As predicted in Time...Fortune...Life...Luce.

Backward ran sentences until reeled the mind.

With apologies to Wolcott Gibbs.

In theory there is a remedy.

Sorry, I mean, in Siri.

But you would fit right in in Barthelona.
Or change to Fortran, Basic, Cobol or Pascal.

Angry birds.

You don't want to make them angry. Trust me, you wouldn't like them angry.

They always outlive their owners. And can answer for them.
(Cleanup in panel two! Misplaced apostrophe in panel two!)

Nitty Gritty Dirt Band covers the Lovin' Spoonful.

Or possibly The Chordettes. Or Sandy Duncan and Paul Sand.

On the other hand, it might just be Neil Gaiman.

According to a Reliable Source (well, it was posted on Facebook, so it must be true), Jerry Sandusky was the original punchline for this strip.

Futbol.

Not since the last World Cup.

That's accounts for plate tectonics.

Where the Sun don't shine.

Oh, that's easy. Home-schooled Republicans.

Next, the moon landing hoax.

It's ultrasound day.

Judging by the dilated pupils, that cute little bunny appears to be on some kind of illegal drug, or is a test animal for mascara.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

Grace under pressure.

Dean Martin could have made falling off a Segway cool.

Cool and class are coterminous.

Charity begins.

Lucretia is piling up karma points by feeding the poor.

Charity begins at the curb.

Effing unspeakable.

Unutterably indescribable.

Undefined variable. Error #38.

I once shot an elephant in my pajamas.

We don't get many kangaroos in here.
At $10 a beer, it's no wonder.

The professor looks vaguely familiar.
Kangaroo walks into a bar and asks for a beer. Bartender says, "Wallaby a marsupial's uncle."

Plop, plop, fizz, fizz.

I always thought that Speedy invented it.

After a falling-out with his brother Bromo.

All's quill that ends quill.

No need to get all prickly about it.

Is that a barbed reply?

Knock, knock.

Iran over a porcupine who?

Ayatollah so.

Moschitta mouth.

Didn't you used to spiel for Fed Ex?

When you absolutely, positively have to satisfy the FDA.

Playing Footsie.

Because skirts were so long, that a foot fetish was all that was possible.

Don't even ask why shoes are called pumps.

Glaring error.

They can, but how much do you want to pay?

I shutter to think of the cost.
Think of the cost of adding venetian blinds to your phone.
And the strangulation risk!

AKA Harpo.

People also like Adolphe Marx.

And Adolph's Meat Tenderizer is great.
And it worked for Coors and Busch, as we noted yesterday.
Now, Heinrich is another thing altogether.

Busch league.

Dabney's conscience has been amBusched.

It a-Piels to his bitters angel.

Hopalong.

The alternative is to dig up William Boyd, who would work just as cheap.

Bad puns make good advertising.

Magic rabbit.

He can turn an ordinary man into a greedy sellout.

Or, if you prefer, one of the 99 percent into one of the one percenters.
Imagine what could be done with a water-skiing squirrel.

Recalculating.

You haven't lived until you have followed a GPS up a dead end street.

You meet the nicest people that way.

Idjit.

It's a Manichaean world out there. Be careful.

Kilroy was here.

He got up on both sides of the bed this morning.

Perpetual Motionist.

That would violate the Second Law of Thermodynamics: The world is going to Hell in a handbarrow.

Drying out only increases entropy.

Going all KJV on him.

Smite thee, smite thee, Abel Baker Charlie.

Can''t we all just get along?

Victoria's secret.

If that were true, then you would think that brassieres would always have unfastened from the front.

Just ask Prince Albert.

O' so rh positive.

They are assembled by Rhesus monkeys.

That also explains the term "vampire appliance."

Holey cheese, Batman.

That explanation has some holes in it.

I always thought that it was from the cow worms.

Outside Quebec, anyway.

Now that's just plain mean.

True, but mean.

On his uppers.

Obviously, we can say "Shift-2" for @.

And many swear words, too.

Just hope that they never find a new use for #, or we will not be able to "pound." Isn't that right, hashtag?

Mr. Worthing, I presume.

Was he found in a handbag in the left luggage room?

The importance of being Ernest.

Oscar Wilde to James Whistler: I wish I had said that, Jamey.
James Whistler to Oscar Wilde: You will, Oscar, you will.

"Prism! Where is that baby?"