by Sarah Katz
Daniel comes running across the street with a devilish smirk. He pulls a comic from behind his back. It’s Lenore #1. We’d been eyeing it earlier. 12 issues later, it’s still just as witty, innocent, raunchy, and chalk fulla potty-mouthed humor. I thought the “cute little dead girl” gig would run out long ago, but the fights with rocks [Uh, Lenore, that rock isn’t actually talking. You’ve been saying all those things out the side of your mouth] and the making of rabid love to a goat while wearing a sun dress and hat still gets me every time. Hats off to Roman Dirge for his demented nursery rhymes and his sick sense of humor. Keep up the good work and the poopy fart jokes.