sketch I just did:

It’s been One Too Many Mornings

My friend Mike Mohan is a filmmaker. We went to film school together, worked on projects for each other, and both got jobs in the industry when we graduated — in fact he’s got one of the coolest breaking-in stories around:

I started out as an intern at Fox Searchlight Pictures. I actually got that job through the strangest of ways. They were having a test screening of Super Troopers at the local theatre, and I snuck in (film students weren’t allowed).

I was really hoping to weasel my way into the focus group at the end of the screening to meet one of the Searchlight executives, but apparently they already had enough 20-year-old white dudes. But after the screening they handed out a flyer that had the email address of someone that worked there. It read something like: “if you have any additional comments on Super Troopers, please email soandso@fox.com.”

At that moment, that was my only connection. This one email address of a complete stranger.

So I stayed up all night long composing the best email of my entire life. The thing would have made Tolstoy blush, it was so long. I discussed every minute detail of Super Troopers -– I even looked on imdb at the upcoming comedy releases, and tried to give them advice on exactly when they needed to release it later that year -– when there were no other competing comedies in the marketplace.

At the bottom of the email I even wrote “it will be in your best interest to call me tomorrow so we can set up an appointment for you to hire me as an intern.” The thing was absolutely and completely naive, but full of passion.

It worked. The next day both a development exec, AND a creative advertising exec called me.

In the years since we both graduated, as I began to develop a career doing comics and talking to all you people, Mike kept making movies. I always joked with friends how I hadn’t seen Mike’s latest film because he’d made a dozen more since the last one. He made slightly disturbing shorts, moody music videos, absurd children’s shows, and a memorable fake infomercial. And now he’s made a feature film.

After two years of shooting on nights and weekends, One Too Many Mornings premiered at Sundance this year. The film is self-distributed — meaning that Mike, along with Anthony Deptula and Stephen Hale (the co-writers and stars), are putting DVDs into envelopes themselves, booking theatrical gigs themselves, and showing the movie everywhere they can to whomever’s willing to come out and watch it. It’s a ballsy move, but it can work — it’s a close cousin to what I do, after all. And folks have taken notice of them: here’s the LA Times talking about OTMM; here’s the NY Times; here’s famous screenwriter/blogger John August, and the filmmakers talk a lot about their process, and link to other interviews, on their blog as well.

I’m hugely proud of what these guys have accomplished, and I’d encourage you to check their screening schedule to see if OTMM’s coming to your town soon, or consider a DVD or direct download of the film. In fact, OTMM is having its next Los Angeles screening next Tuesday, the 16th of March, 8PM at the Downtown Independent, with John August hosting a filmmaker Q+A after the show. Tickets are $7…

OR…how about free? In an amazing example of cross-internet synergy, Mike and the gang have decided to award two pairs of tickets to the March 16 screening to LA-area Wondermark readers, as well as two limited-edition DVDs to anyone out of town! Here’s the word direct from Mike:

In the first 5 minutes of One Too Many Mornings, the main character, Fischer, wakes up with the worst hangover of his life. He’s late to his little league soccer practice — and he’s the coach. You would think that nursing a pounding headache and queasy stomach while being surrounded by excited 8-year-olds would be the most horrible scenario possible, but go from bad to worse: he throws up. Not in front of any kids, but literally on a cute and unsuspecting kid who was quietly tying his shoe behind him.

We pose this question to you: What was the worst thing you’ve ever had to do with a hangover?

Enter to win by answering this question on Twitter or Facebook: either tweet using hashtag #otmmLA (to enter for the screening tickets) or #otmmDVD (to enter for a DVD), or post on the official OTMM Facebook wall (using the same hashtags — I know Facebook doesn’t really do hashtags, but work with us here).

Mike and the OTMM gang will read your replies — and regardless of who wins, everyone who enters will receive a link to download one of their prior short films! “La Dentista” tells the strange story of an illegal dentist operating out of an apartment building. It is pretty nutty.

