Comics nerds are gross and the entire comics scene is way too weird and off-putting for normal, healthy people to be involved in. Who wants to deal with adult children flipping out over their self-professed identity group (usually fringe sexual) not being portrayed in comic books about people in tights with powers running around beating each other up? What artist or writer wants to cater to such freaks? It’s just not worth it.
I say this with a degree of sadness because I too was a massive fan of comic books in my youth. I enjoyed the stories, of course, but it was really the artwork that grabbed me, and made me want to grab my own pencil and learn how to draw. My first dream in life was to be a comic book artist. Though that didn’t end up happening, I still taught myself to draw and developed a lifelong love of art. I still contend that the comic book medium has so much power and merit and I’m happy the style is being used for things other than skinsuit IPs continually pumped out by the Big Two comic companies, Marvel and DC.
This industry is so bizarre and cultish that ideologically driven creators—and I use this term loosely—enjoy ruining the lives of their colleagues who don’t toe increasingly absurd political lines, freezing them out of gainful employment in the industry over, I don’t know, pronouns or some shit like that. It’s all really, really stupid. But sometimes it can also prove deadly.
A few weeks ago, a gentleman I have never heard of named Ed Piskor killed himself after allegations he had made sexually provocative, indeed creepy, overtures to young female artists over social media came to light. He also allegedly asked for sexual favors from adult women in exchange for professional favors (sadly, a tale as old as time). There were more than a few instances, and I’m not going to go into the details and instead will refer you to this piece which has all of the lurid bits for your reading pleasure. While distasteful—I mean, at least one of these girls was only 17 and Mr. Piskor was, at the time, in his late 30s—it is important to note that he actually did not commit any crime.
Obligatory disclaimer for all you window-lickers out there: I am not defending the man’s actions and I certainly wouldn’t want around my daughter. But the guy didn’t deserve to die over this.
Once the allegations broke, Mr. Piskor’s life, professional and personal, was basically over at that point as everybody started to pile on and his ostensible friends and colleagues turned their backs on him.
And then, on April 1, 2024, after posting what can only be described as a suicide note, he took his own life. More blow-by-blow accounts of the entire saga can be found here. Obviously, it is tragic anytime someone takes their own life, especially in a case like this where it seems like an overreaction to a situation that could be ridden out with the help of friends and family, only to emerge stronger on the other side. If you’re the praying kind, it would be good to pray for Mr. Piskor and his family.1 I’ve also waited a few weeks before writing about this for there to be at least some more facts to counter the rage and speculation circling around this story.
I am laying all of this groundwork as background for the post, because there is a statement Mr. Piskor made in his note that was deeply profound. It feels prurient to discuss aspects of a man’s suicide note, and I do apologize for any offense or squeamishness this may cause. But it is important in getting to the heart of the matter:
Comics is beyond a profession to me. It’s everything. That might sounds sad and pathetic to some, but this culture and medium gave me the greatest joy in life.
If reading this gave you a chill, then you get it. Replace “comics” with some other artform and if you know, you know. It’s not just about the art. It’s about what the art means, and the culture surrounding it. If the culture is bad, well . . .
A recent review on Pitchfork of The Waterboys’ landmark 1985 album This Is the Sea by Mark Richardson made the same point in a more poetic way:
Big music is the chill down your spine and the sudden eruption of gooseflesh. It’s a feeling one usually encounters when young, describing that moment when you hear a song for the first time and it’s so overwhelming you feel like a changed person after it ends. For many musicians, an early experience with such an epiphany meant they could no longer imagine a future in the straight world—going to school, getting a job, settling down were out the window. All that mattered now was making a life in a band. Those who have had the experience but don’t perform themselves might subsequently spend their lives building a social scene around shows, collecting records, or reading and writing long essays about the power of music.
Again, if you’ve never felt this upon encountering some piece of art, then it sounds like stupid hippy dippy stuff that can just be dismissed. But for a whole lot of us, art is akin to having a religious experience, which is not surprising considering many forms of worship are highly artistic, involving singing, chanting, beautiful imagery, and in some faiths, dancing. I wrote about this phenomenon as it relates to music in my post Let’s Talk about Rock (and Music in General):
. . . [A]rt . . . provides a place where you can be good at something and feel good about yourself.
. . .
. . . [B]eing good at something, is a way to validate yourself in a way you know is real: you’re either good at a musical instrument or you’re not, end of story.
And much like seekers of the spirit, artists tend to be fundamentally broken people looking for something to fulfill a need they’re not getting anywhere else. If you’re a super-successful alpha Chad capitalist rich guy who doesn’t need the “crutch” of religion, or anything else, good for you see you later bye. But why would you make fun of people who do need it?2
Further, a lot of artists are driven by a streak of self-loathing where nothing is good enough and the approval of strangers feels more important than that of family and friends. I touched on this in my short story You Must Love This.
For someone like Ed Piskor, I get the sense that he was a man who, for whatever reason, didn’t feel like he had a lot going for him in his life, and maybe had the kind of childhood so typical of those who get into the arts where he was made fun of, and maybe didn’t have success with women when he got older, but was a really good artist, and poured himself into his art which became his identity. I read the allegations against him, and how he spoke with women whom he DM’d, and I get the impression that this was a man who wasn’t exactly an “alpha” when it came to the dating scene. I know I could be wrong as the first I heard of this man was after he killed himself. These are just my observations.
