SO, (heh heh,) CBH is tagging in, and we’re back in Crankshaft, back in the McKenzie’s attic, and back in the glorious year of 2007, (for now.)
Eric ‘Mooch’ Myers is gushing about some 60-year-old comic books with more passion and devotion than we could ever expect him to show a lover.
And, for whatever reason, yes we are STILL in the attic.
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CBH at the helm for this one. And FIRST OF ALL.
We’ve reached the maximum busy season for farm work here in CBHville. Where we are trying to simultaneously finish planting beans, chop rye hay, spray weeds, apply fertilizer, care for cows, AND (most daunting of all) clean my parent’s basement for my sister’s family to arrive for Memorial Day.
I was feeling overwhelmed.
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THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL POST.
PLEASE DO NOT TAKE THIS BIT OF NONSENSE AS CBH MAKING ANY KIND OF POLITICAL STATEMENT.
THE BRAIN WORMS MADE ME DO IT.
BATIUK SET THIS IN MOTION.
I ONLY GAVE LIFE TO WHAT HE SPIRITUALLY CONCIEVED.
DO NOT ARGUE ABOUT POLITICS HERE.
IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO ARGUE ABOUT WHAT DID OR DIDN’T OR SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED ON JANUARY 6, 2021, PLEASE GO TO GO COMICS. THERE IS A HOT SPICY THREAD JUST WAITING FOR YOU.
(If you would like to discuss how tone deaf, baffling, and awkward Friday’s Crankshaft was, you can stay.)
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Though you Beady-Eyed-Nitpickers have done a bang up job with your Cranky commentary this week, I promised you a weekly Crankshaft Post. So here it is!
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Son of Stuck Funky 