Brilliant and uncomfortably honest. The author takes a rusted shovel to his own insecurities and neuroses, turfing up the fragile veneer of the human condition to expose what we hate most about ourselves, with the brutal efficiency that only his childlike doodles can fully reveal without the taint of intellectual process.
This is not Bunny Suicides or Cyanide & Happiness, it is not schadenfreude. This is Sylvia Plath in doodles.
Brutal. Brilliant.