Defenestration

Bag of Boners Part One: Let’s Get Clickety-Clacking

Bag of Bones is a glorious hodgepodge of scene chewing, nonsensical dialogue and a plot that was sunk into a cavern full of foot cheese. It’s like A&E needed an idea, snorted some paint and stumbled into its hand carved bookcase, knocking Stephen King’s award-winning Bag of Bones right onto its jeweled talons (all television [...]

I Wanted A Ham Sandwich

So here we are: the first Ben & Winslow comic of the new year. I’ve stuck to familiar themes of eating and monsters, which will hopefully lull you all into a false sense of security. Because strange stuff is afoot. Strange stuff is always afoot in the Ben & Winslow universe, but still. Don’t want you getting scared away early on.

Dudebros: A Field Guide

I have noticed that my office has lately had an upswing of dudebros. You tend to not notice just one or two – polo shirts happen, everything’s cool – but when they start to congregate it gets very obvious that you’re in the middle of a Situation (and if you say that to a group [...]

“Hot Girl Seeking Cool Nerd,” by Laura Davy

In response to RedShirt69, I’m a hot girl and I love nerds.

You say you’re into video games, I say, “Wow, I totally love them too!” If you’re into fantasy novels, that just shows we have a magical spark. Who doesn’t like role playing games?

I’m the ideal girlfriend for a nerd. I always watch SyFy original movies! Well, as long as I’m not busy that night. And there’s nothing better on TV. And I’ve had two or three glasses of wine.

Fiscal Responsibility

I wanted to end the year with a sunset. So I drew a sunset. And something extra. See if you can find out what it is. It’s totally hidden. You’ll never really find it. Muahahahaha.

“A Sign of God,” by Matt Kolbet

The Westboro Baptist Church has gained a certain degree of notoriety for protesting both military and celebrity funerals. Their attempts at linking all deaths to God’s condemnation of America’s laxity towards sin have, unfortunately, become hackneyed. Their most typical signs read: God Hates Fags or Thank God for Dead Soldiers. What’s most shameful about these placards is not so much the vitriol of the sentiments, but rather the missed opportunity.

Yuletide Disappointment

So here is the result of Winslow’s request of Santa. You didn’t really think Santa would give Winslow Salma Hayek, did you? I mean, if he went to all that trouble to kidnap Salma Hayek, he would totally keep her for himself.

Defenestration: December 2011

So. Here we are at last. You, me, maybe some snow, and this: the December 2011 issue of Defenestration. It smells like pine needles and pinecones and pine-scented floor cleaners. Very piney. Pinish? That sounds awful. But the smell? Ridiculishious.

You might be thinking, “This is a winter issue,” which is true if you don’t live in like, Australia, where everyone is wearing bathing suits and taking photos of themselves in bathing suits and them uploading them to [insert social networking site here] so all their American friends (they don’t have any other friends) can feel sad about everything. That’s a very Australian thing to do, I’ve heard. Anyway. You might be thinking “This is a winter issue,” which is true, only not really. In fact that’s wrong. Totally wrong. Nothing in this issue has anything to do with winter. In fact, if we were going to choose a theme for this issue, it would be poop.

“What to do when Joelene comes calling,” by Rijn Collins

It was April when it began.

It might have started earlier, but that was when I noticed the first sign. I was chatting to my mother, the phone in one hand and a pen in the other. It was only when I hung up that I looked down and saw, in thin black strokes, that I’d absently drawn a round little banjo.

And that’s how it started.

“The Pests from Beyond,” by Ryan Currier

When ghosts moved into my house, my first thought was live and let live. Actually, my first thought was, Great, here comes the dementia. My second thought was that I was the victim of some kind of perverted trick, played out by one of my friends. I hoped it was my perverted friend Bob, so I could flatten his nose so bad he’d only smell lip.

But no, these were definitely ghosts.