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Funny Times June 2016 Issue

June 2016 Issue Cover
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Cartoons About …
Father’s Day . The Outdoors . Animals .
Modern Life . Modern Medicine . and more!

Buy This Issue!

Cartoons by: Isabella Bannerman, Bizarro, Harry Bliss, Ruben Bolling, Matt Bors, Martin Bucella, Jon Carter, Jack Compère, Dave Coverly, J.C. Duffy, Tim Eagan, Bob Eckstein, Benita Epstein, Jeff Hobbs, David Horsey, Ham Khan, Keith Knight, Mary Lawton, Carol Lay, Scott Masear, Brian McFadden, Chris Monroe, P.S. Mueller, Drew Panckeri, Rina Piccolo, K.A. Polzin, Hilary Price, Leigh Rubin, Andy Singer, Jen Sorensen, Ward Sutton, Tom Toles, Tom Toro, Tom Tomorrow, Dan Wasserman, Shannon Wheeler, Matt Wuerker, Zippy, Adam Zyglis … and lots more!

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Book Retorts

Book Retorts by Eric Per1in

Cartoon of the Week for August 26, 2009

Funny kids parents children  cartoon, August 26, 2009


Cartoon of the Week for July 22, 2009

Funny kids parent child  cartoon, July 22, 2009


Kite String Theory

By Ray Lesser

Kite string theory ties everything that’s wrong with the world into one neat, impossible-to-open package. Continue reading

Cartoon of the Week for November 19, 2008

Funny computer mueller kids  cartoon, November 19, 2008


Is Dad In Danger Of Losing His Job?

By Ray Lesser

My children treat me as though I’m part of their personal staff. And they don’t think I’m doing a particularly good job.

My daughter wants me to be her secretary, and screen her phone calls. “If it’s Kevin, tell him I already left. If it’s Janet tell her I’ll be over in a half-hour.”

“What if it’s just someone who wants to talk to you?” I ask.

“Well then, obviously, tell them to call my cell phone!”

My 10-year-old son wants me to wash his laundry, and then fold it and put it away in his drawers. “And I need new socks. Buy me some more when you go to the store.”

“I don’t really know what kind you want.”

“Get me the ones that go up to the ankles, not high up on the calf, or low down at the heel. And make sure they have red stripes.”

“Maybe you’d like to come with me and pick them out yourself?”

“Don’t be silly, Dad, I’ve got to go to camp all day, and then I have a game tonight. That reminds me, I think it’s your turn to bring treats for the whole team. And please don’t get those crummy potato chips like last time. Everybody hated that. Get popsicles or ice-cream bars.”

“Those things melt, unless you bring them right at the end of the game,” I say.

“None of the other parents seem to have any problem doing that. Why can’t you?”

Meanwhile, my older son is looking for an apartment with his buddies at college. He keeps faxing me application forms to fill out. “Why do you keep sending these to me?” I ask him.

“The landlord wants the person who’s financially responsible to fill them out. And make sure you sign this one. You forgot to sign the last one, and the landlord rented it to someone else who had all their paperwork filled out correctly.”

“Ari, this is the tenth of these applications you’ve had me fill out this week. How many apartments are you renting?”

“Dad, you don’t seem to realize how tight the rental market is in this town. I need you to fill this out and fax it back right away, or we won’t have a chance to rent this apartment, either. Oh, and by the way, you said you were going to rip me a copy of that Miles Davis CD. Have you sent it yet?”

When I became a parent, I realized it was going to be a lot of hard work. But I had the na

Cartoon of the Week for September 14, 2005

Funny mother sorensen Jean  cartoon, September 14, 2005


The Parent Gene

By Ray Lesser

Somehow or other I inherited the parent gene. I’m not sure exactly where it came from, but I know it was there lurking in my DNA, ready to be activated as soon as I had a kid to yell at.

The parent gene insures the survival, and eventual improvement of the species. When you see your kid is tottering on the edge of a precipice, you are always on the alert to grab him and pull him back; whether the precipice is the edge of the Grand Canyon or the edge of the coffee table, where he’s about to knock over Daddy’s beer.

When I was young and my father was in full-parent mode, ranting at me because of some minor rules infraction like forgetting to turn out a light, or wipe the mud off my shoes, I vowed I would never act like him if I had children. But after following muddy footprints from vacant room to vacant room while turning off switches (the current record is 28 unused lights/stereos/TVs/ computers in one sweep), my perspective has changed. “I’m not going to tell you again! If you don’t start turning off your lights when you’re not in your room, I’m going to take away your lightbulbs!”

It’s scary to say things like this, because there’s a whole section of my brain that knows these arguments and rants by heart. My dad is suddenly reincarnated and yelling out of my mouth, and I find myself agreeing with everything he says. “I don’t care who started it, keep it up and I’ll finish you both!” Dad yells. “What are you, an ape? What do you think this place is, a zoo?” “Quit bellyaching! Life is not a fairytale where you live happily ever after. Life is full of hardship, and trouble, and suffering, until you turn 65 and your children finally leave home.”

Being a father is an impossible task, which you only begin to understand when you become one. I realize I sometimes send my kids mixed signals, but that’s OK because my primary job is to stay on their case, no matter what they’re doing, or not doing. So if they’re vegging out in front of the TV, of course I’m going to say, “Turn that off and finish your homework.” Then later, when they’re up late writing a term paper on how to save the world from global warming, I have to say, “You’ll never be successful in life if you don’t get enough rest. Turn off the computer and go to bed now.”

Another primary parenting function is to help my spouse survive. She is my rock, my inspiration, and the only one who knows how to get Ravi to take a bath. I’ve therefore worked out three basic rules for the children on how they should treat their mother:

1. Leave her alone, she’s trying to do something important, like make me dinner.

2. Leave her alone, she’s not in a good mood.

3. Leave her alone, she’s in a good mood and I want her to stay that way.

The most surprising thing about becoming a father is discovering how much of your time it takes. When I was younger, I thought being a father was more or less a biological circumstance, and men could take kids or leave them, depending on how rude or inconvenient they became. But now my whole day revolves around my children. Partly this is because, no matter what I’m doing, they feel free to interrupt with important questions that only I can answer like, “Why do dogs pee on fire hydrants?” “Can I invite a friend over?” “Can we get a dog?” “Where does electricity come from?” “My feet hurt, when are you going to take me to buy new shoes?” “Dad, do you know what happens when you pour gasoline mixed with turpentine into the lawnmower? Come out to the garage and I’ll show you!” “You promised we’d go see Scooby Doo, and this is the last week it’s playing!” “Why did Grandma and Grandpa decide to have you?”

I’m not sure what Mom’s reasons were, but she always says that Dad wanted to have another kid so that he’d have someone to go bowling with. After 17 years of parenting I’m beginning to realize that this is as good a reason as any for procreating. Having a kid means you get to play ball, ride bikes, go to the playground, build forts, eat cake and ice cream, make fart noises, watch cartoons, blow bubbles, tell silly jokes, and always have somebody to share it all with. I loved being a kid the first time around, and my second, third and fourth childhood have only gotten better. The world is as goofy and fun as it ever was, but now my favorite playmates sleep over every night, plus I’ve got my own credit card.

“Who wants to go with me to the toy store?”