I'm just old enough to remember the early days of webcomics, when everyone sneered at the old newspaper comics like Blondie or B.C. that had obviously used up what little scrap of creativity they'd ever had decades ago, and now just shambled on, written by the sons of the sons of the men who'd bought out the original authors, forever rehashing the same stale "jokes" to elicit the faintest of smiles from aging readers who dimly associated it with things they liked in their youth. Bill Watterson was admired for putting Calvin & Hobbes to rest gracefully as soon as he realized that he couldn't keep on writing things consistent with his own standards. The internet, it was predicted, would change things. Now that there were no gatekeepers and anyone could publish their own comic, the market forces driving newspaper comics would be irrelevant, so weird, irreverent auteur products would flourish, and a new golden age of comic strips would result.
So I find it beautiful to watch what began as one of the weirdest, most self-consciously postmodern and occasionally even avant-garde webcomics get sold off and turned into a commercial product written and designed by a committee of randos who're good at sucking dick and making industry connections, because it's too profitable and influential to be allowed to die. Just like Blondie, or Mark Trail, or Gasoline Alley. And to watch all the people involved pat themselves on the back about how "important" their work is because it contains themes that fall in line with currently fashionable politics, knowing that these people once prided themselves on their off-kilter refusal to fall in line with mass society... my God, it's all such an absolutely perfect tragic arc that I'm amazed to see it play out in the real world.