Jesus Christ, remember when this strip had jokes in it?

I seem to recall, in ages past, Leftover Soup had puns and double entendres and pop culture references and board games and... and something - anything - other than an ever-deepening expedition into the rancid depths of Mason's twisted psyche.

...

uh... I mean Max. Max's twisted psyche.

Anyway, what we're seeing here is a natural consequence of Max's view of pleasure (particularly sexual pleasure) as the be-all-end-all a priori maximal good. It elevates libido to a virtue, and virtue, necessarily, is a function of volition.

Max has always been a portrait of someone who decides that she will be the person she wants to be. She designed a mold for herself and forces herself into that mold - and all spillovers are a fault to be corrected. And yes, a great deal of that is a reaction to her own mental issues, an iron-clad determination not to be depressed and therefore never to feel bad.

It raises the question, I think, of what the difference is - or if there is a difference - between the self and the meta-self; between the person you choose to be, day to day, and the person doing the choosing. Is Max actually consenting to sex with Trent, here? Is Max even capable of consent, in this moment?

Anyway, don't worry. I'm planning on wrapping this storyline up in a neat little bow soon enough. Then we can move on to something nice and cathartic.