B.ulging F.reakish F.rankenstein!

Lots of disconnected thoughts today, so each one gets its own short paragraph.
Any more appearances like the above and I swear I’m renaming him “Elmer the Slack-Jawed Mullet Yokel.”
Where is Panel 1 taking place? An enormous tepee?
Mysterious object alert: Yokel lunchbox? Illegal Immigrant tracking robot? Futuristic napkin holder? Stolen cash register?
If that is indeed Lisa Wyche…she wins for “Most Improved-Looking Character in the Whigham Era.”
o-4 for Brendan-Oyl? Start the suicide watch. Apparently even the happy kitty shirt can’t cheer her up.
Holy rippling Gil muscles, Batman! Looks like someone misses drawing superheroes. Are we going to have to start drug testing in this comic?
What’s your point Gil? That only American citizens can play baseball? C’mon, man. Even Marty Moon realizes it’s no longer 1953.
I hope Kaz isn’t jealous of Gil cheating on him with a new running partner.
Mimi wins for the most awkwardly phrased expositional phrase of the week. Why would she drop the “B.F.F.” acronym* to her old fart husband?
Looking at the quaint yet insane scenery, maybe it is 1953. Or the apocalypse.
*For those not in the know, B.F.F.=”Bulemic French Fry”, which is what all the kids are calling each other these days. What’s with these kids today?
















