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HEY, PIG.
WHY DO YOU HAVE CANS TIED TO YOUR TAIL?
THEY REPRESENT MY SINS.
FATHER MOLE HAD ME TIE THEM ON AS A WAY OF DOING PENANCE.
YOU'RE REALLY TAKING THIS FATHER MOLE THING SERIOUSLY.
YOU BET!
HE'S GREAT!
HE'S EVEN GOT YOU-KNOW-WHO DOING IT.
NOT A WORD, FATHEAD.

HELLO, FATHER MOLE... IT'S ME, RAT... I'M THINKING ABOUT JOINING THE CHURCH.
BUT LISTEN. BEFORE I DO, I NEED YOU TO SIGN THIS... IT'S A CONTRACT GUARANTEEING THAT IF I START GOING TO CHURCH, I WILL NOT GO TO THAT BIG, FIERY PLACE.
PERHAPS WE SHOULD DO THIS THROUGH OUR LAWYERS.

OKAY, TIM, SINCE IT'S YOUR FIRST DAY, LET ME JUST REMIND YOU, YOU'RE LOOKING FOR ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS... STRANGE PACKAGES, HARMFUL ITEMS, ODD CHARACTERS... THAT SORT OF THING...
I'M SUSPICIOUS ABOUT THIS ONE, SIR.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PIG?
I'VE LEFT THE CHURCH OF FATHER PIPPY AND JOINED THE CHURCH OF FATHER MOLE-IN-THE-GROUND.
WHY.?
BECAUSE FATHER MOLE LOVES EVERYONE.
BUT WHERE IS HE.?
OH. FATHER MOLE DOESN'T COME OUT OF HIS HOLE.
HA.! ANYONE CAN LOVE PEOPLE FROM A HOLE-IN-THE-GROUND.! TELL HIM TO TRY LIVING WITH THEM.!!
CRACK
HE'S NOT BIG ON SERMON-INTERRUPTERS.

Okay, guys, it turn out nuclear bomb too powerful... If we essplode zeeba house, we blow up croc house too.
So uh... whuh we do?
We need volunteer to strap bomb to back and essplode in desert far away.
Me do it! Me do it!
Me always looking for chance to geet out of office.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, RAT?
TAKING ON THE CHURCH. FATHER DIPPY'S BEEN SHAKING HIS FINGER AT ME AND I'M SHAKING IT BACK.
WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?
JUST THINK OF ME AS MARTIN LUTHER AND THIS HERE'S THE REFORMATION.
THAT MUST BE THE COUNTER-REFORMATION.

HEY THERE, RAT... I'D LIKE YOU TO MEET MY FRIEND, PIPPY THE PRAIRIE DOG PREACHER.
WHY'S HE SHAKING HIS FINGER AT ME?
BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD, BAD.
BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT FATHER PIPPY DOES. HE STANDS ON HIS PILLAR AND SHAKES HIS FINGER AT YOU.
WORSE. WORSE. WORSE. WORSE. WORSE. WORSE.
YEAH, WELL, I DON'T LIKE IT.
PLEASE DON'T SHAKE YOUR FINGER AT FATHER PIPPY.
HEATHEN, HEATHEN, HEATHEN, HEATHEN, HEATHEN.

BAD NEWS, SIR. MR. SNUFFLES AND I HAVE FOLLOWED ALL
THE NUCLEAR MISSILE INSTRUCTIONS WE CAN FIND AND CAN'T
SEEM TO DISABLE THE CROC'S NUKE.
OH MY GAD, NO! WHAT WILL I DO?
WHOA WHOA WHOA, SIR. WHILE THIS IS OBVIOUSLY A VERY
COMPLICATED AND DELICATE PROCEDURE, WE THINK WE STILL
HAVE SOME VIABLE OPTIONS.
OPTIONS? LIKE WHAT?
BANG ON IT LIKE THE DICKENS AND HOPE FOR THE BEST.
MEWWW
BAD KITTY. BAD KITTY.

Okay... Let see... 'Einstructions for detonation of nuclear bomb'... Step One: Nucluar essplosions very powerful. One muss take many steps to ensure safety from blast.

THE PEARLS' NUCLEAR MISSILE CRISIS
OKAY. IF WE'RE GONNA DISMANTLE A NUCLEAR WARHEAD, WE'RE GONNA NEED THE INSTRUCTIONS. DID YOU BRING 'EM?
Meow.
THESE ARE DIRECTIONS FOR PROGRAMMING OUR T.V. REMOTE.
Meow.
THEY ARE NOT "PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING.”

