Editors’ note: The opinions and ideas expressed in The Accidental Gentrifist are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the outlook and belief of anyone else in the Ist network.

The main thing in common between people who are so unbelievably punk rock, and people who are so unbelievably slack, is that they hardly ever realize it. Unless of course they happen to be both. And they record their every single day in a ham-fisted and extremely popular comic. I‘m speaking, of course, about Ben Snakepit: the peripatetic but Austin-based comic artist who renders himself as a widow’s-peaked punker in a black, skull-emblazoned t-shirt, like maybe he’s the Punisher’s poorly-drawn little brother.

For the better part of the last decade, Ben White has written an autobiographical three-panel daily comic, each with the date and a theme song recorded above. Originally, they were DIY incarnate—monthly bundles of 8½x11 sheets folded in half and hand-stapled with a red cover, plus a couple of one-shots. Then Ben got a leg up when Young American Comics started distributing his stuff, and years later he now has a pair of pretty, glossy-covered anthologies in print, put out by Gorsky Press and Microcosm Publishing, respectively.

This is not an interview with a minor local celebrity, so he’s not going to get a chance to speak on his own behalf. Nor is this a critical product review, so I’m not going to compare his new book to his old one, or get into details on where or how to buy anything. This is simply my unabashed declaration of affection for Ben’s work.

Stuff like Ben’s comic is often erroneously labeled Outsider Art. Unlike Daniel Johnston, if Ben’s work ever gets thumb-tacked to the walls of The Whitney, SFMOMA, or Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Art (which, if Johnston is any indicator, it will, someday), Snakepit will instead be classified as Naïve. Although no longer as true, Outsiders have typically been patients in sanitariums, the ‘touched’, and other drooling sociopaths who make badass art despite being basically ignorant of what the art world considers to be bad, or for that matter, ass. Naïve is on par and similarly primitive, yet the self-taught artist knows what’s considered mainstream, and may even belong—roughly speaking—to a school. Ben’s ‘schools’ include Zine, Punk Rock, and DIY—not to mention the inimitable pre-Structural artistic movement known as ‘Getting Xerox hookups from friends,’ and, of course, the largely Texan post-realistic phenomenon known as ‘Lone Star & Weed.’ True to this mold, Ben’s only art school experience compelled him to stop drawing. For years.

The word ‘naïve’, stripped of its pejorative connotation, is a good description of Snakepit for other reasons. While the comic has gotten a smidge flashier over the past few years, it’s hasn’t developed in any manner that would suggest Ben is trying to improve. On the contrary, the sheer discipline of his daily drawing is only excelled by his ethic to not let his art evolve—to keep it crude/shitty/primitive, whatever. Years ago, another Austin artist tried to amicably imitate Ben’s shtick, drawing his own daily yawner. It was an attempt that failed on several levels, most obviously by the crisp, perspective-oriented, Marvel-like images in each panel. That comic had a sharp look but a distinct lack of sincerity. Sincerity, after all, is what keeps Ben buffered from total narcissism.

The drawing style is bound to the comic’s unflinching honesty. (Incidentally, the sound of Ben shitting his pants while riding his bike home from Taco Cabana is “splort.”) Occasionally, Ben’s only about three steps on the good and legal side of the division between ‘Charming Romantic’ and ‘Budding Stalker’. But despite his many trials, heartbreaks and disappointments, he seems to exist in a semi-real zen state of measured happiness. Talking on the phone with new a girl, cleaning his room, and going vegan all day become hefty accomplishments. Plus, when you read a three-year anthology over four or five sittings, you get the wide view of a life, and the impression that Ben's trials never seem to last for too long.

The secret to this life is unhidden. It's found of the pages themselves, chronicling years and years of getting drunk, hanging out with friends, and meeting girls who—no matter how poorly drawn—always look cute as little buttons. In short, if there’s any code at all to being Ben Snakepit, it seems to be: have fun, love your mom, don’t cling to disappointment, and, if you find something you really like, do it every day.

[Comics used with permission. From My Life in a Jugular Vein: Three More Years of Snakepit Comics Copyright © 2007 by Ben Snakepit. If you can’t find it, you don’t have a computer and aren’t reading this. Or, for a quick fix, just go to Austin Books on Lamar.]