We have an art show up at Star Clipper Comics in St. Louis until January 29.
We came, we saw, we spread prints all over the floor of the gallery.
Then manager type folks A.J. and Jim were all, like, "Those are supposed to go on the wall." Whatever y'all.
So we put the stuff on the wall via a system of pulleys using fishing wire, binder clips, magic, seven pints of rubber cement, hope, gumption, and thumbtacks.
Meanwhile, the siren's song of the comics lilted in from the shop, enticing us to crash the ships of our wallets against the shoals of the register, drowning in the whirlpool of an overextended metaphor.
Here, John pees himself in terror, for reasons known only to him.
Here, Damian stands next to the Octoclown screen prints, so his self-urination totally makes sense.
John's brother Derick came through not once but twice, with newborn son King in tow.
More pictures to come, especially a picture of a dude named Aaron we promised the fame and fortune of a J2D2 blog post appearance, but now, gotta go see Avatar. Hoping it's more Aliens or Abyss than Titanic. Fingers crossed.