So there we have it! One Too Many Mornings! Hangover questions! Enter to win! Free! Yes. Okay. Hooray! OH YEAH UPDATE: The deadline is Friday midnight! UPDATE 2: Which is now in the past!

Next weekend: SEATTLE!

I’ll be appearing in Seattle next week! I can’t wait — the Emerald City Comicon is one of my favorite shows of the year. But I’m also doing something else special: a live performance of my podcast Tweet Me Harder!

Kris Straub and I will be headlining the TopatoCo Pre-Con Kickoff Party on Friday night, March 12, in West Seattle. Admission is free, and it’ll be a fun time with cartoonists and friends! Everyone’s invited to come have a great time. It is The Official ECCC Pre-Party. More info here, or it’s on Facebook right here.

THEN: Saturday and Sunday, March 13-14, I’ll be at the Emerald City Comicon (at the TopatoCo booth, just inside the front doors and to the left). I’ll have shirts, books, prints, hopefully some brand-new stickers (if they arrive in time) and of course, awkward hugs and shifty glances for all. It’s my official kickoff to the spring convention season, so catch me while I’m still chipper and excited. Hope to see you there!

What happened that day

A hundred birds leapt at once from the shaking earth. A leaf fell; the first of many, as the pounding grew stronger, more violent, more energetic. A slight burning smell tickled the nose of a dog, trotting across a field. At the next deep, crackling slam, the dog turned and ran the opposite direction.

First to break the surface was a finger. It looked like a potato being rejected by the world, jutting suddenly forth from the ground like a coin had been dropped in some slot: “Potatoes – 10¢.” Someone must have dropped a dollar in, because nine more soon followed, pop-pop-pop. They flexed and the caked brown dirt fell off at the cracks and seams. Beneath was red — burning red, the red of a body in a sauna, the burning of a soul sent back, to finish up.

The hands spread the earth away on both sides like a swimmer surfacing, a smooth, easy motion that swept up great mounds of field, rolling right over trees, trucks, squirrels, the lot. Hills now existed in these places, and behind them, canyons. The arms broke the ground, the sleeves steaming but whole, hanging heavily like great bags of rope. The hands found the crust of the planet and pushed against it — and then the hat crested. And then the head was through.

When its face touched air it drew a ragged breath, and with that sharp intake came power: it breathed again, and again, and then it rose. It stood and sought out the sky. It sought out the land on either side. Then it sought out a tree. It stared at the tree, steadily, until the leaves withered and began to burn.

By now the road was crowded with cars, with trucks, with shouts and the jangle of telephones. As the distractions drew the man’s attention, a line of bright hot flame sped across the road, exactly following his gaze. The first car his eyes washed over began to burn. Shouts turned to cries, but these sounds were far-off. The man did not notice. He lifted his feet and set them down. He walked away.

The flame spat itself out in a long line toward the horizon, before petering out as the man’s gaze extended into the distance. Buildings stood there. He made for them, leaving behind the cars, the people, and the deep, hot tunnel he had climbed. For weeks he had climbed; for months he had fought his way through the earth. Today, the day with the air, was a good day. It was the start of something beautiful.

This day — the climbing from the pit — had been anticipated by many. Some waited for him in Springfield, at the tomb; others favored the memorial in Washington. A few even camped out near Hodgenville and the old log cabin. For many years there had been whispers that he was returning. Everybody had gotten ready for him; everyone expected him to welcome them, to praise them, and for him to take up their burdens.

They were wrong. He did not know those people. Their constant wails were brambles in his ears; their prayers were caterwauling bleats, one litany of sobs after another.

So when the day came that his eyes flashed awake, he fled, kicking away from that sound, into the heat and the liquid and the blessed, blessed silence.

By the time the first flames began to lick the buildings of Perth, everyone knew what was happening. It’s just that no one had expected him to take the long way up.

—

The new shirt is printed on American Apparel Organic Edition in the very lovely Galaxy color!


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