Elly Elephant was the sweetest elephant who ever lived.
Every day when she awoke, she told herself, "Today I will make someone else's life better."
So Elly Elephant gave money to friends.
I'll give you more, Howard.
She did favors for relatives.
I'll help you, mom.
Thank you, Elly.
And she helped all of her neighbors.
I'll mow your lawn.
One day Elly Elephant's house burned down. "It is okay," she said, "because I have friends and relatives and neighbors. They will help me as I have helped them."
But no one came.
So Elly Elephant gathered her few belongings and followed her friends and relatives and neighbors.
And pounced on their heads.
Pounce Pounce Pounce
Pounce Pounce
IS THIS THE CHILDREN'S BOOK CHARLIE THE TUNA IS WRITING NOW THAT YOU'VE CALLED THE NEW WINNIE THE POOH??
YEAH, IT'S LIKE WINNIE THE POOH IF HE WEIGHED MORE AND COULD KILL PEOPLE.
CHAPTER TWO... ROO IS MISSING AND KANGA IS SKINNED.

I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I REALIZE I WON'T BE APPRECIATED IN MY OWN TIME.
BUT I CARE NOT, BECAUSE I DON'T SPEAK TO YOU... I SPEAK TO THE AGES... ALL I ASK IS THAT YOU COOPERATE WITH THE BEVY OF FUTURE BIOGRAPHERS.
OH, I'LL SPEAK TO THE BIOGRAPHERS.
YOU NEVER MET ME.

THE CROCS GET THE BOMB
I'M SORRY, BUT ARE YOU GUYS REALLY BOMB DISPOSAL EXPERTS?
PLEASE. WE'RE TRAINED PROFESSIONALS... SO WHY DON'T YOU STOP OFFENDING US AND TELL US WHERE THE BOMB IS.
MAKE A NOTE OF THAT.

WHERE YOU BEEN THIS MORNING, RAT?
HELPING ZEBRA. THE CROCS GOT THE BOMB.
THE BOMB? OH, NO! IS HE GONNA DIE?
RELAX, BACON BUTT... FOR A COUPLE $'S, I HOOKED HIM UP WITH A CRACK TEAM OF BOMB DISPOSAL EXPERTS... REAL PROS... THEY SHOULD BE THERE ANY MINUTE.
HOWDY-DO.

YAAAWN...AWW...AHH, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING...
I'LL DRINK A LITTLE COFFEE...GET THE PAPER...BE NICE AND READY TO FACE THE–
PERHAPS I'LL SKIP THE PAPER.

RAT SAID YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT NUCLEAR BOMBS.
NOT ANYMORE, PIG. I DID SOME RESEARCH AND NOW REALIZE THAT SOME GROUP HAVING THE BOMB IS IRRELEVANT IF THEY DON'T HAVE A DELIVERY SYSTEM.
WHAT'S THAT MEAN?
THEY HAVE TO HAVE A WAY TO FIRE IT AT YOU... IT'S NOT LIKE THEY CAN JUST DELIVER IT TO YOUR FRONT DOOR.
Reeng doorbell.
You reeng doorbell.

DID YOU SEE THIS REPORT ON THE RUSSIANS SELLING ADVANCED WEAPONS SYSTEMS TO PRACTICALLY ANY NATION THAT WANTS THEM?
SO?
SO THEY COULD END UP IN THE WRONG HANDS.
DUDE, I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT ANY GROUP THAT WANTS A MISSILE CAN NOW JUST WALK UP TO THE RUSSKIES AND BUY ONE.
Does you take Visa?

WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Crocs do 'Shakespeares For Da Masses.' Me recite Shakespeares in oreeginal language and Bob follow wid translation for modern audience. Have leesten....
'Ahem
'Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.'
'SHUT YOU FAT MOUF!'
I THINK IT LOSES SOMETHING.
Hey... you not shutting mouf.

