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November 19, 1965 |
I don't usually compliment this comic strip because it's usually so meh, but I do want to give credit where credit is due. I love the phrasing of this strip. "Me? Paint myself into a corner?", the scoffing noise, the seemingly sinister implications of "escape hatch" which is just the door leading out of the room. The dastardly set-up (for some reason) makes the joke of the strip even better. Take it down a few notches, Brutus. You remembered not to paint yourself into a corner. Congrats, you did the bare minimum.
I'm just imaging Brutus, who shouldn't want to talk to Mother Gargle in the first place, walking by and going "Hey, Mother Gargle. Not dead yet?" and getting more frustrated and louder each time he repeats it because she can't hear him.
Wilberforce, put your own damn clothes away. And scrub out your own skidmarks.
This is a weird question to ask in your own house. You hear someone talking then it is obviously one of the three people who live in your house. She should also be able to recognize her own husband's voice. Unless Brutus uses different voices when he talks to himself. If so, that's some very impressive insanity.
Ever since I left Twitter, I've been on all the other social networking sites, but none of them have come close to what I had on Twitter. I want to be able to step away but I have a website to think about. I guess I could just stop updating my website...
Hey, whatever gets you to show up.
I bet they didn't even catch a tire or a boot. That's how loser-y these two are. They are also so loser-y that maybe they caught malaria, West Nile, or Zika from those mosquitoes.