As Trek movies go, it was only mediocre, but Malcolm McDowell is always worth watching, particularly as he reminds us that time changes all things.

• Case in point: Ryan North¹ reminds us, via the ever-accommodating vehicle of T-Rex, that things have changed quite a damn lot and we can but remember the Before Times. I don’t know if you habitually read the alt-text at Dinosaur Comics, but if you read today’s, it’s contains a promise that you can redeem for physical contact with Ryan North² and I can scarcely think of another promise of future times that is more likely to get me through until then. I will take you up on that hello and goodbye, you giant man of comfort.
• Second case in point: publishing is a weird biz, where delays are common even when there isn’t a worldwide pandemic on. It was once planned that nowish there would be a YA graphic novel from Christopher Baldwin and Shaenon Garrity³ called Willowweep Manor. At least, that was what we were told in May of last year, which I took to mean that the book was largely done, given the enormous lead times for printing and publicity planning.

  But sometimes even done projects get rearranged; I’m gonna say that it’s not COVID that pushed the book until Summer of 2021 (it would have had to have been done with the overseas printing before everything went on lockdown to meet a Fall 2020 release), but the why doesn’t really matter. It’s out there, and in the time that things have changed it’s picked up not only a new release date, but also a cover and a new title:

  The Dire Days of Willowweep Manor by Shaenon K Garrity, illustrated by Christopher Baldwin
  One dark and stormy night, Haley sees a stranger drowning in the river. Since her greatest passion is Gothic romance novels, she knows her moment has come. But when Haley leaps into the water to rescue the stranger, she awakens in Willowweep. It certainly looks like the setting of one of her favorite books: A stately manor. A sinister housekeeper. Three brooding brothers. There’s even a ghost.

  Except Willowweep is not what it seems. Its romantic exterior hides the workings of a pocket universe—the only protection our world has against a great force of penultimate evil, and its defenses are crumbling. Could cruel fate make Haley the heroine that Willowweep needs?

  If you didn’t click on the link to the cover, do so; I love the energy that Baldwin’s brought to the cover, with (presumably) Haley about to lay some smack down with that umbrella, and Chinstrap Dude (presumably much older) looking kind of overwhelmed and useless with what appears to be butter knife. The overall tone reminds me of a massive Hieronymus Bosch painting I saw in Ghent once, one of his fantastical Hellscapes⁴, which due to the presence of lovingly-rendered rabbits I have always referred to as Screw Not With The Bunnies Of The Apocalypse. This cover is what happens when you screw with the Bunnies Of The Apocalypse.

In a more just world, I’d have something to say about George (the third Nexus Of All Webomics Realities, Wherever He Happens To Be Division), but as time has taught us, it’s far from a just world. We’ll make do.

Spam of the day:

Over the last ten years, he’ s developed a program where ANYONE can start relieving their own back pain in the next 30 minutes. Just 15 minutes into the program and you’ re feeling eons better. Out of pain. Or at minimum greatly reduced. My chiropractor highly endorses Ian Hart and his methods.

See, I know you’re lying. If there’s one thing that will get a chiropractor kicked out of chiropracting, it’s admitting that there are treatments for anything that don’t involve chiropractice.

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¹ Toronto Man-Mountain, Nexus Of All Webcomics Realities, Frostbite Division.

² Don’t be creepy about it.

³ Tiki Queen, Nexus Of All Webcomics Realities, Greater Bay Area Division.

⁴ It wasn’t The Garden Of Earthly Delights since that’s at The Prado and I’ve never been; it was probably one of the studies for Garden, but who can say? No photos allowed, I didn’t keep a diary of the day, and dude drew a lot of hell-bunnies.