Life Without Taffy

One of the stupid little things I like to do on my lunchbreak at my soul-crushing retail supervisor job, is deface company property. Usually reserved to brochures and various paper propoganda. I drew this little picture on a page of a safety awareness packet that was more or less common sense stuff anyway. No grab-ass while on a ladder. Duh.

After a day or two of me not adding anything in particular to it I noticed a portion added by someone else. That person, not even able to draw a convincing asian stereotype on the first try, I think ruined the picture. I wrote a message and left it in the breakroom.

I figured out who drew this. It was this stocker kid who’s a fairly recent hire. I have no good things to say about him at all. Anyhow, he formed a rebuttal.

So this douche mistakes my self-deprecating humor as an admission of my inferiority as an artist. I draw better than him in my sleep with a matchstick and that doesn’t even make sense. I’m not the best artist of ever or anything but here’s an example of this fool’s artisitic ability.

So there you have it. The asian guy. Goku (I think that’s his name) from Dragon Ball Z and the worst renditions of Homer and Bart Simpson I have ever seen. This isn’t even bad in a good way like that god-awful thrift-store painting. It’s just bad.