Dear Jonathan, My best friend and I have been joined at the hip since high school. We’re two normal married guys, but now we’re labeled as a “bromance” and everyone seems to judge us strangely for it. What should we do? A few years ago, I went to Hooters. A lady friend of mine had

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WARNING: Today’s comic contains images of a blurry penis in a jar. If you’re offended by blurry penises in jars, you probably shouldn’t look at today’s comic. If you’re at work, you also probably shouldn’t look at today’s comic, unless you’re a urologist and penises are part of the job.

New York was invented in 1825 as a settlement for skydwellers—otherworldly beings that could only acclimate themselves to ground existence by gradually living lower and lower in altitude. This “Great Migration from the Skyspace” as discussed by Dr. M.J. Fox in his L’Hommes Lunare Et Skie was carried out through many of the tallest buildings still standing in New York today, just as they were in the year 1825.

Many of us like to believe that we’re simply better at some aspects of life than other people. Perhaps you’re a chess whiz, can easily spot the difference between real and fake hair (I minored in it), or know how to dispose of a dead body. All of us are a little better at some

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Today we’re going to get a little bit artsy and a little bit philosophical. What is art, friends? Is it an abstract rendition of emotions otherwise impossible to convey in mundane shapes and colors? Is it a painting done with such skill that it borders on photorealism? Is it a photograph in a tasteful frame, possibly in black-and-white, or at the very least some sort of sepia shade, making it look like it was taken in cowboy times?