Marmaduke's owner-man changes the plot of a fairy tale to appeal more to the interests of his dog. Marmaduke's owner-girl calls her father out on his revisions, perturbed that he cares more about pleasing Marmaduke than his own child. In Owner-Man's defense, Owner-Girl is infinitely less likely and/or able to maim Owner-Man if she is upset about something trivial and arbitrary.

Marmaduke wants more out of life and has decided to better himself.

Marmaduke decided to take a nap on the couch that his owner-man was napping on, and as there is room for only one of them, Owner-Man obviously had to go. Owner-Girl pulls out a pop-culture reference seven years past its prime in an attempt to lighten the mood and lessen her father's embarrassment at once again being on the receiving end of domestic abuse from a house pet.

Marmaduke is disregarding last night's heavy snow and destroying his fat, elderly neighbor's lawn with his powerful forelegs and indiscriminate rage. His fat, elderly neighbor risks certain death by daring to suggest that Marmaduke channel his berserk, spiteful fury into helping him shovel his walkway.

Marmaduke and his owner-man are snoring discordantly. Owner-lady is upset that their harmonies are off, but is fine with the fact that a humongous dog is somn-frottaging her husband.

Marmaduke sneezed so hard his doghouse collapsed, severely injuring him. His owner-lady gawks and issues a dry understatement instead of offering any help.

Marmaduke can apparently read and write, but somehow the concept that he can also understand spoken English is beyond Owner-Man's grasp.

Marmaduke has taught his owner-boy the two most important principles by which he leads his life: get into mischief (in this case with dozens of snowballs) and make Owner-Lady's life revolve around yours via selfishness (such as taking up all the room her refrigerator with snowballs) and ignorant destructiveness (such as choosing to fill the refrigerator rather than the freezer with said snowballs, which will eventually melt and cause, at best, an awful mess).

Imaginary Dental School is going well; thank you for asking

Happy Year of the Boar, Marmaduke explanation enthusiasts... While the rest of you were out having fun setting off roman candles and drinking sparkling grape juice and making kisses, I was hard at work at Imaginary Dental School's Skeeter Danderslice Von Toothsworthy library, cramming for my Intro to Flossing exam. I can't say that it's been tons of fun for me lately, trying to balance my grueling uphill battle to be a fake dentist with my more artistic endeavors, but it'll be all be worth it someday, when I'm finally pretend-qualified to fix people's teeth.

Speaking of Imaginary Dental School, I've finished emailing the first batch of Certificates of Charitability to those kind souls who generously donated to the Official Joe Mathlete Imaginary Dental School Tuition Foundation. There was a guy named Seth who didn't get his, but he had a Hotmail account and it was probably full so I got it returned. Seth, delete some stuff and/or get a decent email provider, then get back to me. I will continue emailing these certificates on a weekly basis, provided that anyone is awesome enough to support my dubious medical aspirations. If you're curious, this is what Chocolate-Level Donors ($10-$100) receive:



I'll do the thing with the dog cartoon again tomorrow and the next day and so forth. T-shirt preorders forthcoming.

Beats,

Joe Mathlete

Marmaduke killed and ate Santa Claus.