The celebrity memoir that doesn’t live up to its expectations has become as ubiquitous as the genre itself. Even more disappointing are the tell-alls penned by authors looking to cash-in on their often-tenuous associations to figures of public curiosity.

Rarely do these books by jilted lovers, former friends or estranged children deliver on their claims.

Today’s strip is pretty simple. In fact, the only reason it exists is because last week I drew a raccoon stealing sausages from Annie, and I wanted to follow up with a picture of him sharing his spoils with Winslow. It seems like something Winslow would do.

Dear Friends:

I wish to personally apologize for all that went wrong with our first beekeeping workshop last Saturday at Chauncey Farm.

So. Here were are at last.

It’s time for the April 2014 issue of Defenestration, everyone! Last year Eileen and I took a break from the magazine to rest our fragile bodies and minds. Three months in a chemical bath and several cybernetic upgrades later, we reopened Defenestration to submissions and got back to work. The response was truly humbling. We started getting submissions immediately–and so many were awesome that we ended up holding on to more for consideration than we ever had before. That made choosing the content for this issue a little more difficult than usual, but Eileen and I are professionals and know how to handle these sorts of things. (We never resort to violence, unless that doesn’t work and we’re forced to resort to violence.

As we get older
we seem to get on each other’s nerves