PolkOut.com is armed with seven rounds of space doo-doo pistols!

Poo poo poo.

Forum Update: The forum looks awesome now!  Big thanks to my friend Alex!  Post in the new forum: www.PolkOut.com/forum.  It's hosted on my server, and if that starts getting laggy in the future I can just pay for more bandwidth.  Any artistic contribution to the forum would be terrific.  You can still check out the old forum, and older pages will still link to it for now, so... uh... do whatever with that intel.

Quick shit for newcomers: Forum (deviant bullshit), Feedback (fan art, comments, critiques), About (check it out and contribute).  Do you have a website of your own you want me to give a shout out to?  Want to do a crazy guest strip?  You can reach me through that email or on the forums. 

Upcoming Fan Art Showcase: Whenever I get a substantial amount of fan art (we've got a few submissions on the forum) I'll dedicate a whole update to fan submissions.  Go nuts, lets see some creativity and experimentation with style.  Guest comic guidelines are in the forum.

Archive Alternative: PolkOut Redux, updated Monday through Friday with old strips in the same chronological order as in which they appeared on this site.  It's on DrunkDuck so you can rate the comics and comment directly underneath them:

Hey guys, quick site thing: I know I ask you all on a pretty regular basis to share the site--maybe put links in your sigs on forums, casually show it to your friends, maybe, if relevant, post a comic on a forum--but don't spam, alright?  The last thing I'm out to do is make enemies; while I'm sure the upper echelon of the webcomic community already thinks everything I do is in poor taste, I don't need them thinking I'm an unapologetic shit-eater as well.  So represent, for sure, but be aware that the impression this site generates is based not only on its content, but by the actions of its fans.

Forum moderator Illumilatte suggested an alternate final panel:

Take your pick.

Apparently "polknout" means "to swallow".  The above was scrawled on the wall of the art gallery where I work, I forget what it means, but I think it was some pretentious shit like, "The truth can be hard to swallow," or something artsy like, "Avoid the easy messes with a simple swallow." 

I've been burning through final papers, having finished an entire... one... while battling this persistent cough and watching Jason Statham movies.  Death Race was damn awesome, save for the half assed ending which the writer clearly just phoned in.  I also watched War, aka Rogue Assassin, which costarred Jet Li and was an abysmal pile of shit.  Shymalan caliber twist whoring and a really... well, just plain delusional interpretation of how FBI agents actually function.  To the point where disbelief protested its suspension, burst back into the building, and started throwing its feces at innocent passers by in a fit of psychotic rage.  Statham was so fucking one note in this movie--yeah, I know, he's a one note kinda guy, but that's often tempered with either half assed attempts at characterization (e.g. Transporter series) or a self aware sense of humor (e.g. Crank)--that I actually began to dislike him.  "Alo govnah!" he exclaims Britishly, "Oy, ahm toff ahn angrah!  Fish ahn chips!"

I call your attention now to my floor's service request sheet:

Note the anonymous entry at the very bottom.  I'm not saying I know who did it... I would never rat a friend out like that... but lets just say... I didn't do it.

This morning, I woke up at what may as well have been the crack of dawn, five fucking thirty, to navigate Prague's metro system and make my way to this flee market at the edge of town.  Imagine a junk store convention, only with food and snacks and stuff sold at absurdly low prices--I'm talkin' Mr. Brown coffee drink at a third the price, these cracker snacks they've got around here for a sixth; I bought a small bag of nachos and a jar of salsa for the equivalent of a single US dollar.  Glorious. 

I also bought some cultural artifacts.

It's a wood... thing, depicting a pantsless child about to blow a duck.  If that's not just a mountain of win right there, I don't know what is.

Oh, and for the fuck of it:

A gas mask!  A dusty, ass-smelling, nonfunctional, five dollar gas mask.  Fuck yeah.

And, as K and I were walking down the street yesterday, we noticed the following and realized it had to be chronicled for... I guess posterity or whatever:

Yeah...

At a drunken, post-gallery opening, coworker camaraderie fest at a nearby pub, my boss expressed some level of disappointment for having never been featured in a comic--though he has been mentioned in this blog, quoted directly in fact on a number of occasions.  But seeing as he's a decent enough guy, I probably ought to give him some sort of a cameo... this will be something to ponder.

Until next week!

--End Transmission--

PolkOut Sells Out

The following are ads I've put up on the site to help pay for my advertising budget so I can make this site more popular.  I did not choose these ads, and have decided not to filter their content.  So if they lead you to tasty tasty meat products, well, all the better.