Pearls Before Swine | Search

WOO HOO!
WHAT?
WOO HOO!
I JUST SCOURED THE 'GUINNESS BOOK OF WORLD RECORDS' AND NOTICED THERE IS NO RECORD HOLDER IN THE CATEGORY OF 'MOST CONSECUTIVE TIMES SLAPPING YOUR ROTUND FRIEND IN THE FACE'!
I'M HAVING SECOND THOUGHTS.

HAVE YOU SEEN YOUR FATHER?
HE'S OUTSIDE. I HAVE TO DO A PROJECT FOR BIOLOGY WHERE I FIND AND CATALOG TWENTY DIFFERENT BIRDS. DAD'S BIRDWATCHING FOR ME.
JUNIOR! JUNIOR! Me find one!
TERRIFIC, DAD! DESCRIBE ITS PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS AND I’LL TRY TO FIND IT IN THE BIRD GUIDE.
Uhh. Two wings. Lotta feathers.
YOU NEED TO BE A LITTLE MORE SPECIFIC, DAD.
Oh, yeah. It have head.

WHOA. LOOK AT THAT CUTE CHICK.
YOU KNOW, PIG, THAT'S A REALLY SEXIST TERM... I KNOW RAT USES IT, BUT IT DOESN'T MEAN YOU HAVE TO.
WHAT SHOULD I SAY ?
I DON'T KNOW... IF YOU REALLY FEEL COMPELLED TO COMMENT, JUST SAY, 'THAT WOMAN'S VERY ATTRACTIVE.'
THAT WOMAN'S VERY ATTRACTIVE.
NEVER MIND.

SE SHTINKY! THIS SHLMUZEL SHMEGGEG NEEDS TO FILL MY SHLISEL!
CAN YOU PLEASE COOL IT WITH THE YIDDISH, RAT?
WHAT'S IT TO YOU, SHALTEN SHAMMES?
BECAUSE ALL YOU'RE USING IT FOR IS SPREADING INSULTS! DO WE REALLY NEED YOU TEACHING OUR ENTIRE NEIGHBORHOOD A WHOLE NEW LEXICON OF RUDENESS?
OY VEY, YOU SHLUB. AND WHO EXACTLY AM I GONNA INFLUENCE?
HULLOOOO SHIKSA STRUDEL.

OY VEY! SORRY TO KVETCH BUT THIS MESHUGANAH’S CHUTZPAH HAS ME PRETTY FARKLEMPT.
WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING YIDDISH, RAT?
BECAUSE IT’S THE LANGUAGE FOR RIPPING ON THE IDIOTS OF THE WORLD.
YEAH, WELL, I DON’T THINK I’D EVER LEARN A LANGUAGE JUST SO I COULD RIP ON PEOPLE.
TOUGH TALK FOR A SHABBES KLOPPER SCHMENDRICK NUDNIK.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RAT?
STUDYING YIDDISH...I HAVE DETERMINED IT IS BY FAR THE BEST LANGUAGE IN THE WORLD FOR HURLING INSULTS.
DO YOU REALLY THINK IT'S A GOOD IDEA TO LEARN A LANGUAGE JUST SO YOU CAN HURL INSULTS?
PLEASE STOP BEING SUCH A SHMULKY SHLUMPERDIK.

"Rejoice," he said, raising his arms in celebration, "for the goal of childhood sport is not victory, but rather, the inculcation of values such as teamwork, fair play and the struggle to do one's best."
"I will go to a children's soccer game," said Bob. "Childhood sports make people happy."
Angry Bob was at a soccer game. He stood on the sidelines. He stood with the parents of a team called "The Strikers."
The Strikers were losing. The parents were angry. They yelled. One swore.
Angry Bob stood in a booth and typed.
A Gatorade bottle struck him in the head.
Falling, Bob saw a horde of angry soccer moms descend upon his fragile bean.
"You Strikers," he said with his last breath, "are aptly named."
HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A LOSING SOCCER MOM.

