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Poor Billy. His version of the Holy Ghost is an old coot residing in his head that, over two thousand years later, remains bitter about the crucifixion. Apparently the resurrection didn’t make things better. For him it’s a story of too little too late. Billy is a one-note Debbie Downer type that will be forever stuck in his role until I stick a pointy pen in his heart and end him.
A few years ago one of my friends had a son who couldn’t keep his hands off his penis. Every time my friend would turn around, his son had his hands down his pants tugging away. At home, in public, everywhere. Once, while on a plane, my friend was busy reading when the flight attendant tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to his son sitting beside him. His son had his pants pulled down to his knees as he was tugging away at his little willy. Of course I found this all hilarious and quickly invented a boy superhero called Solo Boy — who’s one super power is playing with himself. The set up for Solo Boys comics are always the same. The panels don’t change — only the dialogue.
Order “The Underworld: From Hoboken to Hollywood” the omnibus collection of the very best of the strip’s 23-year run, with annotations, photos, and other surprises from the author (along with a foreword by Mutts creator Patrick McDonnell).