AAAND we bring back in the goings-ons in issues 9 (boy meets girl).
Desert Peach #17, Culture Clash, begins tomorrow! Boy GETS girl! And everything else that can come down on his head, as well.
Winzig gets girl, too. Just not this girl.
You don’t want to get into a fight with anyone who lives in a hot climate. No, really, trying to breathe under the broiling sun all day can make us all a bit tetchy and impatient.
Americans cannot seem to get it through their heads that we do not fuck with the hot-climate locals, for any reason. The Germans made separate peace with these people — Rommel did it by sitting down to tea with local chiefs.
Hitler used offering cups of tea and cakes to convince, far before he’d start screaming. Most people will always respond to goodies and pats on the heads, and if anybody knew that and how to use it, he did.
Everybody in a hot climate drinks tea; might be why they’ve never slaughtered each other into extinction, at least so far, although it’s not from lack of trying.
I dunno, if I were traveling in a hostile hot area, I’d take along packages of fancy tea and offer them at any possibility of anger or distrust. People do seem to get sidetracked by tea. It is a drug, after all.
Everybody thinks Rosen is over the top or wishful thinking. Faint hope, dear readers.
He’s a composite of my husband and a former pilot boyfriend, lo, these many decades ago.
“It’s me! Old Crash-and-Burn!” is a phrase I’ve heard come out of a man’s mouth.
Today I would have just outlined all those black spaces, then scanned the page, filled the black spaces, and used the brush tool to pop out some stars.
Imagine doing this all by hand and outlining the stars rather than painting them back in.
This isn’t even my most ornate work!
One never has to worry about humiliating one’s hero if his dignity is so basic. It’s more fun!
No series is any real fun until it begins to look like the end of Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband – the pure and superior begin to lie just like everybody else. Or turn out to have relationships with all the bad guys.
“Luke, I’m your father!” has a history going back to Oedipus Rex, at least.
Even the Peach can only put up with Udo’s BS so long.
This really is how lower ranks try to ‘splain things to their commanders. After awhile, they seem to believe it all themselves.
Oh, just go read Permanent Party. Erich Maria Remarque would have recognized all those people, regardless of war or gender.
Everybody wants to get involved when there are boys to tie up.
Everybody’s having sex but you, but they’re making you watch.
It’s all fun and games until somebody loses their virginity.
Rewrite your own cliche’ here.
Since the wars, Germans have been perfectly aware — and a bit proud of — how incredibly effective they can be once they set their minds to something.
Imagine if Hitler had had the Peace Corps to join, and different goals. Or Glenn Beck for that matter.
Oops — without an education, that doesn’t work very well, either.
Of course, the Peach wears plain French linen boxers. That time in issue two, when he wore the tight frillies was just to drive his brother up the wall.
There are several different ways I draw dapples, but sometimes a nice lot of circles in the right places does the job.
“Mahren” is often mistranslated as “mares.” It means “nag.” “Mare” means “adult female horse.” In German it is “Stute.”
There’s no excuse for this page except horses, chaos and some nice guy legs.
