In the spirit of Black History Month and for the cause of ethnic diversity, we here at Sinfest have a few suggestions:
1) Jesse. New NBC sitcom starring the Reverend Jesse Jackson and his wild and crazy escapades as a swinging bachelor! Keep hope alive, baby!
2) Shakespeare on Telemundo. Sample monologue: "To be or not to be, holmes. That eez the ques-chun, comprende? Word."
3) Harry Potter and the Pips. Latest from the best-selling series. This time Harry is joined by a group of soulful backup singers and together they do battle with the evil Kenny G.
4) Magic Eye Hentai Posters. Hang them at work and watch the merriment ensue!

Like Steven Seagal, I'm a spiritual leader renowned the world over, beloved by the masses far and wide. Accordingly, seekers of truth come to me and ask the Big Questions. "What is the meaning of life?" "How should one live?" "Briefs or boxers?" And my answer is always the same. {insert Indian sitar music} "You must follow your own path, young Padawan, like in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. Remember those? Them's good readin'. One book, multiple plot options. Pure genius. I used to read ahead and then select the best storyline. Hee hee. So anyway, that's the meaning of life. Now go and be as one." {gong sounds, birds chirping}

Now for the fake news: Imagine! Your business advertised right here in this very column, which boasts a readership well into double digits! No jive, baby. We command the choicest consumer demographics cuz we are phat and fly and hip like that. For real! So act now! We'll get you hooked up on our product placement program, as I dig in to a delicious McRib® sandwich, which is back for a limited time, and wash it down with the refreshing taste of Royal Crown® cola. Whoops, spilled some on my Adidas® sports jersey! (See how that works?) Call now! Operators are standing by!

Bubba has left the building: Sex, drugs, and rock & roll is officially out of the White House. Gone are the days of wine and doobies, when a boy named Bill ruled the Beltway, when his "wife" frantically shredded documents in the next room while a chunky intern did unspeakable things with the aforementioned doobie. Gone are the Aww-Shucks-Golly-Gee-Whiz speechifying, the late night Oval Office booty calls, and all the fast food take-out you can eat. Ah, we sure had fun, didn't we? In fact, the nation was so determined to keep the party going it failed to turn up a new leader--until the Men in Black Robes settled it behind closed doors. So now we move on. Good-bye Slick Willy; Hello Clueless George.

I have a dream that this nation will lay down that boogie and play that funky music till we die. So let freedom ring from the Hollywood sign in Tinseltown. Let freedom ring from the Sears Tower in the Windy City. Let freedom ring from Lady Liberty, that fine piece of ass up in Gotham. Let freedom ring from the neon desert of Sin City. Let freedom ring from the French Quarter in the Big Easy. When we let freedom ring from every ghetto and every slum, every 'burb and every 'hood, we will be able to speed up that day when all children of the atom, mutants and non-mutants, the old school and the new wave, SuperFriends and the Power Puff Girls, will join hands and sing in the words of that James Brown classic: He ain't no drag--Papa's got a brand new bag! Ungh! Good God!

Resolutions for 2001:
· Finish my memoirs, TI: The Man, The Myth, The Mojo
· Wrestle an alligator.
· Get in touch with the Jedi within.
· Use my powers for good.
· Kick ass.
· Rock.
· Continue to enchant and delight the ladies
with my awesome pimp powers.
· Work on that humility thing.
· Let the dogs out again.
· Remember that wherever you go, shit happens.
· Give props where props is due.
· Say it like it is and go with the flow.
All right. Let's do this thing.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We have run about the hood
And watched the cars go by;
We've wander'd in our worn out Pumas,
Since days of auld lang syne.
We have walked 'neath sneakers flung
High on telephone lines,
We've stomped around our stomping grounds
Since days of auld lang syne.
So here's a hand, my dear friend,
And give a hand o' thine;
We'll take a dime bag o' kindness yet,
For days of auld lang syne.

Politics 2000 is revving up, so I thought a commentary might be in order, this being a political column and all. Hell, let's unveil the Sinfest manifesto. To wit: We are radically pro-this, moderately anti-that, and definitely, emphatically pro-those. We believe music can change the world and art can heal your soul. We believe in the Tao of Pooh and the Word of Allah, as we follow the Noble Eight-Fold Path to Vatican City where we'll have a Kosher meal at a Japanese Tea Ceremony, then go joyriding in the Popemobile with a bunch of gypsies who believe in the Force. We'll catch a matinee of the Holy Trilogy and rest after the seventh hour. And when it is done we will say, "It is good."

