Resistance back on the air. I was putting the finishing touches on Book Two when a platoon of stormtroopers raided my house, ransacked it, then drove me to a secret base in Area 51. They asked me what secret messages were contained in Book Two. I was like, I don't know what you're talking about. And they were like, Oh don't play dumb with me, Mr. Cartoonist Man. (They made those quotation mark gestures with their fingers when they said "Cartoonist.") So I went, Okay! Okay! I'll tell you everything. I'm a secret agent of planet Kissmyass. I use my comic strip as a platform to send coded messages to my fellow Kissmyassians! Rawr! Viva le Resistance! And they were like, Aha! I knew it! Alien scum! We got you now! So tell me, where's Planet Kissmyass? So I said to them, About twelve parsecs from planet Blowyourself, in the Iprobedyourmomma Galaxy. Decode that.

Whenever I play solitaire I play for world peace. Cuz otherwise it's a meaningless waste of time and I hate to waste my time. So I up the stakes. Make it interesting. Every move I make can be the difference between global harmony and nuclear annihilation. The fate of all mankind hinges on whether I go with the seven of spades or the jack of hearts. It's very intense. I sit there for hours sometimes planning my strategy. I have meetings with imaginary generals and military advisors. I take lengthy breaks to the patio, or, as I like to call it, Camp David. I can't tell you how many times I've blown up the world. It really pisses me off. I mean, not to sound like Miss America or nothing, but I'm all about the world peace. And when those cards fall into place and I disarm all them nukes and establish the Pax Tatsuya and usher in the Golden Age of Peace and Prosperity, I rejoice with all humanity and then move on to Minesweeper. Which, of course, I play for the rain forests.

On language. Language is a bridge to bring people together but it can also be a barrier that keeps them apart. Ivy Leaguers talk differently from gangstas. Gangstas talk differently from computer geeks. Computer geeks talk differently from jocks and so on and so forth. They each have their own code and their members honor that code. But sooner or later there emerges a diplomat from these diverse groups to close the gap between each other. Maybe some hip hopper with a passion for Chaucer and SAT words gets in good with the Yale crowd, thus bringing the hood and academia a little closer together. Or maybe a free-wheeling playa man macks with a devout social worker, thereby bridging the great divide between Babylon and Church. It's all about mixing it up, crossing over, and coming together. To open up and share with one another the code we live by.

On beauty. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It's a matter of taste. They say beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes way down to the bone. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. And Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships. There are exotic beauties. Hidden gems. Diamonds in the rough. The crown jewel. There are beauty queens. Ugly ducklings. Acquired tastes. Late-bloomers. Classic beauties. There are looks that kill. Looks to die for. Looks that turn heads and looks that stop traffic. But looks aren't everything. You can't judge a book by its cover. Cuz the prettier the face the dumber the head. But could be, they're more than just a pretty face. For beauty comes in all shapes and forms. And it's what's on the inside that really matters. For a thing of beauty is a joy forever. But remember: The star that burns brightest burns briefest. And every rose has its thorn.

Individuals are microcosms of society. Emotions are like the masses--excitable, diverse, fickle. The mind is like the ruling class, endlessly deliberating on how to deal with its subjects. Some people are police states, suppressing their emotions, punishing subversive elements, their militant ideals goosestepping in place. Others are like monarchies, full of pomp and ceremony, with royal heads of state presiding with laissez faire nonchalance. There are those who resemble anarchy, whose non-constitutions leave them in a perpetual state of chaos. Then there are the republics. Democratic souls with a system of majority rule, representation for all, where all the body's impulses are given a voice. But sometimes their emotions act like confused Florida voters and end up botching the whole decision making process. And of course, the potheads of the world represent a sort of fuzzy blissed out utopia, a place we all like to visit every now and then, but wouldn't want to get stranded there. Kinda like Amsterdam.

Movie Idea: Neo and John Connor join forces to fight the war against the machines. After an intense rave/orgy, they make plans for the upcoming battle. At the same time, the Matrix and Skynet sign a multi-billion dollar merger, spelling certain doom for the human resistance. After an intense rave/orgy, the corporate giants start production on a new line of Arnold Agents and Smith-inators. Meanwhile, back at the X-Mansion, Professor X uses Cerebro to notify all the mutants in the world about the upcoming Mutant Rave-o-thon Celebration 2003. After much Kung Fu, car chases, and explosions, everyone dies and meets God, who turns out to be Jim Carrey. "Alllllrighty then," says God, flanked by a cadre of Charlie's Angels. "Let's get this party started." And Neo's like, "God, why are you speaking through your buttocks?"

Dec 1999: After bingeing on Hostess Ho-Hos and Orange Bang Drink, Tatsuya Ishida suffers a massive brainfreeze and gets amnesia.
Apr 2000: While touring with the Ringling Brothers, Tatsuya is approached by a mysterious bald man in a wheelchair. "I can help you remember your past," he says. So Tatsuya flies to lower Manhattan to start his training as a mutant badass.
Sep 2001: At a Memphis rest stop Tatsuya is accosted by a mysterious bald man named Morpheus. "I can show you the way," he says. So he joins him and starts his training as a Kung Fu badass.
Jan 2002: After meeting with a mysterious bearded man in a robe, Tatsuya flies to the Dagoba System to receive his training as a Jedi badass.
May 2003: After completing his myriad training, Tatsuya suddenly remembers who he is, and goes back home to become a cartoonist.

