Editing 147: A Way So Familiar
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| title = A Way So Familiar | | title = A Way So Familiar | ||
| image = a_way_so_familiar.png | | image = a_way_so_familiar.png | ||
− | | titletext = Two Hedwig references, an obscure Joey Comeau | + | | titletext = Two Hedwig references, an obscure Joey Comeau, and a girl with a mohawk. Yes. |
}} | }} | ||
==Explanation== | ==Explanation== | ||
− | + | {{incomplete}} | |
− | + | Some {w|Introverts} tend to empathize with other people they perceive as being shy or introverted. Sometimes their imagination leads them on to far/obscure futures. A person outside the imaginative world can easily see through this and judge as a delusion. | |
− | In | + | In this comic, Hairy (?) points out he saw a girl at the bank and probably started having platonic romantic feelings toward her, describing many characteristics that would be impossible to know about her without actually talking to her (sweetness, soul pain) |
− | + | In the last comic, the reader finds out she probably does not look like the sweet girl the reader imagined, having a Mohawk and shoveling prostitutes into a car. | |
− | + | The joke is that Hairy seems oblivious to the fact that his imagination is a very obvious delusion. While people could forgive a guy empathizing with a "cute pretty girl", Cueball seems annoyed by the lack of judgement of Hairy. | |
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− | The joke is that Hairy seems oblivious to the fact that his imagination is a very obvious delusion. While people could forgive a guy empathizing with a "cute pretty girl, | ||
==Transcript== | ==Transcript== | ||
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:Hairy: But she was so sweet. Shy, but there was something in her eyes. A pain down in her soul, the same as the one down in mine. | :Hairy: But she was so sweet. Shy, but there was something in her eyes. A pain down in her soul, the same as the one down in mine. | ||
:Cueball: Mm hmm. | :Cueball: Mm hmm. | ||
− | :Hairy: The police light played through her mohawk like the sun setting through pine trees as she shoveled the third hooker into the trunk of the | + | :Hairy: The police light played through her mohawk like the sun setting through pine trees as she shoveled the third hooker into the trunk of the camry... |
:Cueball: Back up. | :Cueball: Back up. | ||