Got a bottle on ice.

WFMU’s print zine, Lowest Common Denominator, is accepting submissions for our summer Issue! We’re looking for:

• Art: Comics, illustration, collage, photography, etc.—one page or less preferred
• Writing: Up to 500 words

Deadline: Fri., 5/15

Submit at wfmu.org/lcd. Questions? Email lcd@wfmu.org

He's such a fucking hairy wart.

The dialogue was always the deal-breaker for me. Hardy Boys level, which is fine if you’re ten.

Saw them that June. He still had the mohawk.

The insecurity of these bean wieners will kill is all.

Being survivors, they will learn, adapt, and most definitely lead that tech turd to the river. And I will cheer.

I remember when we met, skinny dipping in raw sewage. He said something. I thought it was a frog.

Haha. I got a laugh out of the ALT text at least.

Oh man, all good thoughts going Big Max's way. Our pooch is currently recovering from valley fever and I know what a gut punch it is to have an ailing critter.

Alan wins most unintentionally funny editorial of the year, and beyond.

Heard a passing cyclist in full-throated discussion of his IQ reference Zimbabwe and immediately knew he was a gutter racist, all in a span of five seconds.

Swing and a miss.

There comes a point where you look at the four remaining hot dog buns in the bag and think yeah, that qualifies as bread.

I salute you.

This doesn’t even reach the level of performative.

Yeah, this is some really weak tea.

Spike!

It’s always happy hour in Valhalla.

That egg is hard boiled.

He’s a handful, but our kinda handful!

Walked through our door and let out a mournful howl five years ago today. Runs the place now.

The back doors of Tucson.

The back doors of Tucson.

I, for one, would be grateful.

“Tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection“ makes me think it should be the other way around.

Study later is some real Silence of the Lambs level shit.

Yep. Sitting next to dad watching full armor humping was sensory overload.

I stopped at one.