Monday, March 31, 2008
Meat Cleaverin' Nutritionist has become a vet...oh no...wait...Pete actually drew a pocket. He also drew a Celtic Cross on a clipboard...and Marmaduke on the wall (Heathcliff/and Marmaduke/what a wacky pair!) So...
Heathcliff is pregnant and is about to beat the piss out of his vet for insinuating that it makes him look like a tuba, even though tubas, having the most curves and the most convenient hole, are the sexist of instruments.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Heathcliff spots a mouse! The mouse's nose alarm goes off, for lack of being a villain from Metal Gear Solid. A chase ensues, but the mouse talks his way out of it. Heathcliff's face becomes an awful amalgam of his own and Cathy's, and he walks away, confident that his kill will come later. Wait...I thought Heathcliff was nice to the mice.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Heathcliff is panicking because Mrs. Nutmeg and Marcy from Peanuts have caught him masturbating to an Animal Planet soap opera about fleas.
The Nutmegs have a pretty fucked up TV. Still using Rabbit Ears in this age of DVR, HDTV, and cable/satellite up-link, but why do the knobs (also: knobs?!?) interfere with the TV screen?
Friday, March 28, 2008
Oh yeah? Well it's probably more dangerous to drive a truck that doesn't have a proper cab or windshield, and even more dangerous to not look where you're going. Next thing you know, there's a bread truck, a sudden stop, And maybe 4000 dead kids and an equally dead cat, all because they didn't just say "Hey you fat fucks, we're out of Yummo Bars(?!?), so get away from our very dangerous truck."
When that front tire makes a half rotation, they're all likely fucked anyhow.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Heathcliff and Spike simultaneously spot a Hostess Cup Cake on the ice and decide to settle it like gentlemen: hockey fight. Heathcliff, being the less retarded of the two, wins via a Dragon Punch. Rather than eat the Cup Cake, Heathcliff acts a fool and cuts an Irish jig, it being close to St. Patrick's Day and all. The rules of hockey (and thus life) are then broken, and a disembodied arm high fives with a cat.
Uhh...wasn't it Spring two days ago?
Edit: Holy shit, the ref is blind!
Friday, March 14, 2008
This is Saturday's Heathcliff. As if you needed any more proof that Pete is phoning it in, this is also something like the fifth time Gallagher has inserted a lame joke into the stock drawing of Heathcliff floating down the steps with his lawyer, who always seems to be gripping the collar of his jacket.
Still though, Heathcliff is really good at pretending to cry.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Heathcliff, being to baseball what Barry Bonds is to baseball, decides to take his bat in for a tune up. The mechanic agrees, not wanting to upset the fat fucker (and also not being averse to an easy payday), so agrees to take a look at the ol' Louisville Slugger. The conclusion?
Heathcliff is fucking retarded.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Heathcliff decides to take his bitch out on a classy date. Rather than dropping a fat wad on some actual good food, Heathcliff decides to drop the same wad on garbage, because when you give a cat human features (like the ability to carry money and decide to go to a classy restaurant) and a choice between a 5 star dinner and garbage, garbage will win every time.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
An increasing number of Heathcliff's have defied explanation, like the one above. In the future, I'll avoid posting them, because I don't want to be all like "hurr...Gallagher don't write no good jokes." That would be the makings of a piss rag of a blog. Y'know...for e-piss.
In any event, the man usually wears his dog on his wrist.