Category: Visual Arts

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp! And Sunday Comics mine! And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Cold winds are howling, or could that be growling? Sunday Comics drawn…My-my, oh me-my, kindly will you reply: Is that you, Santa Claus?

Nathalie Rosa Bucher explores the graphic journalism of the Middle East.

Sunday Comics: One mans waste is another mans soap, sons fan base know the brotha man’s dope. A real weirdo with a bug rare flow and the way his hair grow was ugly as a scarecrow. He wears a mask so the charge won’t grab on a rooftop with a large stone slab. Heads up, talk white and thought *erish — refuse to walk tight and got his off the vigorous’h. Black licorice and equally as yucky, how he handled the money was strictly Dan Stuckie.

Everybody needs a change, a chance to check out the new. But you’re the only one to read new Comics that drop Sundays true! Don’t you worry ’bout a thing, cuz we will have all these to read when you check them out.

Es el tiburón que duerme Sunday, es el tiburón que lee los Comics/Es el tiburón que va asechando, es el tiburón de mala suerte/¿Tiburón que busca en la orilla? ¡Tiburón, lo tuyo es mar afuera!

Those who have seen the needle’s eye now tread like a husk from which all that was — now has fled. And the masks that the monsters wear to feed upon their prey…Wandering stars, for whom it is reserved, the Sunday Comics forever.

I like people there, the ones who can’t stand — they’re the ones who can’t stand. I see smoke signals coming from them. They say, “we’re all out of Comics, sir.” Stand on your own head, for a change; give me some skin to call my own.