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Hi and Lois, 1/23/06

That’s the spirit, guys: even if your sex life is on the rocks, you still know how to chase those workday blues away: with sweet, sweet liquor. Nice.

I’m assuming it’s working hours, since Lois is working at her desk, but what’s Hi doing at home? Maybe Lois is working late, and Hi is trying to woo her away from the siren song of real estate with the only bait that still works: hooch. Or maybe it’s the middle of the afternoon, and he got sent home because he’s been drunk for hours.

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Hi and Lois, 1/7/06

Hi and Lois, I don’t know how to make this any clearer: We don’t know want to know about your sex life, or lack thereof. Really, we don’t. So please stop now please. Now. Please.

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Something a little different for you today: America’s coming economic collapse, as foreshadowed in the funnies. Just a couple of days ago, Lois was chatting to one of her friends about her work:

Hi and Lois, 11/29/05

Today, though, the situation seems a little different:

Hi and Lois, 12/1/05

Hi and Lois deserves kudos for not only giving Lois a job, but giving Lois a job that isn’t a cop-out extension of the “lady’s work” she does at home (I’m looking at you, Blondie, you food-addiction enabler, you). Still, she’s throwing herself into her role as a pimp for the real-estate-industrial complex with a bit more enthusiasm than perhaps is wise. First, she’s telling Brunette Neighbor Lady Whose Name I Don’t Remember that the housing market is a nonstop rocket ride to the moon, with no possible downside. I knew a lot of people who talked like this when I worked for an Internet company in San Francisco in the late ’90s; despite their ostensible business savvy, they were a lot more surprised than I was when the pink slips started fluttering down on everyone’s desks. It’s only at show and tell that we see that the housing-market balloon is full of hot air and nothing more: making your kid shill crappy suburban bungalows to other kids reeks of financial flop sweat.