Of course you know there’d be raccoons.
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Comic
2378 comics.
A lot of my humor comes from people being oblivious about themselves.
I still get tickled at a lot of comments under my other strip The Buckets on GoComics.com. A lot of commenters seem to think of comic strip characters as somehow ‘Other’, meaning ‘not themselves’. When, in fact, I’m often poking fun at the attitudes I’ve come to expect from them in the very comics they don’t see themselves in. I find it very satisfying.
The idea that Bob is like his dad and doesn’t see it is funny to me.
You guys knew there was going to be a dad dream when Hubris sacked out a few days ago, didn’t ya?
I don’t know if it’s still a thing, but when I was in middle school, it was common practice, before a test, to ask “Does spelling count?”
Once, I recall a wag in class asking that before a spelling test. Hilarious.
It all ended one day before a Civics test, when the teacher answered, “You’re not children. Spelling always counts now.”
That was a dark day indeed.
Traffic is a constant source of amazement and lunacy and hatefulness and hilarity- sometimes all at once.
Like the title today?
You know the famous movie ‘The Thing”? Any of them, the old one with James Arness, John Carpenter’s version, or the more recent one- they’re all based on an old short story called “Who Goes There?”
After you read that story and then see the way it was handled in the 50’s version of the film, you wonder what the hell Hollywood was thinking… or why they were incapable of thinking.
On the other hand, that movie did really well, so what do I know?
Seems a shame to do all this planning and then have the people upon whom the whole thing hinges drop the ball. Don’t these grunts know how the management team feels about planning sessions?
Lying on the ground protected by three or four pounds of nylon and goose down is not the best way to deal with wukilars, but whattaya gonna do?
As my dad has always pointed out, keeping the covers up to your chin at night prevents the kidnappers from getting you, and not letting your leg hang over the side of the bed means that nothing can grab you by the ankle. And as we all learn from the movies, when the ghosts and monsters are in your room, you pull the covers over your head to protect yourself.
It seems to work. I’ve never been accosted by wukilars, dust bunnies, witches, ghosts, or kidnappers.
Which is odd, when you think about it.
You know how it is… you’re sleeping in a place you’re not accustomed to sleeping in. The sounds happening around you aren’t the sounds that you get at home. They’re wrong noises, and your brain doesn’t put up with wrong noises. At home? The cat can hork up a hairball on your feet and you sleep through it. Your brain knows the cat. Your brain knows the cat’s noises- even the disgusting ones.
But you try sleeping in a hotel. Big comfy four star hotel. The air conditioner makes a whir that’s a half-step off the note that your air conditioner at home makes. And so, you have nightmares about the end of the earth all night long.
Now, I’m not saying that I stayed up all night long, disturbed by having written the preceding ghost story. Far from it. I was sleeping at home. Also, I giggled myself silly when I hit upon “I just peed myself” at the end.
Us guys with little protection on the roof gotta learn that not every hat can serve to keep off the sunburn. Ask the poor dude who shaves his head for the first time, dons a trucker’s cap, and goes to the ballgame that afternoon.
Ouch.
