You are the men and women we, the comedic community, need, but do not deserve. Thank you for your endless charitable work and for helping us overcome poverty, depression, and thirst by covering our five dollar IPAs after our performances. With Mother Teresa’s patience, you endure awful open mics in rundown hellholes, where you have forced applause for a terrible sock puppet act, an annoying whiny guitar comic, and your slightly below average significant other’s pun about “holy socks.”

Remember that time when I drew a comic about teeth and talked about how uncomfortable it made me? Well, apparently the discomfort wasn’t enough to dissuade me from drawing a second comic about teeth.

It’s come to my attention that today marks the 27th birthday of the US release of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Man, time flies like a 300-frames-per-second arrow through an autumnal forest, huh? One of my fondest childhood memories is of sitting in the movie theater with my neighbor and her mom while those Bayeux Tapestry opening credits unfurled to Michael Kamen’s blood-stirring score. And unlike so many 90’s kids who have since broken their allegiance to RH:POT, I remain a devout fan. (Fun fact: I won the role of Maid Marian in my South Carolina middle school production of Robin Hood because the maid I was understudying for had to back out. Kismet, Kevin, kismet.)

Here we have a tender moment between friends. So precious.

My goat fell into a well. Me and my dad built this stone wall around the opening a couple years ago, and we check it all the time. I noticed my goat was missing when I went out to the stable to milk it. First I thought maybe Eliphaz was out riding it, but then Eliphaz came over my house to play baserock, and I asked him if he’d put the goat back in the stable, and he’s like, “What goat?” and I’m like my goat, and he’s like, “I didn’t take your goat,” and I’m like, “Well where is he, then?” and he’s like, “I don’t know.” We wandered around looking for my goat, but we couldn’t find him.