Love is being bummed out that your boyfriend is too stressed/asleep/ill/dead to have sex.

Love is how far too many Americans tend to vote. Not based on a candidate's stance on issues, and not based on a candidate's experience. Rather, we vote based on how the candidate makes us feel. Our hearts tell us to vote for a candidate that knows how to charm us, and convincingly lie to us.

In short: love is the fuel for corruption in politics.

LOVE IS CHEATING ON YOUR HUSBAND.

Love is thinking of him when you're naked in the rain, imagining him having a much better time than you.

Love is hiding behind your football player boyfriend, because he's too poor and busy from football to buy you clothes.

Monday's "Argyle Sweater"

I loled.

Two posts today, just to catch up. I haven't been doing this consistently every day because I've been pretty busy with the kind of things that are supposed to matter.

Not sure if anybody is really reading, anyway.

Love is throwing a surprising enough surprise party that it'll make someone's pupils grow to cover the entire span of their eyes. It scares the shit out of me when they do that to the girl in these.

Love is sharing gloves to keep two people's hands warm despite there being only one pair.

This would be OK, if it weren't for the fact that the Love Is formula calls for the couple to be completely naked. If they were trying to keep warm, wouldn't they be sharing a whole lot else?

Therefor: Love is sharing gloves for no apparent reason.

Love is having a rare disease known as "the sniffles", which makes you fuss over your significant other in excessive and insane ways. Symptoms may include forcing him to remain in bed while you serve him bowls of fruit, with fruit jam put into salt & pepper shakers; putting a thermometer into his mouth backwards, and preventing him from shaving. Also, the inflicted may experience a severe loss of feet.

Love is being a bitch about nice gestures.

Love is when you shine brighter than all other stars, which is usually noticed first by the person who decides to make a super cheesy remark so that he/she may receive kisses. If you are actually shining, please consult a doctor.

Love is getting lucky and keeping your fingers crossed for no STDs.

Love is the hormonal rush of fluids to the brain, upon engaging in a vehicular incident.

Love is sitting around and writing a list of chores for the man-o-the-house to take on, after he's finished watching sports on TV. You could have done some of these things yourself while he was preoccupied- but you'd rather just do the all important task of writing them all down on a piece of some kind of weird map paper that unrolls all the way to the floor.

Why do you do this? Most likely because what love really is, is not having any confidence in your abilities as a woman, because you grew up reading comics like Love Is.

Love is when your bathroom mirrors get all steamed up from a shower, and you write something ridiculous in the fog that no one will ever read. I usually write "boobs" or something just because I'm bored, so I guess I love boobs.

Love is like, being cool with parking tickets and court hearings, and mail bombs and pregnancies and STDS and breakup letters... I guess...

Just seeing if anyone is paying attention...

Love is keeping your mouth shut when he's attempting to sneak out the door in a very suspicious looking trench coat. Just keep telling yourself it's for those "secret dancing lessons." Just keep telling yourself that.

Love is NOT the sum total of mass after it has been multiplied by the square of light-speed, then multiplied by two. No, love is too elusive and pure for that. Love is something that science can't quantify.

Love, like everything else that science can't measure, logically and probably does not exist.

Love is made out of thousands of little kisses. Once you make love, (out of these kisses) you can build a giant spiky heart out of them to sit on, because you love being stabbed in the ass.

Love is wishing you could ride a giant heart through a river made up of smaller hearts? What the hell is this shit? I guess I'm not surprised.

Love is a game. More specifically: Chess. The girl has to lose, because she can only move forward two spaces on her first move; one space for all other moves; and only diagonal while attacking. Men get to be knights.

Love is when a complete stranger approaches you naked, brings you flowers, and over-assertively insists that he loves you.

A New Satire On Another Terrible Strip.

It has recently occurred to me that in this "internet age" of blogs, youtube, ytmnd and web comics, that the current culture has almost completely lost interest in a once very popular form of humor. I am speaking of course of non-other than the "Sunday Funnies," which can still be found in the back of any weekly newspaper. Apparently someone is still reading them, because they are still consistently being printed- but I for one am lost as to who could possibly find the least bit of interest in any of these dry, effortless, and stupid comic strips.

And I am not the only one who feels this way. For almost two years, Joe Mathlete has been consistently posting a hilarious Blog entitled Marmaduke Explained, in which Mathlete points out Marmaduke writer Brad Anderson's vast errors in logic and humor. In another mocking satire of a Sunday strip, Jim Davis' once popular work of Garfield has been transformed into Garfield Minus Garfield, which makes the argument that upon editing Garfield himself out of the original strip, "the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life."

So perhaps this distaste just comes from being born too late in 20th century to understand. More likely, I believe the reason lies in the ridiculous demand to consistently produce comics every Sunday -since the 50s- and somehow still be expected to produce something remotely laughable. Either that, or people born more than 50 years ago all just have horrifyingly lame senses of humor.

Whatever the reason, I have created this blog to do nothing other than throw my hat into the ring against perhaps a lesser known, yet equally aggravating strip known as "Love Is." I haven't actually seen it in any newspaper syndication recently, but I see no reason for that to prevent us having a little fun. Inspired by the plethora of other Sunday-Funny Satirists, I intend to partially borrow Mathlete's formula and begin "Love Is Explained." For those of you who don't know about the atrocious piece of filth Stefano Casali and Bill Asprey are trying to pass off as the "cute comic" Love Is, you can read about it here. The website still makes daily updates, and quite honestly, my reactions to any one of them range from everything to mind blistering confusion, to a stomach sickening urge to puke out my entire intestinal track.

Anyway, Love Is Explained will, as Marmaduke Explained does, attempt to shed some light on a strip that others certainly feel has existed for far too long without contest. My approach will admittedly be similar to Mathlete's. Some days I may edit the caption of the comic itself. Some days I'll just write "explanations." Today, I'll do one of each.

Enjoy.