The Other Prime Directive


My Patrons got EIGHT TOTALLY DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF THIS COMIC with totally different jokes!!! WHAT?!?!? I KNOW!!!

Dearest Sharksploders, please help me get my Patreon over the $2000 hump. Comics is my full time job, but it doesn’t currently pay full time money. I’ve been doing a lot of freelance work lately (which distracts me from making comics) to make ends meet, and I’ve agreed to attend more conventions this year than I really feel comfortable with (which REALLY distracts me from making comics) out of financial fear. Every little bit helps and is QUITE appreciated.


Oh, Wesley, no… you didn’t read the comments, did you? Why would you do that to yourself? You’re a very smart boy. Perhaps the smartest. You’ve got a lot going for you in terms of getting to fly a spaceship, getting to make out with alien girls that sometimes turn into bear monsters and occasionally getting space-drunk with a man-shaped science robot. FOCUS on these aspects of your life, man! Don’t let the haters get you down. Go do a wicked science fair project that creates an artificial singularity or whatever. That sounds like a fun Saturday night, right? Much better than trolling the Internet for opinions that strangers have about you, and your sweaters and your haircut and how sassy you get when the grown up JUST WON’T LISTEN! You’re great, kid. You keep doing you and it will all work out. Maybe someday you’ll catch the attention of an inter dimensional child predator in a windowless space van who will leave a trail of space candy to guide you to his other pants of existence… other PLANES of existence.


Infinite Martys In Infinite Combinations


I think about Back To The Future a lot. Like, more than a regular lot. A LOT a lot. I frequently watch the movies with my wife, and I frequently pause the movies for extended periods of time to go on rants about the various unchecked, universe ending paradoxes within the series and, let me tell you what, these rants are guaranteed panty melters… except the opposite of that. They’re… panty doublers? Panty reinforcers? Stone cold panty fortifiers? Anyway, about a week ago I posted a bunch of those “a lot of thoughts about Back To The Future” on Twitter, then my friend Wil dared me to make a comic about them (as he is wont to do) and I obliged.

Please check out my Patreon and throw in a a few bucks a month so that making comics can continue to be my job.

If that doesn’t suit you, how about buying yourself a nice shirt or print from my store. That’s almost entirely self-serving when you think about it. Getting yourself a present, that is. You deserve it. You did a good thing one time, and now you need a reward lest you forget why you do good deeds at all and descend into your own personal moral chaos spectrum.

I am happy to answer any questions about Back To The Future, the Infinite Martys Paradox, the 1885/1955/1985/2015 Temporal Nexus or Why Doc Brown doesn’t understand time travel or causality at all that you may decide to post in the comments. Rest assured that my answers will be 100% canon, truthful and definitive.


How Many Lights Do You See?


Here’s (I believe) THE FINAL redrawn/recolored FANEURYSM comic. You can see the original here, and read the blog post I wrote back in April 2014 below.

The Star Trek: TNG episode “Chain Of Command Pt. 2″ is such a wonderful hour of television. Patrick Stewart just DESTROYS your preconceived notions about cheesy acting in Star Trek or in science fiction in general. He Shakespeares THE SHIT out of that final torture scene. Picard is a man physically and mentally broken, but his will triumphs in the face of unbearable pain and almost total, partial nudity. Cardassians, man. Fucking Cardassians.


Here’s a T-Shirt I made about how much people care about fictional depictions of long past interstellar conflicts.

HijiNKS ENSUE I have opinions about Space Wizards - Star Wars t-shirt


Cosmic Sans


Here’s another redrawn/recolored FANEURYSM comic. This was one of the first ones I ever did, one of my favorites and the one that probably the fewest people who aren’t me understand. You can see the original here, and read the blog post I wrote back in April 2014 below.

I wrote at least three different comics about “Darmok.” I am definitely making at least one of them, but I haven’t decided if I’m going to save it for later or just do it now. I also haven’t decided if I’m just going to give up HijiNKS ENSUE and FANEURYSM and just make Darmok comics every day until I’m dead. Decisions are tough. It feels like that one time… with Temba… and the arms or whatever. Metaphors are also tough.