Fame is something which must be won; honor is something which must not be lost.-Schopenhauer
Backlash is a rite of passage, a trial by fire to test one's media mettle. An up-and-comer must suffer through scathing reviews, mudslinging rants, and endless derision. The backbiting from colleagues can be especially demoralizing, but chances are, no worse than the youthful shit I've done (and no doubt yet to do). Such is the way of a Jedi pimp, sworn to protect a world that fears and hates him. He knows the path is not always strewn with rose petals and well-wishers, but sometimes gets blocked by trolls and naysayers. So be it! Nobody said it was gonna be easy, so onward ho! Advance on the chaos and the dark!

The Sinfest Store is up. Regrettably, there are no puppets, weapons, or inflatable dolls. For some inexplicable reason Cafe Press does not offer any of these items. But we're confident they'll come to their senses sooner or later and expand their catalogue to accommodate our modern needs. Yes, I can see it now... Sinfest bongs! Monique edible pajamas! Pimp Ninja samurai swords! Junkie Ranger action figure with pump-action syringe! Whoa Nellie! Talk about leaving the world better than you found it!

Web comics is grass-roots, word-of-mouth, guerrilla-style 'tooning, where audience participation is key. Fans support sites by clicking ads, even if they haven't the slightest inclination to check out Whatevertheshit Online Enterprises. Still others stuff the ballot boxes at Top Site lists, or spam chatrooms with URLs. The Sinfest readership has been exorbitantly generous in this regard, and I just wanted to let you know it hasn't gone unnoticed. It's damn cool to have that kind of support. Mad love and big thanks for all the pimpwork, you bunch of loony fanboys and girls!

Just spent four days at the San Diego Comic Con, and it was a blast. I went to several panel discussions, you know, to prepare for that day I myself take the podium and address my very own doting audience of supple, throbbing groupies. As I listened in on heavyweights like Scott McCloud rail away on big important sounding issues, I thought to myself, "Man, I'd look good up there. I should wear red. Yes. Lots of red." And I'll have to assemble a crack entourage of goons with headsets and several dancing girls with jiggle capability. Before my panel discussion, the lights would go down, strobe lights flare, the beat sounds and it's hype time to do a little dance, make a little love...

People say to me, "Tatsuya, how do you stay so fresh and original?" And I says to them, "By avoiding cliches and never biting others." And then the people say to me, "That's righteous, man." And I says back to the people, "Yeah, dig it. I lay off the formulaic, the rehashed, recycled remake--that tired, trite, typical tripe, ya know, and I steer clear of the beaten path and take the road less traveled by, which makes all the difference, see, cuz consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds and with great power comes great responsiblity, so do unto others as you would have done to you, and to thine own self be true, cuz baby, you're a star.

The word used most often to describe me would have to be "pimp-daddy-licious." Mostly cuz of my plumed sequin fedora, which has become my personal trademark. But I think what really grabs people is my ninja outfit. It's top of the line. People snicker when they see me at cocktail parties; others say mixing Eastern and Euro motifs is a fashion faux pas. But these knuckleheads are just jealous they didn't think of it first. Feudal glam is the hottest fashion craze since Madonna's "skanky gold digger" look of the 80s, and has spread throughout youth culture. Pretty soon teachers, postal workers, and air traffic controllers will be in full dress ninja garb with ostrich feather boas. You watch

Technical difficulties have forced me to frequent a local computer outlet to upload new strips. For some reason my computer won't connect me to the internet, so I apologize in advance for any updating problems. Comes with the territory , I guess, but it's still a bitch in drag. It's not to be mentioned how these minor setbacks trigger persecution anxiety "Why me? Sweet baby Jesus, why ME!", and conspiracy theories "My enemies seek to thwart me yet again... But I shall foil their evil plan and emerge victorious. Oh yes I shall!" Which is all delusional nonsense, I'm well aware. Computer problems are caused by alpha transmissions from the alien mothership. Everyone knows that.