We cartoonists know our rights, so we show up for healthcare town halls armed with mighty pens, trying our best to do dead-on killer stuff. To the paranoid protesting pack, Tony Auth's South Lawn playground has grim reaper-cussions. Matt Bors' playful paraphrase of an apocalyptic aphorism comes to an unexpectedly upbeat conclusion. And my commander-in-chief executioner used a euthanasia euphemism to terminate old and tired discordant coverage.
-- Joel Pett