Harg’s death has made me depressed. I wonder what will happen if I try to deal with the depression the way Harg did. Ha ha ha! This is fun….

You know, I can see why he did so much of this. All day….

kind of dizzy now hate WHAT NOT HAPPEN.

why why why why WHY~!~!~!!!!

wait STOP I UNDERSTAND why harg killed himself here is the pen/ultimate cartoon why soon all will mak e sence

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Harg Barg Burg was a good friend of mine who got in a race with concrete. The good news is, he was moving way faster, but the bad news is, he rear-ended the concrete. And by rear-ended, I mean fell on and busted open his skull, but that strays away from my pretty little metaphor.

Here, Harg Barg Burg tried something different, but I think it just upset him.

Harg did not fully understand either politics or puns, but damned if he didn’t try. He wanted, more than anything else, to be insightful and praised for being a worthwhile human being. …Unfortunately, he was more likely to get anything else.

Harg was all about catharsis, but I don’t think he knew what it meant. Usually he expressed his feelings a little too well, and just wound up breaking things.

I don’t know what he had in mind for this one, but I am disappointed that we’ll never know. It looks like he was pretty disappointed with it, too.

This was around when he started his downward spiral.

…And that’s the middle of the story. Soon, we get to his graphic end.

He called them “DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME”.

Harg Barg Burg was very angry. He objected to pretty much anything, usually without hearing what it was he was objecting to. It was this cute little affectation of his… I’m tearing up over here remembering what it used to be like.

Harg Barg Burg liked to laugh at himself. Problem was, he would usually cry afterwards.

Perhaps the saddest thing about this is that Harg Barg Burg drew inspiration for his comics from his daily life. He was trying, I think, to gain power over evil through laughter. I don’t think it worked.

Harg seems to have taken a political bent with this one… I think.

Sometimes Harg would get fixated on a concept and talk about it for hours while doodling with his left hand and crying. He was a real good sport about things.

He left them all to me in this giant fucking crate in his attic. It was the only thing in his will he left to anybody who exists outside of his fragile little mind, so I considered it quite an honor. The world will miss you, dearest Harg.

Some more of Harg’s art has been put on display here.