I had originally intended this week's comic to be a flash game mimicking the 1980s classic atari game "Kaboom!". Since I've got a crap fair coming up in a week, I decided that I will condense the comic into the critical elements and reward your employers by not seizing hours of productivity. I may still work on it in a different form: The intent was to create a text file of anxieties that are achievable, and anxieties that you will not be able to deal with. The anxieties are then bombs and the burglar would automagically save the bombs that you can, and the ones that you can't... well bombs do certain things when left lit long enough.

By the way, the crap fair is Saturday and Sunday December 9th and 10th from 12pm to 5 pm at Pulaski Park Fieldhouse 1419 W. Blackhawk in Chicago.

Turkey for me, turkey for you. This one's a turkey. The story arc over the summer and beginning of fall is over, so unprepare yourself for regularity and normality. More story arcs will follow, but seeing as how the Postmodern Sideshow is going to be in another crap fair December 9th and 10th, we figured upon playing fast and loose.

This week's comix is a delightful piece of etiquette which is not observed at my office place. Thank you for your hate-mail in advance.

This comix centers around the topic of waiting in line for video game systems (indirectly). I spent my Saturday night waiting with a friend to pick up a nintendo wii. Mind you, we didn't stand in a line. We participated in that modern miracle that is pre-sale. A unit was guaranteed by offering money in advance. How this concept had avoided the people 100 yards away befuddles me. I'm almost positive that the tents they were camping in were purchased from the very Target that they camped outside. I wonder how well those tents will hold after the apocalypse.

After getting the unit home, we spent the first 20 minutes connecting to ye olde wireless hot-spot and setting up the infernet to look at porn. While we were able to download two updates to the system, we were alerted that the "internet channel" was unavailable at this moment. An odd business decision, but I'm sure they have the ability to flaunt the channel upon it's opening. Perhaps during a particularly heated moment of wario ware.

Devastated that we couldn't spend our first moments using the wireless caucasian phallus to navigate the tender curves and valleys of nubility, we pressed on and played an actual game.

About ten minutes into the Wii Sports Tennis match, I interrupted to point out something rather disturbing. We were standing. That's right. We were both standing up playing a video game. The same continued for boxing where our nerded shells were taxed to the point of BREATHING HEAVILY. It made my skin crawl when I realized that I was being tricked into exercising. Needless to say, I felt dirty.

I passed out at about the two hour mark after having split most of a pony-keg with my partner in crime.

I crawled off the couch in the wii hours of the morning for the walk of shame home. I was wii-less, but was highly tempted to wave $300 towards the local video game retailer. Unfortunatley, I would have to wait for more units to arrive.

As our story arc draws closer to a conclusion, we, the citizens of the world, have received an early christmas present. It seems that our boys in blue (states) have managed to finally wrest congressional control from the Neo-cons. Now, don't get me wrong. I fully expect them to fuck it all up and cede power back to the strange strategies of Karl Rove and company. But for these few months, I can dream a little dream.

For those of you who protest my leftist views, I am willing to permenantly eschew gun control, universal health care, and welfare just so long as those creeps in power never return. Hell, throw in a tax cut, what do I care.

Quick update on the new site: Progress has been made. Hacking was done. Weekends and evenings has been sacraficed. You will enjoy it, and soon.

Be careful for what you wish, for you may get it in the end.

Today was a good day. I took a 1/2 vacation day from my day job and fought with the latina, polish, asian housefrau in a battle-royale that is 1/2 off day at the thrift store. Granted there were ancients accompanying the matriarchs. There were small children. But my main opponents in the quest to emerge with a shopping cart piled high to resemble a small mountain, my main opponents were the haus frau.

They started with an indirect assault by stirring up the goods, releasing the dangerous combination of dust and farts. I countered by going back in time and showing up before the calamity convened.

I was much less lucky in the second, third, fourth, and fifth thrift shops I visited (for surely it was a city-wide sale). It was always a twenty minute wait for a cart. Each time a victorious queen of conservation would show up in a ginormous cart filled to the brim with yuppie castoffs and fourth-rate clothing, I would be next in line. I was repeatedly thwarted by aging people raped by the passage of time, and overly bitchy manipulators used to getting their own way. I rewarded the former for putting up with a lifetime of crap by yielding my cart. The latter, I rewarded their impatience by following them around the store and slipping useless things into their cart.

In the end, I emerged, wrapped in my trophy of victory (only $0.50!!). I have the dress shirts necessary for screenprinting. It will be a mighty fine time. Keep your peepers scanning this site, for we will unleash a new round of screenprinted dress shirts suitable for the office.

The exiting conclusion of the karaoke battle. Again. I hope that these songs get stuck in your head.

I'm hacking up a lung with sickness, so find your literary entertainment elsewhere on la internet.

The very same day I sketched this, the bar we were planning on going to had live-band karaoke. I tried making another sketch the next day of me winning the lottery and flying around in a helicopter with a bunch of hos. That hasn't happened yet. Read the comic and watch Pillhead and his opponent duke it out in a Karaoke Battle Royal.

I coined a word: "chocument". As in a chocolate document. Google it. Yup. I'm number one. Well, I'm the only one. I'd buy one. It'd be delicious! In 50 years, when all of our books are printed on biodegradable milk chocolate paper, you will thank me.

• Comix
• Tshirts
• Subversive Dress Shirts
• Magnets (and Magnetic Ribbons)
• Pop-Art
• Political Crap.

This comic is based on the bourgeois pricing of the Playstation 3. I would go to ridiculous lengths to obtain a PS3. I will not, however fork out the $600, plus $50 in tax (like my local and state governments really bothered with the circuit design), more money for controllers, more money for games, and more money for delivery food service for a month. I like games, but not that much.

Watch Pillhead duke it out with a martial arts master. Come back next week for more skin bruising and magical action.

The Postmodern Sideshow is recoiling from the perils of the Renegade Craft fair still. Also, we are evaluating a new web-design, complete with new server, storefront, and all sorts of amazing mumbo jumbo. The only thing that is holding us up is the engine for the comix. In case you hadn't noticed, that is the bread and butter of this site (for now).

For those nerds who are interested, we are currently using some antiquated and custom perl to patch the site together. This works fine for the comix, but it is keeping us from reliably posting other material (music, art, news, happenings, collaborations, etc). We assure you that the baby will not be thrown out with the bathwater.

The other neat thing is that instead of coming from one singular royal voice, all the editors of the postmodern sideshow will have their own user accounts and you can see who is posting what.