PIG, YOU AND I HAVE BEEN ARGUING A LOT LATELY. I THINK IT'S TIME WE TRY TO REACH A FAIR CONSENSUS.
WHAT'S A CONSENSUS ?
IT'S WHERE WE GET TOGETHER AND I STATE MY OPINION AND YOU STATE YOUR OPINION AND THEN WE AGREE TO MY OPINION.
THAT DOESN'T SEEM FAIR.
BELIEVE ME... I LISTEN CAREFULLY TO YOUR OPINION BEFORE I MOCK IT.

HEY, YOU STUPID IL' GUARD DUCK. YOU'RE LOOKIN' A LITTLE THIN.
YES. I'M ON A HUNGER STRIKE, BOB. IT'S YET ANOTHER SHOW OF MY COMMITMENT TO A PEACE-LOVING NONVIOLENT MEANS OF GETTING YOU TO KINDLY BE A BETTER NEIGHBOR.
YEAH, WELL, I WON'T BE DOING THAT, MR. GANDHI, BUT I MIGHT START EATING MY BIG, TASTY KAHUNA BURGERS RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF YOUR SAD, LITTLE DUCK FACE.
AND THEN I BLEW UP HIS HOUSE AS NON-VIOLENTLY AS POSSIBLE.

I THINK PIG'S GUARD DUCK IS GETTING A LITTLE TIRED OF PIG'S INSISTENCE ON CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE.
THEY'RE STILL TRYING TO STOP THEIR NEIGHBOR FROM PARKING IN FRONT OF THEIR HOUSE?
NO. THEY GAVE UP ON THAT. NOW, THEY JUST WANT HIM TO RE-PAINT HIS HOUSE FROM BRIGHT PURPLE TO SOMETHING MORE NEUTRAL, AND I THINK GUARD DUCK FINDS IT HUMILIATING.
WHY IS IT HUMILIATING?
ALL WE ARE SAAAYING IS GIVE BEIGE A CHAAANCE...

PIG'S GUARD DUCK HAS BEEN PRACTICING CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE TO TRY AND STOP OUR NEIGHBOR BOB FROM ALWAYS PARKING IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE.
CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE? WHAT KIND OF CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE?
HE BLOCKS NEIGHBOR BOB'S DRIVEWAY BY LYING DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF IT.
AND HOW'S IT GOING?
THAT'S THE THIRD TIME HE'S BACKED OVER ME, SIR.
PATIENCE, LI'L BUDDY.

HEY, RAT, CHECK THIS OUT. IT'S A BOOK ON SOMETHING CALLED "CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE". IT'S ALL ABOUT HOW YOU CAN GET YOUR WAY USING PEACEFUL, NON-VIOLENT MEANS.
WHY YOU READING THAT?
SO I CAN TEACH IT TO OTHERS. I'M GONNA TRY TO SUMMARIZE THE TACTICS IN A ONE-PAGE MEMO.
AND GIVE IT TO WHO?
AND IF YOU WON'T STOP PARKING IN FRONT OF OUR HOUSE, I WILL SIT ON YOUR LAWN AND SING KUMBAYA.

EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT I'VE BEEN THINKING, AND I'VE CONCLUDED WE'D BE BETTER OFF LIVING SOMEWHERE WHERE WE DON'T HAVE NEIGHBORS ALL AROUND US.
YEAH, YOU MEAN MOVE OUT TO THE COUNTRY WHERE WE CAN GET SOME LAND?
I MEAN TEAR DOWN OUR NEIGHBORS' HOMES.
YOU AND I ARE RARELY ON THE SAME PAGE, ARE WE, SIR?

Danny Donkey was angry at the comics page.
So Danny Donkey went looking for some of the veteran cartoonists. He found them out on the golf course.
Be relevant to my life, he pleaded with them.
What's wrong with them?
LOTS of people like golf.
Golf!
I just thought golf might keep me from making more gags.
No, no, no.
You don't understand.
NO MORE GAGS.
AND WITH THAT, DANNY DONKEY fell to his knees, and the veteran cartoonists hit him with their golf clubs.
WAH! BAM!
GACK!
SLAM!
OKAY, THEN.
MORE GAGS FROM 1952.
HUH?
WHEN THE MUSIC DIED.
The Walkman.
Surfin!
Nixon.
Hoola hoops!
Golf!
"IS THIS AN UPLIFTING TALE OF THE AMERICAN COMICS PAGE?"
DANNY DIES AND DOESN'T HAVE TO READ 'EM ANYMORE.
HA HA
YAHAHA
YOU'LL HAVE TO GO TO THE GOLF GAGS.