I tweeted something after reading Joakim Drescher’s Motel Universe that sums up my feelings about the book (just released as a full-color hardcover by Secret Acres after an earlier, riso-printed edition from Terry Bleu sold out) well within that site’s character limit : “Like Mark Beyer on four hits of bad acid with his non-drawing hand stuck in a blender.”
I stand by that statement fully but, never being a master of brevity, felt the work deserved more detailed, focused comment than my glib-but-glowing “review” provided. And so here we are. And I’m about to tell you why your life is well and truly empty without this comic on your shelf.
Simply put, this shit’s unhinged. Drescher is one of those cartoonists whose stream of consciousness runs in such interesting directions at such breakneck speed that it’s literally impossible to keep up with him — even as everything he…
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