(Rather than just screaming EMBIGGENATE, DAMN YOU! try clicking on the image.)
There is some debate over whether dogs actually feel and understand guilt or if, over the many thousands of years they have lived alongside humans they have simply evolved to pretend to be contrite when we express anger. As much as I love dogs and want to attribute higher emotional and mental functions to them, I’ve come to believe it’s an act.
We currently live with two canine bitches (no judgment, just proper nomenclature) one of which is almost five years old, the other less than one year old. The elder chewed and destroyed things around the house for the first couple of years, then gradually figured it out and has not been a “bad girl” since. The younger is now firmly in the destructive stage.
When we arrive home to find things chewed up and strewn about, we express anger. The older dog, who is doubtless innocent, cowers and appears wracked with guilt. She seems authentically sorrier for what she’s done than Chris Christie was that he supported Trump before the election. Meanwhile, the younger one wags her tail and hops around because she’s glad to see us, angry or otherwise.
We’ve found that no matter what interrogation techniques we use, the younger dog will neither confess nor even register that she has any idea what we’re talking about. She’s either simply too young to get it or she’s much more diabolical than we are assuming. Only time will tell.
While we’re on the topic, why don’t manufacturers of things dogs and cats like to destroy make them from a material that biologically repels them? GMOs are a big topic of controversy but where are the genetically modified shoes, cushions, and furniture that we so desperately need?
In Los Angeles, there is a terrific radio station that has a show called “Left, Right & Center” which inspired a friend of mine who lives there to think of the pun “Left, Right & Centaur”. He emailed me about it and I came up with the above setting and punchline for it. I added his name to the bottom of the cartoon as thanks for the donation.
I wanted it to read “horse’s ass,” of course, but too many of my client newspapers would have objected to the use of that word on the funny pages, so I had to sanitize it for your protection. I hope you all feel clean and protected.
There is most certainly no bigger horse’s ass in Washington than Der Führer Trump, but he is most certainly not the only one. Over ninety percent of Republicans qualify at the moment simply for allowing him to get into office and not raising a finger to stop his authoritarian, fascist policies. And then there’s also their other horrendous behavior like attempting to take health insurance away from tens of millions of non-rich Americans. Soon they will lower taxes on polluting corporations and the rich and taxes for the poor and middle class will rise. Just watch. (If at this point you still think the GOP cares about anyone other than the top 1% wealthiest Americans, your head is so far up your ass you’re going to need every penny of that health insurance you almost lost to remove it.)
I sat on a jury in a civil trial once and have been called up more than a dozen times. (I’m just lucky like that.) As a juror, I deliberated with other jurors and as a prospective juror, I have heard the questions and comments of many dozens of other prospective jurors during voir dire. From these experiences, I have determined that I will do everything in my power not to EVER let my fate fall into the hands of a “jury of my peers”.
If you think I’m being overly cynical, just look at how many people think worshipping the American flag like a mindless puppet is more important than the rights of free speech and peaceful protest that the flag symbolizes. At least a few of those folks are likely to be on your jury. And if nearly a quarter of Americans couldn’t see from a mile away what a worthless, self-serving charlatan Donald Trump was and chose to vote for him, it is likely around a quarter of your jury will be similarly judgmentally and intellectually deficient. Good luck with that.
DISCLAIMER: The above cartoon does NOT advocate bestiality nor insinuate homosexuality. The male-appearing rodeo clown is actually a masculine lesbian and the bull is a fully consenting adult. Neither stood when the National Anthem was played before the rodeo, however, so feel free to complain about that if you like.
I’ve not been in the dating pool for some time now and have no plans or wishes to return so would some of you who are reading this please try this line on some folks and let me know how it works?
This mermaid gag got a lot of questions, mostly from foreigners who didn’t understand the reference, which is an American idiom. I assume there are many Americans who didn’t get it either so allow me to explain. For quite a long time, American teenagers have used baseball terms to talk about how far they went sexually with a partner. “First base” is kissing (passionately, not like you kiss your elderly aunt at Christmas––unless you do and if that’s the case, yuck) “second base” is touching female breasts under or over clothing, “third base” is touching below the waist but not intercourse, and a “home run” is intercourse. (Don’t even ask what “fouling out,” “hitting the batter,” “charging the mound,” or “fumbling a grounder” is.)
In the case of mermaids, a person can really only get to “second base”. I suppose she could lay eggs and a male could try to ejaculate onto the eggs, but that’s hardly worthy of the original meaning of “home run”.
Considering the overtly sexual nature of this cartoon, I’m surprised (and thankful) that none of my client editors complained or asked for a replacement. Bizarro got canceled in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel this week, however, so it is possible that this cartoon (and/or my political ones) may have been why. If you live in that market, please email or call them and complain about Bizarro’s cancellation. Local readers and subscribers are the only people who have any sway over these kinds of decisions. Those of us here at Rancho Bizarro will be in your debt!
Don’t worry, kids. No matter how lousy Santa’s health, he’s reportedly been alive for more than 1500 years so I wouldn’t worry about him dropping dead anytime soon.
If you enjoy the humor, art, and/or opinions you get from Bizarro and read it online for free, please consider visiting my new store and helping to support my efforts by purchasing some gifts for yourself or others. If that doesn’t appeal, you can make a one-time donation or ongoing monthly contribution to my Tip Jar. The links below tell you about a couple other ways to be a patron of Bizarro. Olive Oyl and I deeply appreciate your readership and financial support and am proud to call every one of you Jazz Pickles our imaginary friends!
Until next week, be smart, be happy, be nice!