Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

Bil and Thel had a happy marriage.

Well, it seems dumb ol’ Jeffy’s presenting the argument for couples’ counseling/reconciliation.

And now with a keen URL medallion (not Josh-approved,  (or “Shoe” approved, either) but I was just goofing around with it, and “snarkitupfuzzball.nexiliscom.com” just wouldn’t fit).

And since Dennis Mitchell is responsible for all of this, it’s nice to know that AT LAST he’s regained his oft-shunned title of “the Menace”:

So the new Spiderman plot revolves around Mole Man.   Fine.   But since when does a mole have tentacles?

And sure, tentacles can be scary, particularly coming out of a manhole cover, but I’m betting there’s worse.

No, not really.  It’s just that Aunt May might as well just join a traveling circus — she’s looking more and more decrepit with each passing Spiderman storyline, so she might as well pad her Social Security check by hiring herself out as “Wife of the Cryptkeeper.”  Yeesh!

It’s The Meaning of Life Day! (101010 is binary for 42.)

It’s the tenth day of October in the A.D. 2010!

It’s even Breast Cancer Awareness Day!

And in keeping with that last notice, cartoonists associated with the King Features Syndicate have pinkified their Sunday strip upon pain of death to promote breast cancer awareness.  Since most of the strips had nothing to actually DO with breast cancer, most of them looked like that latest ecological disaster from Hungary had infiltrated the funny pages, but when the boss says “Jump!”, most folks do accordingly.

Speaking of ecological disasters, even Mark Trail wasn’t spared the rosy brush of the color monkeys today.  And the plethora of cotton candy-colored bears inspired me!

And just because Mooch the Cat knows pink when he sees it:

Suddenly the thought of being quarry in a lame-ass “canned hunt” doesn’t seem so terribly bad, huh? *

* Completely sarcastic.  If you can’t manage to actually “hunt,” and accept the responsibility of endangering yourself or possibly failing (oh, not, not that! Me Big-Game Hunter!), you shouldn’t be out there.  Go and shoot a package of weenies at the Safeway deli counter, you moron.

Yes, I hope Mark Trail punches the crap out of Frank and his cronies.   I’d be even happier if Frank’s wife Beth punches the crap out of Frank.

In the meantime:

…because the first two panels (identical from the strip) pretty much do all the telling.

…or as Yogi might say, “It’s déjà vu all over again“.

Heh.

Women who nickname themselves Kat or Kitty make me nuts.  Most of them don’t resemble the sleek, noble beats by any stretch of the imagination.

Of course, I’ve known a few who have real behavioral issues, so maybe it isn’t too far from the mark.

(I just love playing with Bucky in Photoshopland…)

Big Daddy rents a beach condo, where Mommy can cook, clean and chase after their four miserable offspring; he calls it a vacation.  Well, maybe it’s someone’s idea of a vacation — and it might be surprising as who’s it is:

Mommy: 1  Jeffy: 0

Mommy: 2  Billy: 0  Big Daddy Bil: 0

And the swath of annihiliation continues:

And Mommy successfully scores the hat-trick, plus two.  Next stop:  “The Cougar Cabana — Home of the 48-ounce pina colada and the hottest mamas on the prowl!”

The orange, gelled-up hair…and good lord! The pointy ears! Come on, kids of the late 60s/early 70s! Who else could it be?!?

Good guess! Sing along, if you’d like!

I’m Mister Green Christmas
I’m Mister Sun
I’m Mister Heat Blister
I’m Mister Hundred and One
They call me Heat Miser,
What ever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch
I’m too much!
He’s Mister Green Christmas
He’s Mister Sun
He’s Mister Heat Blister
He’s Mister Hundred and One
They call me Heat Miser,
What ever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch
He’s too much!
Thank you!
I never want to see a day
That’s under sixty degrees
I’d rather have it eighty, Ninety, one hundred degrees!
(spoken) Oh, some like it hot, but I like it REALLY hot! Hee hee!
He’s Mister Green Christmas
He’s Mister Sun
Sing it!
He’s Mister Heat Blister
He’s Mister Hundred and One
They call me Heat Miser,
What ever I touch Starts to melt in my clutch
I’m too much!
Too Much!

Also acceptable is the following: