How to explain what it's like to come into the middle of one of these self-published 1980s comics? The confusing text, the clumsy art, the craft nowhere near the level of the ambition, the attempts to flesh out a world visualized by creators who seemingly never left their home town? How, I ask you?

It's kind of like... being transported back to ancient Egypt and being shoved into the ground by a space alien. Exactly like that.

Artists all know that one of the most difficult things to render are hands. And whatever this is supposed to be.

Townsend Enterprises presents a Townsend Production, written and illustrated and published by N. Townsend. And they say there are no more auteurs! Keep in mind as you enjoy this story that twelve different comic book distributors were filling comic shop racks with non-returnable issues of. Well, this is the third issue. What have we missed?

The story so far! The Time Lords send Doctor Who to... no, wait a minute. The "Temporals" send "Adriac" to Earth to stop Bill "Time Travel" Connors from piercing the Viel of Thyme, but Adriac gets injured trying to prevent the rape of a "part-time hooker." I guess that's a thing you can do part time. So the "Temporals" pick somebody else and give that somebody a special Suit which multiplies strength five times, allows two time-ports every 24 hours, and was built by the sightless people on planet Zaada. This is a lot of information to give us about a suit worn by somebody this comic book can't be bothered to name. And now that we're in ancient Egypt as part of an ancient prophecy, let's begin!

Oh, and apparently in 36 hours Connors' mass will convert to energy and... maybe I can help? explode. That's a big piece of plot to leave out of your "story so far."

Hey, when you're flying around in a pyramid-shaped spaceship with what looks like a dong coming out of the front, and you're being approached by a time travelling nuclear energy-generating executive sporting some sort of amusement park ride harness, the wisest move is to just beam him aboard your dong pyramid.

Meanwhile in Crosshatch Headquarters, we find out that hands aren't the only appendages that are hard to draw. Luckily the special 5 x 2 x 24 suit features fashionable "blob" style footwear.

One human being contains enough nuclear power to open a dimensional stargate? What are we using gasoline for? End that prelude!

Let's re-develope the catalyst causing it's accelleration. And then buy a dictionary.

Getting fashion-shamed by some four-fingered weirdo with a bucket on his head? Perhaps it's time to "interfer" with his appointed tasks!

This is what modern Grindr hookup culture leads to, these pleasure-seeking swingers don't even know each other's names!! (because it looks like they're having sex, thank you)

Glad to see that somewhere in time and space somebody finally perfected that "X-Ray Spex" technology.

I don't know which is more jarring, the typeset lettering telling us to "Have IT for Later EXPERIMENTS" or Connors and his hand-crafted bespoke nerve gas, or how he thinks cancer turns matter into energy, which I'm pretty sure is not a thing cancer does.

text: time and space bend as nuclear energy flows into the stargate image: here's a nice warm comfy blanket

Look, why limit yourself to just one sort of lettering? Explore your options! Fill those balloons with typewriting, letraset, whatever!

Sure, we all saw the Doctor Who episode where they went back in time to ancient Egypt and aliens built the pyramids. But were those aliens worshipped as diet influencers? Because that's what a "dietie" is, right?

Come on, the word "transmat" is a dead giveaway. These people are Dr. Who nerds, they're probably knitting a giant scarf and annoying everyone around them with fake British accents while debating whether or not John Nathan-Turner could take both Pip and Jane Baker in a fistfight.

Get in there and JUMP' 'Em from behind, you ballcap-sporting 5 x 24 x 2 suit wearing guy, whose name we still don't know! JUMP' 'Em!

I'd be in an emotional downward slide too if some buckethead called me a "greeting insect."

One of the hallmarks of the great era of black and white comics was the subtle, masterful use of screentone to add texture and depth to the line art. And then there's this comic just throwing chunks of zip-a-tone around at random.

Hey, if your oxgen is too substational, maybe keep away from the oxgen substation! Ever think of that?

Mercifully, this comic skipped the part where our unidentified hero went through the whole Honeymooners routine, making a lot of hand gestures, hollering ONE OF THESE DAYS, ALICE, BANG, ZOOM! Hey, did you know Jackie Gleason's daughter married Jason Miller, the actor/playwright who portrayed Father Karras in the 1974 classic horror film "The Exorcist"? Well, now you do. So now you can't say us making fun of this comic didn't inadvertently teach you something!

Hey comic, "Sketchy Minimalist Background Aficionado Magazine" called and said to tell you YOU SUCK

Remember. TWELVE different comic book distribution companies thought what America's readers wanted was an incoherent mess of typos, dong-pyramids and poorly applied zip-a-tone. How many of those distributors are still in business? Did investing in "Time Out Of Mind" help to explode most of them like an overloaded Fussion Drive?

Meanwhile, somewhere in the galaxy, Satan's Helmsmen keep the USS Twofingers steady as she goes.

A "Unicycle" is two Earth years. So a bicycle is four years, a tricycle would be six years, and so on? Seems like a strange way to measure time, but you do you, space aliens!

I can only interpret this to mean that he finished last in a race involving eight thousand unicycles.

Charge your batteries, crush your Lzarians, destroy your Solas, whatever. We're just going to sit here and try to put Time Out Of Mind out of OUR mind. See you next unicycle!

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