I’m not kidding, this is a true story. I’m not this creative; but apparently, my subconscious is . Freud would have a field day. He would say that the robots represent my desire not to interact with real humans, that the flamethrowers represent my inner conflict, and that somehow all this translates into why I want to have sex with my mother or something. Freud was a sick bastard.

I was, of course, very disappointed with how Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles ended. I seriously think they ended Season 2 thinking they were going to get the go-ahead for Season 3, considering the gaping holes left behind. (And what the hell was up with John Connor molesting his Terminator?! That was super weird. >.> ) *sigh* Oh well. I’m hoping that Terminator: Salvation will fill in some of these holes, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe if I get some resolution and closure, I’ll stop having these bloody dreams.

One thing I’ve learned from these dreams, though, is that I’ve found that I really like having robot friends. I think growing up with Voltron, Transformers, Robotech and Terminator, combined with lack of playmates as a child has given me the predisposition to be attracted to this idea. If I had any resource or any remote knowledge of artificial intelligence, I would totally build myself a robot friend–not in the Weird Science sort of way, but more in the South Park AWESOM-O kind of way.

Who’d need real friends?! =P

Today’s comic is partly autobiographical in the sense that I’ve spent some of my recent days wallowing in my own dirt, reliving my childhood and watching Xena and Jem. Arlo is still very much alive, with head attached. =P I don’t know what got me watching Jem again, but as a kid, I didn’t have much appreciation for it, and I never paid attention to how violent this show was. The Misfits almost kill someone in, like, EVERY episode, and no one ever called the cops on them. Now, as an adult, I realize the magic that is Jem and the Holograms. The show was ahead of its time, and so mind-boggingly ridiculous that it’s awesome–or dare I say, TRULY OUTRAGEOUS! See for yourself!

Dude, the Misfits have motorcycles SHAPED LIKE GUITARS. GUITARCYCLES. And Xena, well, she’s just plain phenomenal. To this day, I still want to be her, flipping around and cutting off the bloodflow to people’s brains. No, I do not have cabin fever. >.> Edit: It has been brought to my attention that it was in fact Dynamowolf who sparked the Jem revival. Go send him hate mail for getting the theme song stuck in our heads.

Finally, this story is over, GAWD.

However much I just absolutely loathe shoujo manga, I’ve always wanted to draw in the style. I think it’s pretty. THERE, I admit it. It’s support of my attempt to convey that I am not that man-ish. So without further ado, I present my gift to you–crazy, cracked-out, shoujo-mangafied Race!

Done in ink and watercolor.

But you can keep your coitus to yourself, thanks. Happy Valentine’s Day.