Oh Phil, you dear sweet moronic fucking idiot, you.

What did you honestly expect when you laced Marm's food with salvia and Visine? As you can see, one has already taken effect. The other should start to work in about 10 minutes.

Sleep tight, Phil, Sleep tight.

Idiot.

Easy there, Smilin' Joe.

What Phil means is that, any second now, you could find yourself with a faceload of Marm-alade. Phil knows this, he's been there. Dottie knows this too. Oh yes.

Well, lookie at YOU, Mister Testicles-the-size-of-Jupiter.

Sure, deride Marm for being cautious around what appears to be a Black Widow the size of a goddamned hubcap walking down the street in broad fucking daylight. Black Widows are nocturnal, so this one clearly has rabies or something. Marm knows that, and he's saving your bony white ass from this thing. Why? Who knows.

So how 'bout you open a nice cold can of Shut The Hell Up when you get home and are done scraping the poo from your drawers there, He-Man?

One more FC - only this time it's a game!

Okay, boys and girls, see if you can spot these hidden objects: 

Box of Lettuce

Broken Segway

Cocaine Scale

Jar of Grandpa

Soap Bubbles

Buddha Salt Shaker

Best of Bread LP

Drildo

Tiny Tim's Ukulele

Young Republican

Good Luck!

Nice diversion attempt there, Dottie.

That's right. Say it nice and loud to cover up for the fact that ol' Marm just wants to try it missionary for a change. 

Now go pretend to be giving him a bath in the locked bathroom, you sick bitch.

Fight for your right to have Fight or Flight

"The bakery". Is that what they're calling the euthanasia chamber these days, Phil? The bakery? I kinda like that really. Has a nostalgic Buchenwald-like ring to it. 

No wonder it flew by, Phil. It's called the survival instinct. One look at Marm's face and you can easily see the relief knowing that he once again managed to outrun death. That, and I'm sure he could smell the pheromones from Dottie, who has assumed the Anal Penetration position in anticipation of this return. 

This one just begs to be done. Excuse the change.

Today's Marm was just too damned idiotic anyway, so we're gonna do a lttle FC action today, yo?

 

Dolly seems truly concerned about the sale price of the lamp rather than what's really going on - Bil realizes that the lamps are not the reason for the purchase of said "pole lamp". Bil, being the concerned neighbor that he is, is going to offer to help the young lady "install the pole". Oh yeah. 

For safety reasons, of course.

Phil, you ignorant fuckhead.

For one, Marm knew that you had attempted to schedule another euthanasia appointment for him and is simply trying yet again to delay his forced demise.

The other thing is, what the McFuck did you expect when you bought the damned thing? Idiot.

Oh, don't pretend you don't know, Dottie.

You know damn well that when you bend over like that, Marm thinks it's for "special time". He grabbed the broomstick in reaction to that one time you brought in a "friend". 

Deja Vu? Recycling? A brilliantly hilarious idea that's finally made it to print?

All of the above? I swear to God that Brad's done this one before. Maybe Paul did this without either consulting Brad or by, say, looking at old ones to see if it has been done. Wait, maybe they did this one in Dennis The Menace or perhaps Family Circus. I dunno. 

All I know is that I like the use of the flat-screen TV. It shows us that Brad is still "hip" and "relevant" even if his cartoon is "insipid". 

Piece it together, Columbo.

And once you've put together the circumstantial evidence, please realise that the ball had no other choice but to be drawn in to the gravitational field created by your fat ass. I'm amazed the tennis ball is still intact. 

Day #468 and still no sign of my testicles.

Must stay strong and vigilent ... well, as much as possible. What without happy globes and e'ythang.

These stupid kids have no idea. I should bite their balls off and see how they like it. 

Does he usually get his shots in the eyeballs?

'Cause he's actually in the right position for a shot in the ass. As are you, Dottie. As are you. 

Buy a new car. Go ahead. You want to. You need to. You're not sure why though.

Something in this one speaks to you. You can feel it, can't you? Fatass can feel it. Even Marm can feel it. It's the economy, and only you can heal it. 

Go buy a car. Now. Or a really big dog will try to charm you. And then hump your leg. 

Religious derision knows no bounds.

Seems that Fatass and Wife have emperically decided that their narrow-minded Midwest Baptist ham-and-corn-eating swine lifestyles should pour onto Marm's dreams like artery-clogging gravy over a perfectly healthy egg. 

Fuck them, Marm. Fuck them right in their tight yet pasty and flabby asses. 

Live your own dream. Make that carpet fly. 

Just don't pee on it.

If anyone's actually even reading this ...

please, please, please tell me what to make of this. No really, I need input here. 

Maybe I should just give this all up and talk about the kids I don't have. 

Wait - there's an idea. 

A few more beers and I think I may be on to something. 

I don't think I can do this anymore. Seriously.

It's becoming physically painful to have to read this shit every day. 

Okay, your turn.

Seriously. I can't come up with anything right now so please, be my guest. Write a caption, synopsis, ctritique, what have you ... for today's Marmaduke. The winner (out of all 1 of you) will receive something or other. Thanks!

Rhymes with "Borny Hastard"

Alas, poor idealistic Dottie. It's slowly dawning on her that Marm is a playa, yo, and likes to get his freak on with all the ladies. After all, Marm is a guy. 

When done driving, place in back pocket.

When you drive a Ford Ka, everything's bigger than your car. Hell, Heathcliff's bigger than your car. Shoulda ponied up for the Hyundai Elantra there, Diamond Jim.

Express Yourself!

Good ol' Janus, I mean Phil. So nice to Marm when in the public eye. Also, it's nice of Phil to let that little yapper dog rub its anal glands at the same spot ol' Marm did, ensuring the spread of intestinal parasites. Go Phil!

I'm sorry, what?

Has Brad Anderson never heard the term "daydreaming"? 

This is another example of one part of his brain drawing a picture and then daring the other part to come up with a caption and, as is often the case, failing miserably. 

This is also another example of me completely failing to say something clever about this insipid cartoon. 

The Tau of Independence

Freedom. Self-control. Self-awareness and the awareness of one's destiny. These are the things that define sentient life and tease us with haunting questions of the very nature of being. 

At this moment, Marm is thinking one of two things: 

"Do we, holding that the gods exist, deceive ourselves with unsubstantial dreams and lies, while random careless chance and change alone control the world?"

Or, 

"I'm totally gonna pee on Phil's tires."