This was our first comic con and Johnny had a booth for artists. It was a mask required sort of thing. I didn't wear a mask. We both had gaitors that we were prepared to wear over our mouths if anyone was going to get fucking ridiculous about it....but it was never going to be comfortable or pretty for them to get ridiculous with us, should they have chosen to do so...

Every time, walking in the door, the employees were clearly supposed to ask me to wear a mask and were ready to hand me a blue, graphene-oxide-laced piece of shit for me to strangle myself with, but every time I just didn't look at them for even a moment and just kept walking and not a single person even weakly tried to yell after me. I wasn't approached once. No one said anything. It was great.

Just now, I was thinking about how much less hate I get for not masking when, last year, it was often pretty tense. But, then I remembered: the weakest and most spineless fucks who are happy to roll over and play pretend are the ones masking. They're not going to ever say shit to me again! Ha. It is so sad, but also the strongest of us are ALL on one side and the weakest pieces of shit are on the other.

We win. Every time. Winning, Winning, Won. 💚