San Francisco’s Bonds

I was just a kid when Charlie Hustle played in Philly, and Rose and Schmidt were neck and neck as the best players that ever lived for most of my life. I remember in detail exactly how crushing it was when Pete Rose was kicked out of baseball, so it’s with no small amount of empathy that I can relate to San Francisco’s Bonds

In other news

We figured out what was wrong with the home phone – the plug had somehow disconnected itself from the wall. The difference between Thursday (when I worked) and yesterday (when I was off) was actually having the time to check the wall plug. (And even then I take too much credit – Nighthawk found and corrected the problem.)

Comics are queued up through May 9, which means I can concentrate on other projects for about a week before I dive back into that. I have a good comfortable 5-strip buffer right now and I want to maintain at least that. If somehow I can write another 5 strips next weekend we’ll really be cooking with gas.

The Phils were rained out and the Flyers lost. The crowd in the Buffalo Sabres arena won no bonus points with me by getting all ramped up and cheering when we had a man down on the ice. If Philly fans did that, it’d be all over the sports newswire tomorrow – I hope ESPN and the like play fair and point out Buffalo’s behavior as well.

We’re supposed to get thunderstorms tomorrow (er, today). I like that.

I’ve reached the point of tired where my fingers look fascinating. In fact, they feel kind of numb. Maybe a marathon comic session wasn’t the best of plans.