I’m certain being a parent isn’t easy. I myself am anxious for the day when I cross into the realm of fatherhood and have to explain to authorities why my six year old is repaving the driveway, and why an infant is doing some light roofing. (I’d like to say this would never happen but times could be tough.) Naturally, the main aspect of parenting is being able to keep the little rugrat in check throughout various disciplinary means. The hope being that this sculpts them into a productive member of society so they avoid becoming a forty year old schizo with a freezer full of beheaded cats.

I’d like to take a moment and talk to the guys. How you doing guys? Today’s strip is all about bags. Or, more precisely, purses. Have you ever wondered what’s actually in a woman’s purse? Purses vary in size and contain all sorts of things, but there a few items that are common to every woman, no matter her age or where she lives.

Could God make a rock so heavy He couldn’t lift it?

Does God ever get tired of people wondering whether or not He could make a rock like that? Does God ever say, “Let Me just make this heavy rock and then lift it so people finally shut up about it”?

How quickly could God sell out Madison Square Garden if He agreed to make and lift the rock in front of thousands of fans/gamblers? My friend’s band–they’re called Old Boner–could open for Him.

I actually wasn’t intending to do a follow-up to last week’s comic, but this idea popped into my head and I just can’t say no to a Super Mario Bros. reference. Not ever.

Plus, I got to thinking that if Annie was creating children out of food–perishable food–then those kids were going to start rotting at some point unless she had built some sort of refrigerated bassinet. Which she hasn’t.

Dear Foods That I Have Eaten in Cars,

For decades now you’ve been my moveable feast, my chow-down conspirator. You’ve entertained me, sustained me, fulfilled me, and thrilled me in various vehicles across the continent. For your devoted companionship I will forever be grateful. Which is why it pangs me (and I do mean pangs) to announce that, although my feelings for you are as fresh as the day we met, our journey of dietary delights must now come to an end.

Don’t take it personally, Foods That I Have Eaten in Cars. You’re still the sizzling hot sustenance I fell in love with years ago. It’s not you —it’s me.