November was a very stupid month. I mean, stupider than the rest of the year, which is saying something. Didn’t Destiel happen in November? Fuck, it feels like Turbo Hell became a thing at least a year ago. Whatever. Between personal life stresses, a pandemic, the election, and scrambling to get last minute details squared away before we shipped Act 2, I arrived in December with my brain feeling like a large, floppy mushroom growing between my ears. A large, floppy mushroom that did not want to do anything besides kind of ooze around, and definitely not come up with any clever ideas for comics.
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