Better close that window

Trackrabbit #5 continues apace. I guess I could post full pages, or use the domain I pay for to serialize it as a "webcomic" (a term that, for me, has become synonymous with a very special kind of hackneyed, lazily executed crap). Yes, I could do all these things and more. Who knows, such a course of action could even bring me financial success. We both know, however, that I'd be betraying myself and, more importantly, you, dear reader. Any asshole can put a website together, shit out some pat witticisms about their cat or what happened at the local coffee shop, and get themselves a book deal. It takes a special kind of iconoclast to look 2012 in the face and say, "I could give a fuck about how easy the internet makes it to get the work I slave over out to my potential audience, I'm just gonna complain about my obscurity while drinking entirely too much." Valued patrons, I am just such an iconoclast, and I do it all for you. Here is a drawing of a tiny pterodactyl scaring the hell out of a couple hoodlums.