The comic contains the word "heroin," which is a drug. We're aware. The joke is obviously not promoting drugs, but Meta's enforcement bots – which seem perfectly content to let right-wing hate speech flourish like mold in a dorm fridge – have decided otherwise. So we recommend that you subscribe to our newsletter before the bot overlords complete their inevitable takeover and we lose each other forever in the algorithmic void.
Meta has banned us from their monetization program for a comic where our Grim Reaper reassures a kid they won't die until they're very old, and the kid – processing this information with the flawless logic of someone whose prefrontal cortex is yet to develop – leaps off and shouts "Awesome! I'm gonna try heroin!"
We're doing something we usually don't do by giving you a peek behind the curtains. This is the stuff our beautiful supporters usually get for keeping us financially viable enough to joking around. Join the party and read the rest of the exclusive stories!
During our last cemetery séance, a wicked witch appeared in a cloud of smoke with a ghastly offer: Stop drawing comics forever, and she'd grant us a living wage.
We looked at each other and cackled maniacally: "Begone, foul temptress! Our patrons are the ones we answer to!" We told the witch: thanks to our Patreon subscribers, we ARE making a living with comics!
After over a decade of making this webcomic, we've learned two things: One, people love reading free content. Two, our creditors don't accept exposure as payment, despite our compelling arguments.
Our Patreon supporters get early access, behind-the-scenes content, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing they're keeping us just functional enough to continue making funnies.
We, Elizabeth and Jonathan, sign them with our own actual hands, the same hands that have shaken in caffeine-induced terror and absentmindedly petted stray cats – while thinking of stories that make you smile.
Now AI companies are scraping our "worthless" art to train billion-dollar generators. Apparently our work was valuable enough to steal, just not valuable enough to pay for. It's like being robbed by someone who insists they're doing you a favor by "increasing your exposure."
Having 1 million followers is like throwing confetti into a hurricane: people cheer, platforms profit, and you're left sweeping your own glitter off the floor. Everyone loves the art, shares it, while we're over here perfecting the art of checking our bank balance with one eye closed.