Earlier this week, I was deeply saddened by the death of my good friend and former collaborator Harvey Pekar. I first met him and his wife Joyce Brabner in 1995, on tour with Our Cancer Year. I was too nervous to say much to either of them, pretty sure they would want nothing to do with a scruffy blue-haired self-publisher in a hand-made dress. Not big fancy people like they were. After all, Harvey had steadfastly rejected compromising his integrity in exchange for financial security. Distributed by Tubemogul.