Dear Agony Aunt I am writing to you because I have nobody else to turn to and I need to know about the whole question of forever which is a topic you don’t think about much or at least I never did until my boyfriend announced he was going to get me a diamond ring and

I would argue that you shouldn’t be Winslow in this comic, but you should try to avoid being Ben, too. The Bens of the world know far too many Winslows, and they’re  slowly being crushed by them.

A mob of angry mimes gathered.  They seemed to be sharpening swords or loading pistols, I couldn’t tell.  Also, they weren’t really good mimes.  But there they were amassed outside the city, so we called an emergency meeting with the police and city manager and a retired guy who loitered at all these events. 

Nothing like a new year to get you in the mood for trying new things, eating healthy, and bettering yourself through art, exercise, and education.

So I met Ernest Hemingway. He was kind of drunk and obnoxious, and I didn’t want to engage, but he got belligerent when I mentioned “Revolutionary Road” by Richard Yates, and had he read it, and how good it was, and how it was better than anything Ernie wrote. That pissed him off so he tried to start a fight. He was so drunk he took a couple of swings at me that weren’t even close to my head, so I just backed off. It got boring after a while so I popped him in the schnozz, and he went down and passed out, not because of my punch, but because he was way too drunk.