It's only funny to a few people.



For those of you astute observers just packed into my already legion of unruly audience subjects, you may have noticed some things that might have actually happened, but might not, depending on where you were on that one day when that shit went down. You will be missed.

For the rest of you, however, I bring a gift: A Serenity Rose fan-art piece that didn't suck! I am enjoying it even now, with a warm cup of something steamy and a book of ideologically questionable origins (Are you seeing a pattern yet, pious ones?) And indeed, it is good, with all the milk and honey to spare.

I am currently making a runaround attempt at filling in my backlog of drawing reference, that of which I have indeed converted to neat little paper-sized bites. I do so much more enjoy that of the material quality portrait, than, say, something full of pixels and lies, lies of power and juiciness, enough to feed a small coastal village for years. Perhaps someday I will succumb to your unscrupulous and nefarious goings-on, but for now, I will stubbornly refuse, taking on the shape of yet another boulder in your road of life.

I really have no way to end this, so I take a small bow.