I’ve been trying to grow a beard. Nothing elaborate, no waxed handlebar or Fu Manchu, no classed-up dictator mustache. Just a bunch of hair on my face. I’m not really sure where I want it to go, to be honest. I have this idea, plucked from the social ether, that it will make me seem more serious about life. With luck, I might resemble a man with rugged boots, probably named “Irving” or “Stoneweather”, who stands tall atop previously unconquered mountains. Ideally, I will look like a bear.

     Mostly, though, I’m growing a beard because it is simple. It requires nothing but inaction. In fact, I actually need to do less work, which is great. Who likes doing work? For that matter, who likes doing anything?

    Not me! Not you! As red-blooded American college students, we are all paragons of this virtuous laziness. It is both our birthright and our legacy: during these four years, we must do nothing, so that eventually we can pay huge sums of money so that our children can do nothing. Doing nothing is like breathing to us, only easier, because breathing is hard work.

    This makes what I'm about to say that much harder. I'm going to tell you a thing, and this thing will involve doing an awful lot. Just remember, it's not any easier for me to say then it is for you to hear:

    You need to get out and vote.

    The words are choking me. It is like there is a sea urchin in my throat. But wait! This is important. You see, politics are a pretty big deal, because they make our government go. "Government" is an ancient Greek word from the roots governe, meaning "room full of", and

mentio, meaning "men with bad hair". And the government does something really important: they decide who gets to do nothing.

    Government is a long and storied American tradition. If you need proof, just look at that most quintessential of American paintings: George Washington crossing the Delaware. Stare at it until your eyes leak red, white and blue tears. Tell me, through that stinging haze of patriotism, what is he doing? That's right: he's standing there. The men around him are doing work; paddling the rough waters, holding the flag already heavy with the weight of young inactivity. George Washington, though, is doing nothing. And he looks so damn good doing it. What a president.

Remember when you first discovered the Internet? If you’re in college now, you were in elementary or early middle school. You probably thought it was cool to start a Web site. So you found a two-bit “wizard” service like Geocities or Angelfire, took some photos of your Pog collection, and put them up for the world to see, accompanied by a tinny MIDI of “U Can’t Touch This”. Maybe some dancing Marios.

   And then, when you were done vomiting all over everyone else’s browsers, you grew out of it. But there’s a particular group of people who never left that stage, and now they write webcomics.

   The near-complete creative freedom that comes with the Internet has its advantages, but it also has one very particular downfall: nobody can pull the plug if you really suck. 95% of the webcomic material out there is empty, repetitive and full of the same ceaseless crap: “two deadbeat guys who play video games” or “trendy twentysomething unable to find true love at the bottom of a bottle”.  They’re mediocre at best, assuming the authors can hit their scheduled update times. But there are some star players, both well known and obscure, and they can be counted on to consistently offer up interesting, fun, readable material. Here are a few of my favorites:

Achewood

www.achewood.com

Probably the most successful comic on this list, Achewood is reminiscent of the late, great Calvin and Hobbes: stuffed animals becoming living, breathing things, with their own lives and cares. But Hobbes never hit life this hard. Software engineers with seasonal affective disorder, millionare playboys who get “hella raw on gin” and eternally five-year old otters make up Achewood’s lovably dysfunctional cast. And like Hobbes, they spend their time stunning you with wisdom while making you laugh the wax out of your ears. The humor is always offbeat, and creator Chris Onstad takes his time with the jokes: many comics don’t have punchlines, and in fact most of the wit comes from the powerfully drawn characters. Achewood’s strongest point is the personality it gives to its cast, and Onstad’s snappy, often bizarre dialog has a lot to do with this. It also helps that Onstad actually maintains a blog for each character, each written in their particular idiosyncratic voice. It’s dedication that pays off in one of the most poignant works on the Internet. Updates four days a week.

ALSO: Dinosaur Comics, Chester 5000, Templar Arizona...

    I hate tourism. I hate everything about it. I hate being lost. I hate overpriced food and I hate overhyped attractions and I really hate old fat people who drop all their fold-out maps and inhalers in my way when I’m trying to get off the Tube. You should hate it too. If you're going to some famous important city this summer, don't. I know I'm right because I have a brain bigger than the Internet.

    I have been in London for almost five weeks now, and I am fine with being in that place of stumpy buildings and insane,  medieval street layouts. It’s a pleasant enough city, and by that I mean I haven’t gotten knifed for wearing the wrong hat (see Boston) and my debit card has only mysteriously vanished once (New York). I haven’t gotten spit on (that’s Paris) and I can grab a beer with my veggie burger when I go to the local pub (as opposed to, you know, every single city in the States).

    But being a tourist here is stupid. Being a tourist anywhere is stupid. Tourists are loud and obnoxious and they never know what they’re doing. They flock to "Sightseeing Destinations" like a bunch of magnetic lemmings, except that they never seem to fall off cliffs and die, so you just get more of them all the damn time. In fact, tourists are surprisingly resilient. I must have seen about two dozen asshole Americans (you can tell them buy their American Eagle polo shirts) try to fit their ballooning bulks into Tube cars and get concussed by the closing doors, but not once did one bite it in a satisfying way. Maybe I just play too many violent video games, but I'd quite like to see this scenario unfold one time:

    Tourist: HEY WHERE WE GOIN'
    Other Tourist: UHH THEY HAVE PIZZA HUT HERE
    Tourist: COOL DO THEY HAVE BEER
    Other Tourist: BEER IS FUCKIN GREAT
    Third Tourist: THEN WE SHOULD GO SEE THAT BIG CHURCH
    Doors: *close*
    All tourists: OH GOD MY SOFT BODY IS SO YIELDING BLOOOARGH *blood everywhere*
    British People: What a bloody toff! Lorry, take the lift to the loo, blimey chap! Winston Churchill!

    Wishful fantasies! Honestly, I think our only hope is that Jesus himself shows up in St. Paul's and breaks everyone's neck with his wrestling moves.