As much as I love “Darmok,” I do take issue with it. Actually, I take a metric assload of issue with it. Let’s assume that at some point the Tamarians didn’t talk like stupid idiots. They HAD to have regular language at some point in order to pass down the stories that allow their metaphors to be relatable. So perhaps they gave up on coherent speech as a people at some point and the Head Tamarian In Charge said, “Guys, here me out. We all know about Darmok, and Temba, and Shaka and what they were all about and what not. How’s about when I finish THIS SENTENCE, we only speak in reference to our shared cultural stories from here on out starrrrrtiiiiiinnnnnng…. NOW?”

I’m sure it worked out great for maybe a day or two, and everyone felt super cool about their complicated new way of not really communicating very well, and how funny it was that they were super frustrating to every other species in the Galaxy, but then… THEN someone needed to find a way to say, “Hey, I think I dropped the remote behind the couch when I was vacuuming. Can you reach back there and check? I would, but you know how my back is.” Then it was just kill or be killed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Captain Dathon and his crew were the last six surviving Tamarians. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were only six of them left and they had JUST started talking this way maybe 6 weeks ago.

Of course it makes a hell of a lot more sense if you consider that maybe they only speak that way in adulthood, or in formal settings, or if they belong to a particular religion are political affiliation, or if they are high born or when they want to infuriate an uncharacteristically dense in this particular episode Starfleet Captain until they are eaten by an invisible monster in order to prove a point.

Look at these Harry Potter Owl Post Earrings, Doctor Who Dalek Earrings and Star Wars Lightsaber Earrings my wife made!

Sharksplode Harry Potter Earrings Dalek Earrings Lightsaber Star Wars Earrings

Look at them with your eyes, buy them with your hands and jam them into your ears!


Missing Movie Scenes: The Fifth Element


I am SUPER EXICTED to announce that I have completely retooled my Patreon rewards and goals! Become a Patron now and you can help me release eBooks of my comics and sketches, bonus Patron-Only comics, an album of cover songs, a LOST EPISODE OF THE HIJINKS ENSUE PODCAST, and MORE! Read the details HERE or just check out my Patreon HERE.


If you’ve never seen The Fifth Element, then this comic doesn’t make any sense. A) Fix your problem and treat yourself to one of the most unique and definitive films of the Sci-Fi/action drama and 2) Come back and read this comic again so we can all be on the same page.

Corbin Dallas is initially surprised when The Diva tells him to pull a bunch of Universe saving rocks out of her guts, but there’s too much else going on at the time for him to stop and wonder just how they got in there in the first place. He’s pretty gung-ho about his mission, so the second he realizes what she’s getting at, he’s two elbows deep in her gooey blueness, ripping out kilos of magical sandstone like there’s no tomorrow (because it is very likely there will not be one. A tomorrow that is.).

I see the stones getting in there one of a few different ways. There’s the method illustrated above, where The Diva Plava Laguna eats them like a bowl full of Grapenuts (though I expect they’d be slightly easier to actually get down than Grapenuts). Then there’s my second theory, where upon she’s running to the gate, just about to miss her space plane to Floston Paradise, she tosses her bag up on the scale and… and… FUCK! 52lbs! Her carry-on is already packed to the brim with head-tendril moisturizing jelly, so there’s only one option. She has to HOMF them down, right then and there. The slight variation to this theory involves a Space TSA agent telling her, “Can’t you read? No firearms, no liquids over 4 ounces and NO MAGIC STONES. You’re going to have to finish those here, if you want to go through security.” I call this the “forgot I had a bottle of water in my backpack” theory.

Maybe The Diva’s species are like crocodiles, and they already swallow stones to aid in digestion. Or maybe they’re like those elephants that eat river clay to gain much needed minerals that aren’t found in their natural diet. Or maybe The Diva is just a dirty ol’ rock eatin’ nasty freak.