Thursday, April 21, 2011

Better Days

     Some of you may consider me without a heart. Not true. During my freshman year of college, my first love was a Scottish girl in my philosophy class. Day after day, I would attend that course just so I could hear that wonderful lilt in all her words. One time she asked me, "Who are yew?" I had to excuse myself to the bathroom for 15 minutes. Fuck me.

    I had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out for coffee. We had a lovely conversation about how confused Ayn Rand was, and I will admit, most of what I had learned was from second-hand accounts of her books as well as Bioshock. Regardless, I was hooked. I asked her out on a second date, and unfortunately, she declined, saying she doesn't "do that with students." I called her a stuck-up bitch and promptly left her office. True story.

    However, you cannot know love without hate. Just like love, the object you hate becomes your obsession. Just as the object of your love fills you with joy when they are happy, the object you hate fills you with joy when they are unhappy.

    My first hate was a horrendous furry fetish comic known as Better Days, written by ex-Kinko's manager, full-time second object of Skallagrimsson's hate, Jay Naylor. If  you're wondering where you have heard of him before, it's because everytime you vomit uncontrollably, you are subconsciously trying to associate it with his name.

    The first comic begins with the main character, Fisk talking to his sister, Female Fisk. The following strips have humor that is greeting card-worthy at best and Family Guy-worthy at worst. All in all, just your average, humorless furry comic, but then Fis-I mean, Naylor gives us a glimpse into his character.

    When I was rejected by my bonnie lass, I was upset, sure, but I didn't create a webcomic where I attempted to hamfistedly dissect her personality and explain the reason she rejected me was because she was a conniving, malicious, manipulative, deceitful harpy who unzips men's pants to merely devour their testicles, if only because the combination of fear, disappointment, loathing, and shock is the only thing that can get her off. Meanwhile, I'm sure Naylor is screaming into his pillow, "Why couldn't she just adore me for the beautiful, Randian, bestiality-drawing, humanity-loathing soul that I am?! CIIIIIINDY!"

    Next chapter once again shows us how much Naylor completely understands you wacky broads. These next few strips may seem benign, but go into Naylor's sketch blog or adult catalog, and you will learn his knowledge of the human foreskin encompasses that of an actual woman. As a side note, in this strip, Fisk is apparently being attacked by a couple of rabid dogs. However, later in the comic, we learn there are dog people as well as cat people, so the only two ways this strip can make sense are:

1. Naylor is a goddamn moron.


2. Fisk was assaulted by a couple of naked, rabid homeless men.

    I won't tell you which one is true, because I don't know for certain, but if I had to guess, Naylor is too stupid to come up with something that awesome.

    The art, well... it gets the job done... for the most part, in that I'm able to easily identify which character is which, but only because Naylor had the decency to color each one different. If he hadn't bothered to do a pallette swap of Fisk and Female Fisk for each character, I'd be wondering why Fisk is fucking his doppel-ganger until I remember I'm reading a furry comic.

    It reminds me of the original Mortal Kombat games where the developers were too lazy to create new characters, so they just did a couple dozen characters based off the same ninja sprite. However, Naylor has an entire chapter dedicated to Fisk playing chess, espousing views that are obviously Naylor's. If Naylor designed Mortal Kombat, when "FINISH HIM!" would appear on the screen, Scorpion would tell Sub-Zero how his point of view is only wrong from the perspective of his opponent, and how God is an opiate of man designed to placate and control the brilliant... and then he would pull out his throbbing, uncircumcised dick.

    But back to the art, if you'll notice, there is literally no difference between the art from the first strip to the last. It hasn't gotten worse, it hasn't improved, it's remained completely static over the course of six fucking years. Every character's face looks the same (as each other), they all still have stupid anime hairstyles, and even when Naylor draws humans, the eyes take up half their friggin' skull.

    So, I believe the central question to this diatribe is: Naylor, if you haven't taken those six years to improve your art style, then what the fuck have you been doing? You obviously haven't taken that time for character development, since the only thing required for that is regurgitating the pseudo-intellectual prose on your own Livejournal.

