It’s been a rainy summer this year. Maybe not cold and rainy, like it is in this comic, but rainy nonetheless. And that, my friends, is kind of a bummer.

Two men sit in a booth in a dimly lit restaurant. One man is a newspaper reporter, the other is an FBI agent.

Okay, the tape’s rolling. So how did you find yourself surveilling the hotel room in Phoenix?

One of our men was meeting with a big-time American dealer. Our agent was posing as a Mexican drug baron looking to unload an enormous quantity of coke. The dealer was this dirtbag who sold to kids in the Tuscon area. We’d been trying to nab him for two years.

I can’t think of a better tattoo than a face on the back of someone’s head. I’m sure someone has done this in real life, although I haven’t seen any examples. It’s probably terrifying.

If there is one thing I love in this world, one thing it’s impossible to ruin, it is a period piece that brings together a talented cast. It’s a chance to discover the next big thing; a chance to enjoy those who have been chosen to work together because they’re at the top of their

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At the risk of sounding like a bitter, barren old shrew, your kids aren’t that cute. I can tell by the way you’re smiling and applauding them that this is their first time throwing their own garbage away in a public trashcan, but I don’t need to be a part of this milestone in your child’s life. Please save the lessons and the exercises for home or the classroom and keep them out of my local Panera.