The genesis of it is this: there was an anti-rape march around campus. Anti-rape. Marching and saying rape is bad. I thought it was silly. It was like having a "murder ain't right" rally or "spittin' in your mom's face is weird" petition. One of my ex-girlfriends marched in said rally, and the next night at a party, I told her I heard a lot of guys were about to rape some ladies when they heard about the march and stopped. She laughed.

But did the feminists laugh when I put a sim-u-lar joke in print? Nooooooooo.

Everyone loved THE LAND OF THE FEMINISTS. Everyone but the feminist group. They hated me. They hated Pat. It didn't help that I drew the gals in this strip to look like the actual feminists. The one guy in the group, who I drew EXACTLY, to F'n T, he was the most mad. Left a pissed off letter on my dorm door. Calling me an ignorant f**k and saying it was people like me who are to blame for all the world's problems. Threatened me. I'll find it, along with Pat's response, and post it. It's truly scary, not because he found out where I lived, but because of his John Warner Hinkley Jr. chicken scratch hand writing. Nope, he was too mad to type it. Or maybe one of the girls borrowed his type writer to update their recipe book or something. KIDDING, I'm kidding.