Heathcliff, explained.

Heathcliff is airing himself out after intercourse. Mr. Nutmeg, no stranger to Heathcliff's sexual deviancy, is used to the smell.

I can hardly contain my laughter.

It probably isn't Heathcliff's birthday, but confusion on the part of the singing hot dog, what with the lack of eye holes and the pain from his broken arm.

Snowballing with the umpire is a good way to get ejected from the game.

Circled: Eight unexplainable things.

21st century, motherfucker!

Heathcliff is down with the modern culture!










(And 30-year-old "humor" from Garfield.)

If Heathcliff is so satisfied, why does the fishmonger have a look on his face that says "That cat just ate my children?" instead of a used-car salesman grin/thumbs up?

This is as brilliant as Heathcliff will ever be, folks.

Not pictured: the pyramid of shaved dogs with bags over their heads, seconds before Heathcliff turns on the hose.

He'll miss.

I win.

"But if it did, Joan Rivers would be so fucking wasted!"