Mad About the Boy

I think we all know where all the Post-Its have gone: the Internet! Yes, I have locked them in my desk but my friend has persisted, just as I knew he would.  It's like he's the Marquis de Sade at the end of "Quills", determined to write, despite his lack of parchment and quill, on the wall in his own feces (without all the savagery, of course). Or it's like I'm being pestered by a Mad Magazine writer with a moderately entertaining fold-in.

It's something I find quite admirable about him and he's definitely grown as an artist. Just look at the perspective work on the lower doodle. I might frame it. Or use it as toilet paper, because we've also run out of that.