This week's are a bunch of scraps laying around. A bit agro in places. I'm fond of the drawing in today's. I like drawing Hutch in the mud as often as I can.

The voting booths in Brooklyn are far far worse. Like driving a rusty forklift.

Leela said this phrase to me one day on an airplane. It seemed like a charming thing for Dennis Wormster/Worner to say.

I'm convinced I"m going to get angry mail about this one, because it's so blatantly violent. I am always charmed by the reckless violence of say, The Young Ones, or other modern slapsticks. To me, the idea of threatening someone with a drinking straw is somewhat funny. Not hilarious, not the stuff of lengthy themes, but worth a nicely-drawn one-off.

I don't know why I seem to be the only person noticing (for years in fact) this trend of advertisers asking you what's in you this and that. It's ridiculous: invasive and cloying. I can't believe anyone has any stats that those types of phrases actually work. The final one in this strip is real, belonging to a brand I'm already reasonably loyal to for a valid reason: they make a good product. But they still want to hook me by triggering the neurons in my brain usually reserved for shudders of revulsion when having to clean up after my cat...