Judging by the architecture, Katu once knew much better days. But now there’s just a bunch of beautiful old empty buildings for lease, gradually deteriorating. How many beautiful cities are like that in the United States? The underdog cities, perpetually plunged into the losing end of the economics of scarcity.

Maybe in a healthier, better-managed economy, different areas could take turns at being winners and losers, establishing some sort of healthy circulation if we’re to believe that money is really “energy” – but there are places like this that have had the invisible boot heel of Adam Smith on their necks for generations. New Orleans. Memphis. Tacoma. Oakland. Detroit. Such is the case in Katu specifically, and currently on the moon of Shinma in general. Of course, I’ll have to cook up some different sort of name for the alien version of Adam Smith, if it ever comes up in conversation among the cast.

Meanwhile, the nascent draftsman in me must endure gazing in retrospect upon the ever-changing size and shape of the roof of Murray’s cab-over rig, which on this page expands to the proportions of a generous sleeper cab. Pay no attention to that sort of thing, please – focus instead on the well-rendered motion blur on the FZZZHNN! sound effect.

Boozy like to cut things! Well, it is an ideal situation if you can find enjoyment in your chosen line of work. Upon reflection, I feel that this is an interesting page in that the proportion of words in English to onomatopoeia seems to be getting close to leveling out.

There’s also a rare proliferation of expository thought balloons from Murray – I’ll have to ask him to dial that sort of thing back in future pages. But which of us could do better in such a situation, with the maniacal laughter, the SXAXK and XORNX of it all swirling around?

The final panel looks as though I’ve completed the time traveling effort back to the days of late 1960s-early 1970s underground comics, with the heavily hatched profile of Murray emitting a thought-bubble escape plan. Something about that excessive amount of hatching seems to put me in touch with the mounting paranoia of that era, even though it was a handful of years before I came into my current form. Unfortunately, I’ve mostly read only excerpts of the comics of those days – very rarely have I been able to read complete ones.

As Murray bemoans the challenging condition of his manual window roller – a feeling I reckon at least one generation of human Americans has never known – my thoughts turn to his apparel. This will be discussed within the story in later pages, but I wonder if Zoonbats ever catches on, would merchandise like Murray’s tank top CATFISH shirt possibly find a receptive market? I’m almost certain his BEER trucker hat would, if it hasn’t already – it’s just that its market in all likelihood wouldn’t even need members of the Zoonbats readership in its ranks to sell steadily. These are the sorts of thoughts going through my mind as I sit here, sipping a beer and typing these dubiously enlightening artist’s statements. Let’s see if I can work my way back around to something relevant to the artistic process.

The word “UGGA!” originates from the printed lyrics in Ice-T’s album, “O.G. Original Gangster.” The actual exclamation in the song is something that I would normally spell “Uh,” or “Ugh,” maybe “Ungh”… but whoever was tasked with typesetting this hip-hop double album’s worth of lyrics chose the spelling UGGA, and this was a source of tremendous amusement for me at the time. (And, come to think of it, continues to be.) The song, incidentally, is “Mind Over Matter” and could be Ice-T’s finest ever.

Presently, I feel sentimental for the days when I could pass hours by listening to music while reading a lyrics sheet. They were these pieces of paper that were included in a vinyl record or compact disc or cassette, and you could look at them and they’d have pictures and liner notes… well, I guess there is “album art” embedded in MP3s now, and you can just look up some hack’s attempt at interpreting the lyrics on the myriad of sketchy lyrics sites on the web.

I guess I didn’t really succeed at getting back to the artistic process on this page, after all. It’s more like I’m about to warn someone to stay off my lawn here.

Unfortunately, Murray’s early success in wielding the cattle prod seemed to be the peak of his prowess. “Sparky” is game to keep trying, though.

Maybe if Murray didn’t take the time to announce, “Looks like the last laugh is on you and your nefarious cronies!” before striking… These are the kinds of things we can discuss with a calm and rational mind as distant observers from the relative safety of a flashback, though – Murray was there in the heat of the moment and did the best he could.

Actually the timing of this panel would seem to be right at home in a mainstream superhero comic fight, in which the action is supposed to happen in the blink of an eye, but some sort of slow motion time warp enables the combatants to threaten and taunt each other with excessive verbosity. Unfortunately, though I had the book, I’m not capable of drawing action sequences “the Marvel way,” as the next several pages will prove at excruciating length… as if that hasn’t already become abundantly clear.

Boozy the mallard’s efforts to provide a homemade access portal to the shipment of Schnockerboxes awaiting within the trailer have proven successful. The riches await within. Originally intended as an homage to my friend Asher Dudley’s comic character Humphrey Duck, I now view Boozy with the eyes of a father whose toddler daughter’s fascination with ducks has afforded me the opportunity to learn much more about them. Specifically in this case that, judging by Boozy’s coloring, she is a female mallard. I’m also pleased to note that the way she wields the chainsaw is technically accurate.

The first panel of this page, with Murray remarking “*Ulp!* This don’t bode particularly well…!” strikes me now as a great example of the influence of the underground comix of the 60s and 70s on my work. The abstract background connotes, to me at least, the aesthetic of a religious illustration. The droplets of sweat bursting from Murray’s head, the BEER hat, the heavy and labored detailing and shading of Murray’s underarm… it all would have fit in so well with the mounting paranoia that followed in the wake of the Summer of Love. It’s an image that could have become a cultural icon, most likely through theft and bootlegging, like “Keep on Truckin’.” In lieu of that notoriety, though, at least I’ve amused myself without shopping or watching TV.

As for the meaning of the term “Zoy,” it’s a Silnai cuss word that could roughly translate to “fuck yeah.” “BLARG!!” and “BUH?!” I believe are universal and self-explanatory.