The march of the redshirts … is over
by Tom Crippen
I’ve decided to leave the HU. My thanks to Noah, always a patient and generous host and the only man who could get me to look straight on at a page drawn by Harry G. Peter. I will also miss Kinukitty and her reviews of those comics about the skinny fellows who like to hang out together. Her jokes made me laugh, which is a rare thing.
The good news is that Wiki Trek, my personal adventure in OCD, will no longer drape itself over your long-suffering screens. The bad news is that I must sacrifice exposure to treasures of discourse that have brightened my life: the roly-poly prose of stately fangirls, the inane yipping of outraged fanboys, the plaintive truculence of the man who can’t draw necks (though he’s learning Photoshop), and the sheer stupidity of the clod who came stumbling along five months after the Watchmen movie to tell Noah and me we were Bolsheviks because we didn’t like that three-story cloud of stink. Wherever you are, sir, I sincerely hope you go fuck yourself — for you are the true voice of the Internet.