Blood. Knives. Gore. Stick figures. Welcome to the wonderful world of Adam Thorn and “Censor This,” his morbidly hilarious cartoon. This comic strip is not (and I repeat, not) for the weak of heart, stomach, or sense of humor. If you don’t laugh in Pulp Fiction when John Travolta gets shot ‘cause he was reading on the pot, you probably won’t enjoy it. If you find horror movies ‘gross’ or ‘distasteful,’ you can probably save your time. If you don’t like “bathroom humor,” don’t even bother to look it over. If your stomach turns at the sight of blood, definitely don’t read it. Unless, of course, you do like having your face in close proximity to the toilet . . .

If, however, you do pass all those tests, READ IT! You will love it. You will laugh until you begin to worry that your head, like so many of the stick figures before you, is going to explode. Don’t worry, though; to my knowledge, most readers remain in stable condition post-”Censor This.”

For any newcomers to this masterpiece of a comic strip, I come bearing tidings of joy, comfort and joy. Though you have missed out on an indescribably glorious pleasure by not reading the cartoons published in the Guilfordian each week, there is hope. You can catch up on all the back editions, because Adam, sensitive as he is to our needs, has published a collected “Censor This,” entitled “Stick Figures Bleed Black.”

“Our prayers have been answered,” you might say, entirely understandably. “What more could we want?”

Well, amazingly enough, the generosity of Mr. Thorn knows no limits. He has given us the additional grandeur of his unpublished cartoons and even includes several editorials responding to the comic strip. (Go ahead. Let the contented sigh escape you . . . Life is good.)

But don’t let yourself be limited by the merely two-dimensional black-and-whiteness of “Censor This,” for there is more to Adam than that. The comedian has been seen running around Guilco, wearing a gas mask. He is a Buddy Holly devotee, and enjoys long, romantic walks on the beach and good conversation. He does not drink, or smoke, or do any of those other nasty things our mothers warned us about. And he’s even got a bit of ambition; “I just want to be a working-class hero,” says the delightfully modest Mr. Thorn.

Adam Thorn is my hero. While discussing his brilliant new book with me, the proud author, ever the mooch, managed to snag some of the beans and rice from the Guadalajara semester’s presentation. Since he lacked the foresight to steal a utensil as well, he was forced to rely on his own resources.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed an old computer disk off the table in front of him and proceeded to use it, spoon-style, to shovel food into his mouth. “This is very 21rst century,” he commented, a few grains of rice stuck to his chin. God, what a guy . . .

Who else would do this? No one. At all. Search high and low, kiddies. You’re not gonna find anyone else as fantastically random as this, and you’re not gonna find any book as hysterically gory as this one. As Jeff Jeske, an English professor here at Guilford, said, “There’s something for all of us to learn here . . . . You’re holding a stick of dynamite in your hands.”

Adam Thorn is Guilford’s own, personal Jesus. He will guide you, like a shepherd, through the stick figure world and deliver you safely to the other side. He will protect you from atomic dogs and stray bullets, from boogy-men and tapeworms. “Censor This” is the word and the way, and it’s available for exactly three to five dollars. Read Adam’s book. Study his parables. Believe in his words. Ask him into your heart. Amen.