35th century archaeologists studying the ruins of my city will conclude Toronto was some kind of huge sundial
I've got nothing against cabbies. They work fourteen hours a day, six days a week just to make ends meet which has got to suck especially hard when you were a thoracic surgeon back home. The dispatchers piss me off a bit, though. I've been stranded in front of major landmarks, simply because nobody thought it necessary to stencil "301 Front Street West" on an edifice that's only impediment to visibility is the curvature of the earth.
Two last things about this comic: Jamie's not wild about heights and if you ever want to see him turn paler than me, take him up to the observation deck to watch the teenagers jump up and down on the glass floor (to his point, though, what exactly are they trying to achieve?). Also, international readers might be amused to know the title references a much-loved Canadian children's show about a musical giant who kept a rooster nailed to his wall.
We're putting the debate on hold for the next two weeks, I'm afraid. Jamie and I are going to be shooting in Florida (I know, I know it's a brutal and thankless job) and we won't have access to our website. We also won't be able to respond to reader mail until we return, though that has more to do with the fact that I'll be too sunburned to type and Jamie will be too drunk.
Despite all this, next week's comic is already done and should be up on schedule.
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