Is it just me or does that tinny sound of music and/or dialogue emanating from a cell phone user looking at Instagram (or Insta, if you're young and hip) drive you up the wall? It is like the proverbial sound of chalk screeching on a blackboard to yours truly. Usually we change names in this strip to protect the innocent. In this one we changed sexes. Hint: I am not the one listening to Instagram in the car, at home, etc., but a certain person of female persuasion who lives with me may, perhaps, be guilty. At least sometimes. The thing is, I’m not on the phone very much. Perhaps it’s because very few people ever pick up the phone to call me. But that’s for another blog. This is about cell phones in general and Insta in particular. People love to complain about them but are still accessing them 24/7. For instance, John, who came up with the piano-playing pig, knows enough about Instagram to make me suspect he’s a big user, if not, gasp, a person who posts. Although I did meet his old dog Carlos who definitely did not know how to play the piano, or a violin for that matter.

Now in all fairness I have to admit to this related incident: My wife and I went to a comedy show with some friends featuring Brett Goldstein. Who’s that you ask? He was Roy '“Fucking” Kent in the Ted Lasso series. A gruff guy who peppered the f-word into nearly every sentence, even when talking to a child. Child: “Can I have a cookie?” Roy: “Get it your fucking self.” I made that one up, but it’s pretty close to what he’d say. Anyway we’re at the comedy show in a crowded theater and every time there’s a little bit of quiet, I hear these people chatting. I looked behind me and in front of me thinking, who the hell is that? When, after at least a half-hour, I realized the talking was coming from my pocket. Yes that’s right, I had been listening to a podcast in the car on the way tho the show and it was still playing as I sat in the audience. This meant I had to remove the phone from my pocket in order to silence it. But in so removing said phone, I revealed who the asshole was who wouldn't stop talking during the performance. Heads turned and shot me evil glances as I sheepishly held me hand up to say, “sorry, won’t happen again, mumble, mumble, mumble.” Anyway, as Roy Kent might put it, the rest of the show was pretty fucking unbelievable.

And onto to the holidays. Most of us have experienced them as children, as parents and even as grandparents. And we get it, kids want the latest thing. In the past there have been pet rocks, chia pets, Chatty Cathy (pull the string and she says, “I love you,)” Beanie Babies, My Little Ponies, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and also on. (I purposely left out Barbie because, let’s face it, she’s gotten enough coverage this year). So John and I went back and forth, making up some ridiculous ideas for toys. A Vladimir Putin bobblehead, a dog that actually poops and then John just threw out from nowhere, “How about Bronto the Barfing Dinosaur with 8 assorted vomit packs?” I couldn’t stop laughing and that was our comic. What more did you need? What more can I say?

Happy Holidays and we will see you next week with two new holiday-themed goodies. Until then, stay well and don’t go to the toy store looking for Bronto the Barfing Dinosaur with 8 assorted packs. They’ve been sold out, like, forever.

Andy and John