Like Tiger Woods, I'm often criticized for not lending my voice to social causes. Which is preposterous when you consider my volunteer work with unwed mothers and nymphomaniacs. I've also lobbied for a National No Work Month and launched the Casino-On-Wheels Program to bring gambling to every suburb in the country. Yes. I have a vision for a better America. And of course, The Tatsuya Ishida Foundation works tirelessly to promote itself, no matter what the cost. It is this type of dedication that really touches people. The Foundation funds the wild life preserve for spring breaking collegiates, aerospace research to land the first manned aircraft on Uranus, and the School For The Extraordinarily Well Endowed, where buxom babes are trained to get along with other women who fear and hate them. So you see, I'm out there making a difference, giving back to the community. Cuz I'm all about the caring.

More Wartime News:
· Saddam sighting in Yemen: Scraggly fat man wearing nothing but a military beret seen bellowing, "A camel! My regime for a camel!"
· Bush denies reports that he hired psychic Miss Cleo to channel Alexander the Great. "I did not have psychic relations with Aunt Jemima," said chief executive.
· Peace movement dumps 700 megatons of flowers and olive branches over the Pentagon as part of "Soothe and Mollify" campaign.
· Fox News Network officially puts quotation marks around "News" and reporters will now do the finger-quoting gestures when saying the word.
· U.S. sets deadline; gives Kim Jong Il two weeks to trim his bouffant coif. Ever defiant, North Korean dictator switches to HerbalEssence for even more body and volume.

Wartime News:
· Former 3rd Rock from the Sun star French Stewart changes his name to Freedom Stewart. "It's my patriotic duty," says actor.
· Pro-neutral demonstrations get heated in Switzerland.
· U.S. Military orders 300,000 cans of whoop-ass. "There's a war in every can!"
· Rodney King still wondering why we can't all just get along.
· Geraldo Rivera reveals location of the Bat Cave. Is immediately banished from Gotham.
· "Operation: Iraqi Freedom" renamed "Operation: Who's Your Baghdaddy?"
· Latest Saddam video only available on Betamax. Is it up to date? Experts weigh in.
· Geraldo Rivera reveals Colonel's Secret Recipe. Is banned from all KFC establishments.
· "Axis of Evil" renamed "Bunch of Bastards."
· Geraldo Rivera goes into hiding. Then reveals his own undisclosed location.

Through the ages man has lamented the ephemeral nature of life. Everything dies, nothing lasts, all is subject to the ravaging force of Time. So steeled by this, the great minds of history set out in quest of the Undying, the Eternal, the Everlasting. They went looking for the Elysian Fields, lap up the Elixir of Life and bathe in the Fountain of Youth. Buddha called it Nirvana. Christ called it Soul. Plato put it in the form of a question and Shakepeare put it in rhyme. Ah, so innocent and naive was man in its youth... For look what we have now: Elysian Fields all gentrified with strip malls and multiplexes. The Elixir of Life comes in Tall, Grande, and Venti. The Fountain of Youth flows with Botox. And the souls of the departed go to Life Extensions...

The success of Tiger Woods in golf, Eminem in hip hop, and Yao Ming in basketball will open the door for more stereotype-bending figures. In the coming years, watch for:
· All black heavy metal band. Call them Blacksnake. Or Mos Def Lepperd. Or just Black Sabbath.
· Amish porn stars. They build their own sets. They bake their own bread. They plow their own hoes.
· Goth motivational speaker. "And now we summon the spirit of our dark lord to infuse us with the morbid desire to succeed."
· Communist Investment Broker. You're in good hands, with Police State.
· Punk Politicians. Johnny Rotten runs for President. Incites a riot when he moons Congress.
· Gay mafiosos. Their retro tommyguns are scented with potpourri. Their fight sequences are tightly choreographed. And when the action gets heavy they burst into flames.

On civilization. Long long ago some ape-man must have looked at his life, his existence, his family, his tribe, the world around him, and thought, "What the hell are we all doing here?" Cuz all this business with being born and growing up and procreating and surviving is, let's be honest, some pretty strange shit. And inquisitive minds want to know just where the heck it's all going. So the ape-man formed a committee and announced that we're all gonna keep this existence thing going until we figure it out, find out who's behind it all, and kick his ass. He made some rules to ensure the survival of his peeples. Don't hurt nobody. Don't kill nobody. Don't steal. And don't smoke the funny grass. And if you violate these rules, we will hurt you and kill you and steal your grass. It sounded like a good idea at the time, and the same rules survive to this very day with few modifications.

On love. They say it makes the world go round. Money can't buy it. And it conquers all. They say all is fair in love and war. So make love, not war. They say the first one always has a special place in your heart. They say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. They say love is blind. Love is colorblind. Love is a many-colored thing. There's first love, puppy love, platonic love, unrequited love, true love, unconditional love, love at first sight, the love of your life, the one you want your mama to meet, the one that got away... So we ride through the Tunnel of Love. Make out at Lover's Lane. Say our vows at the Chapel of Love. Take a cruise on the Loveboat and reserve the Honeymoon Suite. And sometimes we gotta stay at the Heartbreak Hotel. But hey, love is a battlefield. And I'm a soldier of love.

Things to ponder:
· What do streakers do at a nudist colony, run by fully clothed?
· Did George Washington and Benjamin Franklin walk around saying, "Dude, I am so money"?
· Do cows around the world view India as Cowtopia?
· Do antonyms persecute homonyms?
· Doesn't Emo sound like a Muppet character?
· How come every Tom, Dick, and Harry aren't named that?
· You think maybe crop circles spell out something vulgar in an alien language, like "For a freaky tentaclejob call Zoltar"?
· Isn't it funny how when people say "Isn't it funny" it's not funny at all?
· Did you know that whenever a car alarm goes off it means an angel just got its wings clipped?