    You haven't been working on plot, since the only things that happen in this vapid saga of unenjoyment are plot points I came up with when I was 13, 'Okay, yeah, so then Christopher Skallagrumsson sees his mom getting raped, and Christina is all, 'We should call the cops,' and he's all, 'Fuck that shit!' and stops it with his baseball bat, then he has sex with a black girl, thus losing his virginity at age 10, and then all the girls in his school have the hots for him, and he has a huge dick, and he fights terrorists, and he inherits his father's legacy, and he becomes rich somehow, and he steals some dude's wife and fucks the shit out of her until he makes her realize that he's the only one who can make her happy, and he becomes *The* American Hero."

    Speaking of black people, did I mention there are black people in this comic? You may be thinking to yourself, "There's nothing wrong with that," and you are right, but the way Naylor portrays it is the equivalent of having Nas on your iPod and telling a random black guy you enjoy "his kind of music." In this universe, different ethnicities are portrayed as different kinds of animals. White people are dogs and cats, black people are hyenas (because they're from Africa), and Jews are short, disgusting, worm-tailed rodents who steal food from hard-working, honest cats and dogs and leave shit everywhere else. I mean, geez, Naylor. If you're going for offensive stereotypes, you might as well go all out.

    The racism gets worse. The predominant hairdo for the hyena girls are just the same anime dreadlocks, and while I'm sure the fact they all look the same is simply displaying Naylor's incompetence, I can't help but feel there are ulterior motives to this endeavor. Then again, Naylor is probably too stupid to know how to intentionally offend people.

    ...Still, the name of the first black girl in the story is "Shanikwa," for fuck's sake.
     Overall, Better Days is bad, most definitely, but it's certainly not the absolute worst furry comic out there (my associate has already covered that). If you can get past the objectivist preaching, the repetitive art, the completely interchangeable characters, the obvious self-insert/wish fulfillment, and the excruciating pace, then one of your hobbies most likely includes fucking dudes in fox suits, in which case, I kindly request you do what it is you do best and get fucked.

    This is the part where I click "post," you read it, and respond with a melting pot of emotions. So, without further ado, "Goodnight, all. Have many pleasant, degenerate dreams..."

    ... Is what I would have said, had Naylor not chosen to show us some good old-fashioned, Sweet Home Georgia traditions. I refuse to cry, "Oh, dear Lord," for I know he has abandoned me. Naylor, I refuse to address you as a rational human being. I am going to stop giving you proper criticism, because you have probably long ago forsaken any human language, since anytime you step into sunlight, the only time people address you is when they cry, "pervert," or when they're lynching you.

    You are such an imbecile, your mother couldn't even figure out how to give you Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I am going to make sure my children and all my friends' children are circumcised so they can't be used as your masturbation aides, and then I am going to give up all my sons for adoption just in case.

    Seriously, dude. What are your first dates like? Do you try your best to masquerade as a normal person, then you show her your handiwork, hoping her self-esteem will do a nose-dive once she realizes what kind of person she is for even considering you? I have half a mind to hook you up with Wocgirl. She has so many traits you would love:

1. She has a creepy, unnatural admiration for her own gender.

2. She is covered in a thick mat of animal-like hair.
     Karl was worried you two would figure out how to breed, but I know Wocgirl reproduces asexually, and you're so confused about your own sexuality, that you're still baffled why there isn't shit on your dick when you pull out of your girlfriend. For fuck's sake, the copy machines at your last place of employment knew more about writing than you. At least they admitted they were just making copies of the same characters.
     The anger I feel for you has usurped many of the emotions I used to feel. Now I won't even be able to feel happy when you develop carpal tunnel syndrome from years of jerking it while drawing. My anger will just continue to grow until I realize inflating your ego and complimenting your sordid assterpieces will just make it that much more satisfying if you were ever to climb to the height where you could crumble and fall.
     I have made more profound social commentary by taking a shit in public. The only thing coloring the images of your comics has accomplished is making my optic nerves send signals to my central nervous system, saying it's more harmful being able to comprehend your godawful pictures. If my readers haven't clicked on any links yet, I would strongly advise against it, unless they are certain they don't need their eyes anymore.  

     I'm honestly surprised your girlfriend hasn't said anything about the retardate that you consider story arcs, but then I remember her mom probably told her a while ago not to make fun of her brother.
I would like to continue, but this is all too much. The complexity of idiotic things that happen in the course of this story is on an epic scale. We are not finished, here, Naylor. Karl will see to that.

(Image courtesy of Chance Svavarsson)
Chapters: 1-13


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