I battled a serious case of writer’s block today. I had roughed out 4 or 5 comic ideas but none of them ever gelled. Josh suggested I do a fart joke and be done with it. I didn’t want to cop out quite that hard, but as a tribute to my day of desperation and to his flatulent suggestion, I threw one in the first panel.

I’d like to think Isaac Hayes was floating around in some sort of Soulicious Chocolate Funk Heaven, the kind of place where Bootsy Collins, not St. Peter, would greet you at the pearly entrance to the Eternal Life Funkdubious Mothership Spacegasm. Alas, Mr. Hayes was a Sci-Lon. You’d think he could have warded of the brainwashing powers of the “Church of Scientolgy” with his Sex-Machine powers or his ability to “not cop out when there’s danger all about.” (I know the song isn’t about HIM but… isn’t it, though?)

At least Sci-Lon’s believe in a type of reincarnation (it litterally involves a trip to Venus to have your soul refitted with a new “meat-body”). He could already be back. If you see a 2 day old baby with a deep, soulful voice, a willingness to risk his neck for his brother man and just a little more facial hair that you would expect from an infant, that’s probably him.

Ya’ damn right.