It calls to mind another internet superstar, a YouTuber who talks about video games3 by the name of Jared Knabenbauer who goes by ProJared and his controversy involving, among other things, sexually explicit messages to minors, including the actual transmission of photographs of Lil’ Jared to these girls (read about it here and here). I bring ProJared up because he denied the allegations from day one and provided documentation showing his side of the story. Further, he didn’t kill himself. He got through it. He came out the other side. I don’t particularly care for ProJared but I’m still glad he didn’t commit suicide over this. His reputation might never be the same, but the guy is still breathing. It makes me sad that the comic book industry is even grosser than the YouTuber community.
Mr. Piskor was obviously a talented artist, and obviously a tortured soul. I’m not sure the two always go hand-in-hand (see here for a discussion of the link between mental illness and artistic talent and creativity; it’s apparently not as cut-and-dry as conventional wisdom would have you believe), but I think there has to be some link. When you put talented, creative, and sensitive people into an incredibly toxic culture where everybody flaunts their mental illness like a badge and is willing to viciously turn on supposed friends on a moment’s notice in a swarm of frenzied derangement, you get situations like this. I hope he finds some peace in the hereafter. I know suicide is a sin, but I also know that God is love and I pray He has mercy on those desperate souls who see no other way out.
I don’t think this will change anything about the weird world of comic books. Adult children freaking out over cartoon characters. I get being on the lookout for sexual predators, but driving a guy to suicide for creepy DMs is sick. And consider the amount of actual predators, groomers, and creeps in that industry.4
Internet microcelebrity isn’t worth this. Even one’s art isn’t worth this. We live in a time where there’s almost no money in art, so in order to earn a living doing what one loves, one either has to work for some soulless company and do Corporate Memphis-style art, or you have to treat yourself like a brand and relentlessly pimp yourself out by creating “content” so fans who watch you for free maybe, maybe, shell out a buck of two for something you created instead of pirating it somewhere. Lots of artistic types would be better off with a patron who will cover the bills in exchange for the artist being able to work their magic.
Proud swagger out of the schoolyard
Waiting for the world's applause
Rebel without a conscience
Martyr without a causeStatic on your frequency
Electrical storm in your veins
Raging at unreachable glory
Straining at invisible chainsAnd now you’re trembling on a rocky ledge
Staring down into a heartless sea
Can't face life on a razor’s edge
Nothing's what you thought it would beAll of us get lost in the darkness
Dreamers learn to steer by the stars
All of us do time in the gutter
Dreamers turn to look at the cars
Turn around and turn around and turn around
Turn around and walk the razor’s edge
Don't turn your back and slam the door on meIt’s not as if this barricade
Blocks the only road
It's not as if you’re all alone
In wanting to explodeSomeone set a bad example
Made surrender seem all right
The act of a noble warrior
Who lost the will to fightAnd now you’re trembling on a rocky ledge
Staring down into a heartless sea
Done with life on a razor’s edge
Nothing’s what you thought it would beAll of us get lost in the darkness
Dreamers learn to steer by the stars
All of us do time in the gutter
Dreamers turn to look at the cars
Turn around and turn around and turn around
Turn around and walk the razor’s edge
Don't turn your back and slam the door on meNo hero in your tragedy
No daring in your escape
No salutes for your surrender
Nothing noble in your fate
Christ, what have you done?All of us get lost in the darkness
Dreamers learn to steer by the stars
All of us do time in the gutter
Dreamers turn to look at the carsTurn around and turn around and turn around
Turn around and walk the razor’s edge
Turn around and walk the razor’s edge
Turn around and walk the razor’s edge
Don't turn your back and slam the door on me
Takeaways
If you’re a sensitive artistic type, try to have some grounding in your life and identify in something other than your art form.
DMs are a bad idea. Everything on the Internet is forever, and you cannot assume that everything is private. Just don’t slide into her DMs.
None of this garbage is worth killing yourself over, especially if you actually didn’t do anything illegal or major. I know that being “technically legal” is weaselly and doesn’t make doing something that is actually wrong okay, but even so, not being illegal or criminal helps. Ride it out. People have shorter memories than you think.
Stop associating with nasty, vicious, toxic people and scenes who will never forgive any slight, real or perceived, against their weird pieties. People who are nasty to others will have no compunctions about being nasty to you.
If you find yourself in a situation like this, reach out to people. Reach out to family. Reach out to people who you might consider your opponents, ideological or otherwise. Reach out to a priest. Your life isn’t over.
It bears repeating: none of this garbage is worth killing yourself over.
Yes, I am aware of Mr. Piskor’s politics, how he’s helped cancel people he doesn’t like, and so on. I don’t care about that because a man just killed himself.
Because these types of people fall into an anthropological category called “Assholes.”
Imagine being able to talk about video games for a living. What the hell was I wasting my life in school for?
A medium that traditionally appeals to children just can’t help cramming in deviant sexuality into every nook and cranny of superhero stories.
There are no adults in the room of any of these industries so no one ever has to become one. It's no wonder they've all decayed so far.
Also ironic that the generation of artists who got into comics to make them for adults are far more childish than the people who ran the industry when it was aimed at kids.
Kudos for the Rush reference in your article's title 👏