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Here in Western Civilization, the question "what do you do?" is usually short for "what do you do for a living?", which I think says a great deal about us. Personally, if you were to ask me what I do for a living, I'd have to mention that I earn money to pay my rent and purchase groceries by working forty hours a week at a call center. If you just asked me what I do, however, I think I'd mention this strip, and possibly my book. I'm a cartoonist! I'm a writer! I'm a creator!
What do I do? I make.
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0349-------------------------------------
(Tuesday, INT: Laundromat)
unnamed woman: So where do you work?
JH: I'm at the Capsaicin Lounge, currently.
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unnamed woman: Is that that Mexican place on Dean street?
JH: We don't just do Mexican, we do anything and everything that has a kick to it.
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JH: What about you, what do you do, if you don't mind my asking?
unnamed woman: What, you can't smell the delicate bouquet of crayons, Play-Doh, and Elmer's glue on me?
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JH: Alas, my olfactory superpowers extend only to food.
unnamed woman: Alas, many of my students would reject your restrictive categorization.
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