IF EVERY LIFE IS SACRED, WHY DO WE KILL EACH OTHER IN WARS?
BECAUSE SOME LIFE IS SACREDER THAN OTHERS.
WHO'S LIFE IS SACREDER?
PEOPLE WHO AGREE WITH YOU.
I DON'T GET IT.
I SUGGEST YOU AGREE.
OKAY DOKE.

HEY, GOAT, HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A SUPER STRONG GUY NAMED SAMSON WHOSE STRENGTH WAS ALL IN HIS HAIR?
YEAH... HIS WIFE DELILAH CUT IT AND HE LOST ALL HIS POWER. WHY?
NO REASON.
MULLETS DO NOT GIVE SUPERPOWERS.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RAT?
I'M AN ENFORCER. I GOT THE IDEA FROM HOCKEY. THE ENFORCER IS THE GUY WHOSE JOB IT IS TO PICK FIGHTS WITH THE OTHER TEAM.
WE'RE A COMIC STRIP, RAT. WE'RE NOT A HOCKEY TEAM. AND I HARDLY THINK A COMIC STRIP HAS A NEED FOR AN ENFORCER.
EXCUSE ME, BUT WOULD YOU MIND PASSING THE SALT?
YEAH, OVALHEAD, I THINK I DO.
CHECK, PLEASE.

WHAT ARE YOU WATCHING, RAT?
HOCKEY.
I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKED HOCKEY.
I LOVE HOCKEY... EXCEPT FOR THESE BORING LITTLE INTERLUDES WHERE THEY SKATE AROUND TRYING TO HIT THAT BLACK THING.
THE PUCK.
FIGHT, YOU TIME-WASTING FIGURE SKATERS!!!

WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, DAD?
Me turn forty. Me spose keel billion zeebas by now. Me waste whole life.
DAD, YOU HAVEN'T WASTED EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR LIFE JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T CAUGHT ALL THE ZEBRAS YOU THOUGHT YOU'D CATCH. I CAN THINK OF A MILLION OF THOSE MOMENTS YOU DIDN'T WASTE.
Oh yeah? Like wheech ones?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO-
AAARRRY
Me can't hear you
Me can't hear you
Me can't hear you
NOT HEARING YOUR NAME SUNG DOESN'T MEAN YOU DON'T AGE A YEAR, DAD.
Twenty-sixx AGAIN.. WOOHOO!

HEY, MOM… WHERE'S DAD?
HE'S HIDING. HE DOES IT EVERY YEAR ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
WHAT FOR?
BECAUSE HE BELIEVES IF YOU CAN SUCCESSFULLY HIDE FROM YOUR BIRTHDAY CAKE, YOU DON'T TURN A YEAR OLDER.
DOES HE SUCCEED?
YEAH. SOME YEARS I DON'T FEEL LIKE LOOKING FOR HIM, SO I GIVE UP.
SO HOW OLD IS HE?
FORTY. BUT IN HIS HEAD, HE'S TWENTY-SEVEN.
Twenty-se…ex.
GYAH!

DUDE, WHAT'S THAT SMELL?
OH, IT'S PROBABLY ME. THERE'S A DROUGHT, SO I'VE STOPPED SHOWERING.
SO WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO - JUST GO AROUND SMELLING AWFUL?
OH, NO, NO. SILLY. EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES, I RUB 'SPEED STICK' ALL OVER MY FACE.
DUDE.
MMMMMMMM FEELS GOOOOOD

Dear Pigita,
I have problems.
I have insecurities.
Please date me anyways.
YOU DUMB PIG... GIRLS ARE ATTRACTED TO CONFIDENCE.
I THOUGHT THAT WAS BAD... I THOUGHT THAT MEANT YOU HAD A BIG HEAD.
THAT'S ARROGANCE... CONFIDENCE IS SOMETHING LESS. SHOW HER YOU HAVE IT.
I have a medium-sized head.

