Bah. Very late. Very awful. I’ll return to form next week with some political crap.
Feliz whatever the hell it is you celebrate. If you’re so inclined, you can watch last night’s show here. I hope the audio isn’t too fuzzy for you.
And for anyone who was offended by The Rise of the Pagan Right, watching this will probably make your head explode.
At some point in the future, we’ll post some web-only stuff in a desperate attempt at becoming the next internet comedy darlings.
Update: If you feel like commenting on the sketches or have an irresistible urge to rate them, you can do that on our YouTube page.
Sorry for the late update. Here’s a bunch of fake toys for the two of you who are on the interwebs instead of doing some Christmassy crap.
Come back later this weekend for a special holiday surprise.
Come to the Tribe Theater and see my sketch troupe, The Good Students’ second show, guaranteed to be more polished and sacrilegious than our first. Is that not enough for you? Well Mr. Picky, Bragging to Children is also all the bill for that night.
$7 – advance purchase
$10 – at the door
The Tribe Theater is located in Boston’s Theater District at 67 Stuart St.
Johnny Damon’s a Yankee. That almost makes up for the fact that the 2006 Red Sox season is shaping up to be the shittiest shit stain in Boston baseball since No No Nanette. Who will those homophobes in the bleachers mock now that the pretty one is one of them?
Schadenfreude aside, I have no hope or expectations for the 2006 Red Sox. 2005 was a showcase for mismanagement, and things are only getting worse. The Red Sox will be an expensive wet fart that amounts to nothing come the post season. But at least Red Sox nation won’t be embracing the overpaid douchebag they’ve been claiming to hate* once spring training starts.
*Doesn’t count if Rojah comes back.
Sorry for slacking off on the political content here, but every topical thought I’ve had lately has made its way into a cartoon, leaving very little to opine on here. I can only hope that the Republican implosion continues through aught six, the Democrats develop and maintain message discipline for the midterms, and that America finally begins to emerge from this giant cry-baby/ wounded animal mentality that has crippled political discourse for four years.
Speaking of ’06, I’d like to throw my completely non-existent clout towards the candidacy of Deval Patrick. I think it’s a crime that his campaign has yet to raise more money than my student loan debt.
I have no idea why Tom Reilly is the front runner for the governorship of Massachusetts. I’ve lived in Massachusetts for all but five years of my life and the only thing I know about him is that he approved of gay marriage only after it was obvious that the Massachusetts public overwhelmingly didn’t give a shit what gay strangers did with their lives.
That’s all for now. I have to bang my head against a wall to drown out the sound of assholes defending a police state.
Greetings Funky Bunch. Sorry this cartoon stinks; especially since a lot of people just came across this comic strip on account of last week’s comic. I promise I’m not always this lame. I just had a bunch of other crap that needed to get done before the holidays and doing this freed enough time for me to build a gingerbread outhouse. It was for dying children. So if you complain, you sir, are an asshole.
Babies on a Plane is a reference to Snakes on a Plane, which will become the 21st Century’s Citizen Kane. It’s not a coincidence that they all rhyme.
Next week I take an in-depth look at this year’s most overlooked toy sensations. It will not be an exercise in half-assery like this week’s garbage.
If Showtime picks up Arrested Development, I’ll spring for a subscription and subject myself to whatever the hell else they put on the air.
In unrelated Christmas news, the post office is a depressing showcase of all that’s wrong with humanity.
I ended up doing way too much research for this cartoon. Everyone who sincerely believes Christmas is under assault is a fucking moron and not worth all the time I wasted looking up various pagan winter solstice rituals.
People have been celebrating in the dead of winter forever. It’s a miserable time of year. It gets dark at 4 in the afternoon. If there wasn’t a month long party and houses decked in pretty blinking lights, anyone with half a brain would blow their fucking brains out. Early Christians just had the good sense to tack Jesus onto all of the heathens’ fun.