[[A field of windmills is silhouetted against dusk sky.]]
[[Man and woman are standing and sitting on the ground overlooking the windmills.]]
Man: I'm all for green energy, but those turbines creep me out. They remind me of War of the Worlds, or the Tripod books.
Woman: They -are- unnerving.
Man: I can't shake the feeling that at any moment they'll--
<<RUMBLE>>
[[A leg begins to split off one windmill.]]
<<crack>>
[[The leg separates from the body of the windmill.]]
[[The new leg lands on the ground.]]
<<BOOM>>
[[Another leg begins to split off the other side of the windmill's body.]]
<<crack>>
[[The new leg hits the ground, forming a tripod base.]]
<<BOOM>>
[[Smoke rises from destroyed buildings as the windmills rampage across the field.]]
[[Man and woman are now standing.]]
Woman: Oh no.
Man: Al Gore, you've doomed us all.
Woman: It's coming this way!
Man: Run!
[[One of the enormous tripod windmill feet lands right behind the running couple, sending debris flying.]]
<<BOOM>>
[[Man and woman run.]]
Woman: What now?
Man: Someone has to stop them.
Woman: But who could--
Voice from next panel: Stand aside!
[[Don Quixote sits mounted at the top of a hill, lance at the ready.]]
{{title text: The moment their arms spun freely in our air, they were doomed -- for Man has earned his right to hold this planet against all comers, by virtue of occasionally producing someone totally batshit insane.}}
Warning: this comic occasionally contains strong language (which may be unsuitable for children), unusual humor (which may be unsuitable for adults), and advanced mathematics (which may be unsuitable for liberal-arts majors).
We did not invent the algorithm. The algorithm consistently finds Jesus. The algorithm killed Jeeves. The algorithm is banned in China. The algorithm is from Jersey. The algorithm constantly finds Jesus. This is not the algorithm. This is close.