HIYA, RAT, WHAT'S GOING ON?
I THOUGHT I'D DO SOMETHING FUN, SO I DROVE TO THE PET STORE AND BOUGHT US A PARROT, BUT ON THE WAY BACK, I GOT CAUGHT IN A THREE-HOUR TRAFFIC JAM.
@%&#
*#@%
*%#@
*@#%&%#*#
WE MAY HAVE TO DEPROGRAM HIM.

THIS SURE IS A TERRIFIC HISTORY BOOK... IT'S CALLED "THE GREAT INFLUENZA" BY JOHN BARRY.
OH, BOY... DOES IT MENTION MY GRANDMA?
DID SHE DIE?
NO. BUT SHE HAD A GREAT INFLUENZA ON MY LIFE.
IT WAS A PLAGUE, PIG.
PLEASE DON'T INSULT MY GRANDMA.

HOW DOES YOUR HEART KNOW TO KEEP BEATING WHEN YOU'RE ASLEEP?
YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS HANDLES IT, UNLESS YOUR CONSCIOUS MIND STARTS TO FOCUS IN ON IT. THEN YOU CREATE UTTER BRAIN CHAOS. SO IT'S BETTER NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT.

WHY DO YOU TELL HIM STUFF LIKE THAT?
BECAUSE IT'S FUN AND BESIDES, EVEN A MORON LIKE PIG KNOWS WHEN HE'S BEING MESSED WITH.

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THESE PRISONERS WHO BUSTED OUT OF FEDERAL PRISON? I GUESS ONE OF THEM IS STILL ON THE LAM.
WOW. THAT'S HARD TO PICTURE.
WHAT'S HARD TO PICTURE?
MOVE, YOU GRAZING, MOVE.

Dear my girlfriend Pigita…
You complete me. Please don’t ever break my heart. You are the wind beneath my wings.
Dude, if you really want to touch her, emphasize some of the words… Just write ‘em bigger or something. Makes her think you really, really mean it.
Which ones?
I don’t know…just pick a word in a sentence or something.
Dear my girlfriend Pigita…
YOu complete me. Please don’t ever BREAK my heart. You are the WIND beneath my wings.

I'VE DECIDED TO
START SAYING
SORRY FOR ALL
THE WRONGS I'VE
COMMITTED AGAINST
OTHERS.
BECAUSE
YOU'VE
REALIZED
ALL THE PAIN
YOU'VE
CAUSED?
BECAUSE I'VE REALIZED
SORRY IS JUST A WORD
AND YOU CAN SAY IT
WITHOUT MEANING IT.
THAT'S
NOT
NICE.
SORRY.

Dearest Pig, these are dark days.
Days filled with empty bottles and empty hearts and an abundance of unwanted clarity.
For I now see that to love is to leap an unleapable gorge and hope that a rope will be thrown from the other side.
When it works, it’s a spectacular feat of daring. And when it doesn’t, it’s kersplat.
Kersplat.

Dearest Pig,
I sit alone in a clean, well-lighted cafe. It is closing time. And I am drinking brandy through tears.
Maura has left me.
She told me this afternoon. In this cafe. And it was not for a guy. It was for a job. A spokesperson job for a corporation whose name I will not soon forget.
AFLAC!

WHAT'S THE MATTER TODAY, MAURA? YOU'RE NOT INVADING SIAM WITH YOUR USUAL FLAIR.
QUACK
"WE HAVE TO TALK"? "WE HAVE TO TALK"? YOU JUST SAID, "WE HAVE TO TALK"...
QUACK
NO, THEY'RE NOT JUST WORDS... THEY'RE BIG WORDS... HUGE WORDS... BIG, HUGE WORDS THAT HAUL DOOM!
WHY, THEY'RE THE FOUR WORDSMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE!!
YOU WERE SAYING...?