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     I love a good sight gag. But it's one thing to write the gag--it takes mere seconds; perhaps a minute or more if I'm smoking my pipe and enjoying the fine, polished teak of my private study. It's quite another, however, to draw the damn thing.  Oh, it seems soooo funny when scribbled absently in a drug-induced haze, but where is that haze when it comes time to pencil and ink thousands of fucking leaves? Nowhere to be found, that's where. It probably won't show its face around here 'til the next time I get high.

(Just kidding, kids. Remember what Potty, the Just-Say-No spokes-puppet says about drugs: "Just say you'd rather not. I'll stick to beer, wine, hard liquor and government-approved pharmaceuticals, thank you very much."  God, that slogan is genius.)

     For anyone interested, the first title I came up with for this pointless text post was: "My Tendinitis Officially Hates Leaves". The second was: "It Can't Always Be Tits and Ass".