Civilian Casualties


I’m not saying this happened to me at the barber shop a few days ago, but I’m not NOT saying that this is EXACTLY what happened to me when my barber asked me if I was watching Gotham and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

I often forget that most people just watch TV instead of CONSTANTLY and RELENTLESSLY SCRUTINIZING and ANALYZING it. I also forget that many people (probably most people) aren’t super passionate about the things they talk about. Most people just talk to make sure the sound making parts in their head regions still function. It’s an involuntary act, like breathing or how your left eyelid twitches constantly (everyone has that, right?).

When normal humans ask you a question like, “Do you like that TV show?” the absolute most they are expecting in return is, “Yeah, it’s pretty good. The star is attractive and I like how it’s provides about 43 minutes a week that I’m not alone with my dark thoughts.” I forget that I intentionally surround myself with people who have both nuanced, informed opinions on the things they enjoy AND expertise in that subject. What I’m basically saying is I guess I’m an elitist prick, I think my friends are cooler than regular people, I think most people are classified as REGULAR PEOPLE (which is a monstrous thing to think in the first place) and the thought of having “small talk” with a “regular person” makes me want to feed a stray cat to an ATM.

HEY SHIRT WANTERS: I’ll be posting holiday shipping deadlines over at my store soon. If you want something before, let’s say, around the last week of December, you should probably order it now.

Want to help me bring back the HijiNKS ENSUE Podcast?! Or at least a NEW PODCAST called HijiNKS ENSUE?!  Then my Patreon is THE PLACE for you. My next goal is to relaunch my podcast and updated weekly. Go on and help out if you can. Thanks!




Darlin’ Don’t You Go And Cut Your Hair


Today, HijiNKS ENSUE turns 8 years old!
(*COUGH! COUGH! Obligatory links to Patreon, donation page and wishlist *COUGH!)

Also HijiNKS ENSUE is ending. Read more about the end of HijiNKS ENSUE and the new comic project I am starting in June HERE.

With this comic ending, I wanted comic Joel’s haircut to reflect my own for the last leg of the journey. At least, that’s what I wanted until I drew it and realized it takes maybe 100 times longer and a million percent more lines to draw than his own “hair tusk,” as my friend David Willis liked to call it. You’ll know if I get sick of drawing it when comic Joel just magically grows all of his old hair back and no one ever mentions it.

 This comic is based on two very real problems for me. One: I hate making, hearing or in any way otherwise participating in small talk. I have documented this issue previously. Two: I take off my glasses when I get a haircut, so I have to squint to see what the stylist is doing in the mirror. This invariably leads to me looking like I am HORRIFICALLY PISSED OFF during the entire haircut. So then I sit there, blind and terrified to speak, worried that everything the situation I am in is making me do… is making said situation worse, while having the added benefit of making the person holding blades near my head and face uncomfortable and annoyed. Cool brain, right? Please contain your brain related jealousy.

The third issue of mine this comic illustrates is that not everyone immediately understands how fantastically hilarious I am. In fact, some go so far as to interpret my HILARIOUS JIBES as ACTUAL RUDENESS or HURTFUL INSULTS. I am much better and not saying everything I want to say now than I was 10 years ago, but I still manage to show my disdain for smallness talkings in an incredibly effective manor to anyone who attempts to engage me in the littlest of tiny speech.

I wrote the idea for this strip over a year ago, and when I sat down last night to draw it, I realized some ways in that comic Joel does not in fact WEAR glasses. This sort of undermined my plans and required a bit of a reimagining of the problem at hand. I should point out, should she ever end up reading this, that my current stylist is the first person to ever cut my hair that I actually enjoy talking to.



Underneath The Misanthropy-toe


I’m a people person. Wait, what I mean to say is, “I’m a people, person.” As in, “Hey, you person, I am a people so please afford me the basic courtesy of never speaking to me, making eye contact with me or acknowledging our simultaneous existence in any way. Thanks.”

I do not care for small talk. I find something repulsive and detestable about a stranger feeling so uncomfortable with a shared silence that they feel the need to strangle it to death with meaningless words. It’s like they notice the presence of another human and their lizard brain immediately commands them, “MAKE NOISE! MAKE NOISE TO SEEM SCARY OR IT WILL EAT YOU! ALSO MAKE YOURSELF BIG! LOOK BIGGER AND MAKE NOISE AND YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS!” I love conversation, but I love for it to be real; to have a purpose.

HEY HEY HEY: Go check out my Patreon. Fancy Patrons and potential Fancy Patrons alike should also check out the new Patreon community guidelines.


I’m even happy with casual conversation from a stranger, if it has a purpose. “Am I near the dog park?” “How do you get there?” “Have you seen my dog?” “WHERE AM I?! WHERE IS MY DOG?! WHERE I AM GOING?! HOW DID I GET… oh, there’s my dog. Come along, Crackers.” These are purposeful words. These words are unlike, “Hey… Mondays, am I right?” “That’s some weather we’ve been having.” and “Big plans for the weekend?” You can probably tell that my most frequent exposure to this smallest of talk was in elevators back when I had a regular job. There’s something about elevators that squeezes words out of people like a long since empty tube of toothpaste. There’s nothing in there, but you squeeze and fold and force it none the less until something, anything comes out. In these circumstances, I wouldn’t even mind the small talk if it was just honest. “How about that crippling despair that’s been going around?” “That’s some irreversible damage we’ve done to the only planet we have; the only home our children and our children’s children will inherit, am I right?” “You got any plans for the unending nothingness that awaits us all upon our deaths?”

It’s holidays times, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that I have an Amazon Wishlist for any of you who are interested in such things.