Apartment 3-G, 4/12/14
DEER DRAMA UPDATE: After being yelled at by the mean large animal vet for taking a baby deer out of the wild and raising it in a New York City apartment and leaving it completely unfit for life in its natural habitat, Tommie became convinced that the vet was going to kill the baby deer and so she and the deer fled, and now she’s preparing to do the only thing more insane than keeping a baby deer in a New York City apartment: keeping a baby deer in a motel where they probably won’t even let you keep a dog without paying a hefty deposit. “Deer? What deer? Why, this is my son, my hairy, hairy son, as you can tell because he’s saying ‘bleat’ aloud rather than actually bleating like a deer would. By the way, this room smelled like deer urine when I checked in, and I’ll be saying as much in my Tripadvisor review.”
Family Circus, 4/12/14
I was about to make some joke about how the shocked children look like they’re about to stone Billy to death for his anachro-technological heresy, but then I got a gander at the so-called “teacher” at this supposed Sunday School. Look at that shaggy haircut! The shirt unbuttoned almost all the way down to the breastbone! No wonder Billy thinks he can spout off this nonsense in the middle of class! What’s next? Popular music during services? The priest facing towards the congregation during the consecration of the host? Ecumenicalism? This is madness!
Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/12/14
Haha, don’t think June has let go of the fact that some extremely mild teen making out might have taken place under her roof, because she hasn’t! Obviously, it’s not about Niki, because he’s a boy and we all know it’s totally cool when teenage boys do sex things. No, it’s about Kelly, and figuring out just exactly how dirty a little tramp she is! This is important, doc … make the call!
Mary Worth, 4/8/14
It tells you a lot about Mary Worth as a strip that this storyline about a drug dealing ex-con trying to find his way in mainstream society has mainly been about the quasi-romantic relationship between the ex-con’s mother and a bald advice columnist, and it tells you a lot about me as a person that I’ve been loving every minute of it. Anyway, Wilbur’s attempt to win Iris’s love by driving a wedge between her and Tommy seems to be going exactly as planned! “Yesssss,” he thinks, “women always get super mad at you before they do sex things with you, right? We’re going to do so many sexy things, after I tell her to kick Tommy out. But not yet, Wilbur, not yet! You need to play that trump card at just … the right … moment.”
Mark Trail, 4/8/14
After being savagely beaten by a civilian vigilante, Marlin is finally being taken into custody by legitimate law enforcement officers, and while they’ll probably protect him from further arbitrary physical violence, they are subjecting him to the ultimate insult: symbolically stripping him of his whimsical nickname. No longer will he be permitted to refer to himself as “Marlin”! Noms de taxidermy are reserved for legitimate, non-poaching taxidermists! In the joint he will be known as “Ethan Fauscett,” and he will definitely suffer for it.
Apartment 3-G, 4/8/14
At last, someone is saying what we’ve all been thinking, and it’s Doctor Whatshisname, the large animal vet! I mean, he’s being kinda of harsh about it, but frankly the A3G girls could stand to have the phrase “helpless freak” shouted at them more often.
Hagar the Horrible, 4/4/14
In benighted, backwards 10th century Scandinavia, where even the rudimentary medical knowledge of the Greeks and Romans either had never been learned or was long forgotten, doctors worked on some combination of superstition, ignorance, and fraud, and so patients may as well have offered their own suggestions and advice on treatment. Still, Helga seems more pleased than you’d think imagining her husband being gorily dismembered in a scene that sounds less like surgery and more like a bloody sacrifice to the violent Norse pantheon.
It’s true: working in retail may be low-paying and low-status, but it sure beats dying in a far-off colonial war when your tiny, isolated fortlet is overrun by a bloodthirsty enemy.
Remember when Heathcliff panels about using marine life as sporting equipment seemed to be written so as to include jokes of some kind, even if they weren’t obviously funny in any way? Well, now they’re just naming fish species. Sad, really.
Apartment 3-G, 4/4/14
I was going to make a joke that panel one here featured Tommie’s post-coital request for oral servicing from this rough-hewn large animal vet, or that Lily in panel two had become so crazed with hunger that she learned how to open a car door, but then I got a good look at Tommie’s huge, terrifying claw-flipper in the first panel, so now I’m just going to sit here and gibber wordlessly for a while.
Better Half, 4/4/14
Speaking of horrifying nightmare-things, it looks like Cthulhu has finally awoken from his dreamless billion-year slumber! HAVE PITY ON US, CRUEL OLD ONE, AND CONSUME OUR SOULS WITH A MINIMUM OF AGONY