I got almost 2 dozen emails over the past couple of days about my Michael Bay comic on Wednesday, and this intrigued me. Not that it was a work of art, but apparently it resonated with quite a few of you out there in internet land. Most of the notes said pretty much the same thing: "Michael Bay is a cock sucking grandmother fucker for messing up Transformers like this! Bring me his head!!" (paraphrased by me). But there was one letter in the pack which basically said, "Don't you have anything better to do than to yell at a man with so much more talent than you who's making a silly movie about toy robots from the 1980s?! You're pathetic! Leave Michael Bay alone already!" Cool! I didn't know that Michael Bay knew of my site! Michael, to answer your question, no. No, I don't have anything better to do.

On to today's comic. Ever since I started it up again a little over a year ago, paintball has become a very important part of my life. Once a month, need it or not, a group of us goes out into the woods behind a friend's house and we shoot the shit out of each other for an entire afternoon. Then we all get fed some great home cooking made by the wives who stayed behind. And there's beer in a kegerator too. Jesus titty-fucking Christ is this the most perfect way to spend a Saturday! Fuck mowing the lawn or cleaning out the gutters -- for about 4-5 hours one Saturday a month we get to hunt down our fellow man in the middle of a savage land and pepper him full of painted wounds. The only thing that could possibly make this any better is if there were high class hookers waiting for the winners.

Now, just so we're clear here, first of all we're not talking that really lame paintball tourney stuff that you see on ESPN the OCHO... The pathetic games that they play in the middle of an inflatable maze where the two teams just run around like a bunch of Pac-Men and gay ghosts with no strategy or plan except "SHOOT!" We're out in the middle of 20+ acres of wooded wilderness, with hills, canvas bunkers and only the ammo we can carry with us. Strategic plans are made, and if implemented correctly a sniper group of 2 can (and have) taken out a full platoon of 8 men by themselves... No, I don't think I was ever one of those 2 who pulled that stunt off, but my hat's off to 'em... Those magnificent bastards!

Yes, we do realize that we're not in a real war, and we're not retarded enough to actually want to shoot and be shot at by real guns, but it is quite the rush to dive for cover behind a giant fallen tree as 20 paint balls crack on the other side of the trunk a fraction of a second behind you. To be sure, paintball is at least twice as manly as *snigger* Ultimate Frisbee... Fratboy fags.

We have had chicks play in the past, and all in all they've done pretty well. Nothing half as bad as what Catsy did in today's strip has ever happened either (though both Jon and I have gotten nutshots [right before we started wearing cups]). Karen was interested in playing at one time, until she saw the welts on my chest and back following that one horrible game. God, that one was so bad... I think I even shot myself somehow.

-the Rossman