On Nick Pendleton

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I wrote about Nick Pendleton once.

I hate Nick Pendleton. Most people don’t know this; they’re too busy listening to my praises for his work to understand the depth of my hatred. If he were a student in one of my cooking classes, I would’ve failed his ass for burning the broccoli in the wok, even though it was clear that I planted the burnt broccoli in his dish to destroy his reputation in the cooking community. I would’ve scooped out the broccoli and thrown it in his face. I would scream something like, “What the fuck is this?” And he would immediately be in tears. He would say something like, “It’s impossible! There’s no way that’s my broccoli!” And I would turn my back to him and say something like, “Nick, you’ve disappointed me greatly. You will never be able to cook in this town again.”

Not sure if this is from the introduction I wrote for his book or somewhere else, but I found it in one of my old files and it made me smile.

Be sure to check out the bastard’s comic strip Feral Boy and Gilgamesh at the End of the World.

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