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Pokemon GO has become a durable event at Chez Gabir, and with that comes engagement with the game beyond just putting a little English on a pokeball and bouncing it off a beast's head. I hope the suggestion in panel three is only a gentle jest, because the pocket monster he left there is essentially a bug made out of fire. Or vice versa. I guess. The forbidden hot pocket! Mayhap the hottest pocket known to man.

Gabriel's been tormented by Madden Ultimate Team long enough for us to have a chorus of strips about it, and we have penned a new entry in the canon.

Actually being old I can't speak to. But Getting old is really interesting. I mean, if you're me. If you aren't me, maybe the hellscape of degradation that our culture constantly heaps on you for having the temerity to not die can find purchase. There's a lot of people trying to make me ashamed of various things and then trying to sell me chemicals to manage them, and while I appreciate the hustle I'm simply too far along whatever kind of spectrum it is to yield to this kind of manipulation. It isn't possible to not age; I never thought I would remain the same. That's what would be weird, in fact: to endure raw time and the obvious, profound insincerities of existence and be recognizable at the end. It's psycho shit; I don't honor it.

You never know what you're gonna get from a Netflix Original. Or, maybe you know exactly, and it suppresses your expectations down to the level where it can be consumed without harm. Their Sony shit kinda pops, though. They delivered authentic quarantine thrills with The Mitchells vs. The Machines, and Sony Pictures Animation's KPop Demon Hunters(?!) made such an impact that it and its pretend bands are getting a theatrical release. I know about it from the girls on my block of course, but once Mork finally gave up on the Fandango at Home app they decided to watch the first thing that came up on Netflix. Then, when they woke up, they watched it again.