You’re the king, Comic Sans. You’re the king.
If you were summertime apparel, you’d be cut-off jean shorts with a carpenter loop. If you were a hairstyle, you’d be a mullet (obviously). You’re an above-ground pool. A goatee on a bald guy. A three-wolf moon shirt.
You have older siblings. Times New Roman went to Harvard. He’s a doctor! Arial went to Princeton. She’s a lawyer! Verdana went to Yale. She started a non-profit with Papyrus! (You find Papyrus needlessly condescending. So do all the other fonts, am I right?)
You dropped out of Mid-Tech Regional Community College in 1996 to follow Phish around. You’re not really all that into Phish, but you, Impact and Webdings got a good deal on an old school bus together and sold grilled cheeses before every show. And you have to admit the Alpine Valley set that year was pretty mind-blowing.
Everyone at the rooftop social is drinking Malbec and craft beer; you show up with a half-dozen Budweiser tall-boys and park your Tercel in front of a hydrant.
“What’s to be done with Comic Sans?!” the other fonts bellow, their lines clean, their angles sharp, their curves mathematical. “We shall suffocate Comic Sans with ridicule and non-use!” bellow designers from new and old media alike. Yet millions of tweens and senior citizens can’t be wrong. When there’s a digital birthday card to be made, Comic Sans is there. When the church bulletin has to go out, Comic Sans is there. If there’s a website on the internet from before 2000, Comic Sans reigns supreme.
Then there’s your no-good sidekick, Impact. Aren’t you two ashamed of yourselves?
“No, I am not,” says Comic Sans.
“No, I am not,” says Impact.
Impact is the Robin to your Batman; the socks to your sandals; the Tim Horton’s to your Dunkin’ Donuts. At the end of the day, Webdings is just a little too crazy for your liking. Impact understands and is okay with that.
“I am okay with that,” says Impact.
You represent the working man, Comic Sans. You have no time for manicures — lawn, fingernails or otherwise. You still read the newspaper. You pay for everything with cash. Your downstairs rumpus room has wood-paneled walls, one of which showcases a Big Mouth Billy Bass with fresh batteries. There’s an old piano in your sitting room, but you never much learned to play it. You’ll find another font and settle down someday, but you’re not in any rush. Your front door has an American flag hanging above it. This flag must never, ever, ever touch the ground.
You’re the king, Comic Sans. Don’t apologize. Never give up.
Hate Comic Sans? Blame this Microsoft virtual assistant [Ars Technica]