A long time ago, before I became a respectable editor of a really great but none-the-less proper comics anthology, I was a member of a dangerous marauding Waikato comics gang called Oats.
This piece of writing I did a long time ago for Werewolf but I think the title still holds true. I can also imagine myself saying the following today,
"Oats comics are still amazing. They’re still delicate and brutal and funny with lots of swearing and joy. They seem to me to be a far cry from the poh-faced small print comics of today. They’re homemade rather than ‘self-published’, the result of smart people and good friends and funny lives and hours standing at the photocopier in the Centreplace Mall….Fckn Oats…".
You can also see some of my comics in the same ancient edition of Werewolf here.