A comic about life, love, death, and anagrams, in about three colors.
I used to eat Caesar salads. With anchovies.There was something romantic aboutsharing the discerning tastes of theeponymous emperata. Then one day I discovered the salad wasactually named after Caesar Cardini, achef from Tijuana. I was devastated, buttruth isn't democratic. I haven't been able to eat saladsince. It just hurts too much. Don't you have an off button?

Ides of March


I was waxing arcane with a coworker once when she asked me, “How exactly do you talk to cute girls?”

I thought about it for a moment and answered, “Depends on the girl.”

Then I thought about it some more and realized that probably wasn’t true.

Curiosity is my blessing and it is my curse.

As for mistaken assumptions about Caesar salads, I am reminded of a story that has nothing to do with Caesar or gastronomy: A student once approached a philosopher, and enthusiastically proclaimed, “How stupid people must have been, thinking the sun went around the earth!” The philosopher stoically nodded and said, “Perhaps. But I wonder what it would look like if the sun did go around the earth.”

Fuck salads.

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