Bizarro is brought to you today by Paranoia.
It is the morning after Presidents Day, which means that most of you are reeling from a hangover. For those of you unlucky enough to have to return to work the day after such raucous celebrations, here’s a little tip: next year, while you’re still drunk from the insanity that is America’s most debauched holiday, insult a police officer. You’ll get arrested, be given a cell to sleep off the hangover, have the perfect excuse to miss work the next day and, whenever you feel the urge to vomit, you can just lean over and do it on the floor.
Hopefully, before you got wasted, you had a chance to take advantage of some of the amazing, once-a-year bargains on bedding. Here’s how my typical Presidents Day goes:
7am– awaken, shower and scan the newspapers and Interwebs for the best sales on bedding.
8am– mark the best sales on a map, then plot my travel so that I get to each location as early as possible so as not to miss out on any “while supplies last” goodies.
9am– leave my apartment to be certain to be at my first stop before the store opens at 10.
9:40 to 10am– convince as many people in line that I saw a news story on TV the previous night about how this particular store was infested with bedbugs. This cuts down on some of the shopping competition.
10am to 2pm– dash madly from store to store purchasing linens, comforters, dust ruffles, duvets, pillow cases and shams, and mattresses.
2:45– drop my acquisitions off at home, change into my Presidents Day costume. This year I was William Howard Taft.
3pm to dawn– hit the picnics, parades, bars and parties like a rabid vampire in a sorority house.
Dawn– insult a police officer.
I hope wherever you spent your holiday and wherever you are today, you’ll enjoy the cartoons I’ve posted here from this year and from 2000. One is about the rich man’s bartender, the other is about the poor man’s psychiatrist. I prefer the one who serves drinks and lets you stay longer than 45 minutes.