I can only hope that, in a post-apocalyptic future, this cartoon will be found by one of the few survivors to crawl from the wreckage of what once was Earth and, shedding a single tear, she will beat her breast and lament the civilization that could produce such brilliance, such artistry, such love.

Rorschach’s Journal:

My Stylus had a role in this. I weep with vicarious Joy.