{product_snapshot:id=1469,true,false,true,left} I had no idea what to do next. For fifteen years, while practicing law in Berkeley, I had been writing about cartoonists for The Comics Journal. It had become apparent early on that the more off-beat the cartoonist was in his life or art, the more I would be drawn to him. Once my bias had become clear, someone at the Journal would have another cartoonist for me: a schizophrenic and an alcoholic and a speed freak and a suicide and a misanthrope and one fellow whose career off-tracked when he became a woman. Their work was often grotesquely…
