Today we move away from the hedonistic world of gummi bears and into the cuter realm of child-inspired comics. “My birthday is in a submarine” is something my three-year old has been telling me for the past month, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what he’s talking about. I told him his birthday was in August, and he answered, “Yes. August is a submarine.”

Your guess is as good as mine, folks.

Ha! I do not even know, guys. I popped two gummi bears in my mouth the other day, and almost immediately, the dialogue for this strip magically appeared in my head. It was such a stupid idea that it made me laugh out loud, so I set aside the strip I had originally planned to draw for today and threw this one together instead.

I sometimes wonder what the hell is going on in Winslow’s mind, and then I remember that I’m the one putting those thoughts into his head in the first place….

Whenever I hear chefs or cooking enthusiasts or members of the Recipe Card Guild talk about ingredients, I can’t help but think they’re making things up. They could do it, too, and no one would be the wiser. Even other chefs. It’s probably an unspoken rule among chefs that they aren’t supposed to call one another out on made up herbs and spices.

Just because something’s cute doesn’t mean it should get free bread. Like baby ducks. Those jackasses need to get their own damn bread. Earn it like the rest of us.

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.