It goes on like that. Ordinarily, you'd probably want to presume some degree of facetiousness in such a trivial epistle, but anyone who has a passing familiarity with the Chronicle's annual comic polls knows that there are a lot of people out there who take their comics waaaayyy too fuckin' seriously. Actual adults rending digital cloth, much anguish over maybe giving something new a shot, instead of sitting through another endless forty-year slog of stale Peanuts reruns.
They shitcanned Zippy the Pinhead, but by god we'll have Charlie Brown coming out our asses for the next two generations. Or maybe if guys like this had their way, they'd inflict Mallard Fillmore or Day by Day -- really, the comics equivalent of sarin gas -- on an unsuspecting populace, to keep the comics page fair and/or balanced. This guy probably has a Lockhorns shrine in the back corner of his sex dungeon, behind the ball-gag and the hitchhiker corpses.
Look, if you're over the age of, say, nine, and you really give a shit one way or the other what's on the comics page, something's wrong with you. I don't think I'd notice or care if the comics page disappeared altogether, and more often than not, the most consistently funny comic in the Chronicle is their very own Bad Reporter.