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Comics I Follow

Andertoons

By Mark Anderson

The Argyle Sweater

By Scott Hilburn

Aunty Acid

By Ged Backland

Bottom Liners

By Eric and Bill Teitelbaum

Bound and Gagged

By Dana Summers

Brevity

By Dan Thompson

Brewster Rockit

Close to Home

By John McPherson

Cornered

By Mike Baldwin

Eek!

By Scott Nickel

F Minus

By Tony Carrillo

Farcus

By David Waisglass and Gordon Coulthart

The Flying McCoys

By Glenn McCoy and Gary McCoy

Free Range

By Bill Whitehead

Half Full

By Maria Scrivan

In the Bleachers

By Ben Zaehringer

Loose Parts

Moderately Confused

By Jeff Stahler

Off the Mark

Pickles

Reality Check

By Dave Whamond

Ripley's Believe It or Not

By Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

Rubes

Scary Gary

Speed Bump

By Dave Coverly

Strange Brew

By John Deering

Working Daze

By John Zakour and Scott Roberts

Recent Comments

about 20 hours ago on Free Range

Some parts are like that.
about 20 hours ago on Bottom Liners

They should go to North Korea. Nine have gone already. (Laibach, Michael Palin, Donald Trump, Reverend Moon. Reverend Billy Graham, King Sihanouk of Cambodia and Dennis Rodman)
2 days ago on Reality Check

Close enough.
2 days ago on The Flying McCoys

Shouldn’t there be an “ly” on it making it slowly?
2 days ago on Brewster Rockit

I want to hear the words to those songs.
2 days ago on Farcus

They already have that have serve it everyday.
2 days ago on Farcus

Looks yummy!
3 days ago on F Minus

Are they part of The Mighty Ducks and are doing the Flying V?
3 days ago on Farcus

Looks like a fun class to take.
4 days ago on Rubes

Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam, Where the deer and the antelope play, Where seldom is heard a discouraging word, And the skies are not cloudy all day. Home, home on the range, Where the deer and the antelope play, Where seldom is heard a discouraging word, And the skies are not cloudy all day. Where the air is so pure, and the zephyrs so free, The breezes so balmy and light, That I would not exchange my home on the range, For all of the cities so bright. The Red man was pressed from this part of the west, He’s likely no more to return, To the banks of the Red River where seldom if ever Their flickering campfires burn. How often at night when the heavens are bright, With the light from the glittering stars, Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed, If their glory exceeds that of ours. Oh, I love these wild flowers in this dear land of ours, The curlew I love to hear cry, And I love the white rocks and the antelope flocks, That graze on the mountain slopes high. Oh give me a land where the bright diamond sand, Flows leisurely down in the stream; Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along, Like a maid in a heavenly dream.Then I would not exchange my home on the range, here the deer and the antelope play; Where seldom is heard a discouraging word, And the skies are not cloudy all day.

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