Die Buchwalds

Stupid bee holders’ eyes, keeping all the humor. My comic today contains some very important advice. And one of the most favoritest lines of mine ever that I have written.

Amy doesn’t understand the humor content level of taking a relatively simple premise (grandchildren being children with all the fun and none of the inconveniences we had grown to love, or at least get used to) and then taking that presence, hitting it with a fast-moving positron or nuetron or some other tiny, fast-moving partical, like the particle of a cow, and mutating it into a completely ludicrous proposal. That proposal is that children are like taxes. How are they like taxes? They aren’t, but my mutation got them to be. Pretty soon our children will be walking around saying, “Hello, my name is W4, pleestameecha!” Well not our children, strictly speaking; they don’t exist yet.

But it’s okay, because I don’t understand her love of Punky Brewster. I suppose it averages out in the end. We could then find the essential supremum of the set of our differences and learn which activities exploded our understanding. It’ll be a grand ol’ party! Fiesta, that is.

Posted in Comic | By Matt at 9:01 am | Comments(1)