I hear Big Tex is circlin’ them yaller wagons a his’ns. The Testosterone Apatches mus’ be on the warpath.
Category: Cheap gags
Friday funnies redux
More Dark Ages cartoonery: This time you can blame Khal Spencer, who in comments recalled a VeloNews ‘toon I drew back in 2000, which seems like an awfully long time ago, in part because it was. And yet it seems so … timely, for some strange reason.
This may have been the introduction of a nameless recurring character, a reptilian dope fiend who, like the Fat Guy, grew progressively uglier as the years dragged on. Though the Fat Guy, of course, has yet to test positive for anything stronger than gravy.
Ka-Pau!
Poor Fränk Schleck. I can’t find it in my heart to judge him if he resorted to a diuretic. Think how he must’ve felt all these years, lugging around that hideously unattractive water weight.
Lance Armstrong still in the hot seat
After timing Jeff Novitsky with both a sundial and a moondial he was declared a DNF in the Dave Clark Five Memorial Individual Time Trial. Only one competitor remains on course.
Smackdown
In which one of the Tiny Hat Size folks gets his comeuppance. Pow! Zoom! To the moon! If only we could do likewise to all such*, what a wonderful world it would be.
* And no, I’m not talking about beating the Little Friskies out of itty-bitty kitties. You know who I’m talking about. The dildos who dangle tea bags from their itty-bitty Revolutionary War hats. Thanks to Ornery Bastard for unearthing the feline fisticuffs.
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