Hagar the Horrible, 11/10/15
You know, we spend a lot of time watching Hagar and his Viking band destroying other people’s homes, so it’s about time we get some payback and see all of his worldly possessions, and possibly his terrified family, go up in flames. I feel strongly enough about this that I’m willing to accept Attila the Hun being the perpetrator, even though that’s about 500 years and 1,500 miles away from historical accuracy.
Mary Worth and The Phantom, 11/10/15
Haha, one of these people is a lot more interested in extending this relationship than the other one! “Uh, thanks for the ride, have fun with your actual friends!” “Here’s my number! I’ll be here for weeks! Call me about anything! An-y-thing.”
Judge Parker, 11/10/15
Oh, whew, Sam and Abbey don’t have to figure out how to get rid of the RV that they bought for a song and then suddenly got bored with. It’s going to serve as Neddy’s dowry!
Hagar the Horrible, 10/30/15
Thank goodness that we, as a society, have advanced to the point where the The Horribles’ healthy, active sex life can be openly discussed in the newspaper.
In the end, it wasn’t concern for their own well-being or the terrible toll on their families and friendships that got pluggers to take a hard look at their dependence on alcohol; it was their own physical infirmity.
Gasoline Alley, 10/30/15
THE DEAD ARE RISING
THE DEAD ARE RISING FROM THE GRAVE
THE RAPTURE IS HERE AND THE COMICS ARE FIRST
Funky Winkerbean, 9/2/15
Ha ha, remember Coach Stropp, who used to cruelly mock Les’s athletic ineptitude, back when this strip was funny? Well, he’s dead now.
Hagar the Horrible, 9/2/15
Ha ha, a Viking always pays his final respects to his enemy. After he’s dead! Like that guy is about to be. Hagar’s sword didn’t slice through the flesh of his face, but the blow to his head was probably hard enough that his brain is already starting to hemorrhage.
Ha ha, those birds have a feeling of impending doom! Probably because Heathcliff is about to kill and eat them, hopefully in that order.
Mary Worth, 9/2/15
Well, at least nobody’s dead or about to die in Mary Worth, as Toby prepares to stride purposefully out into single life wearing a purple tracksuit and electric blue jacket, and … wait, what’s that? Over on the bookshelf?
OH MY GOD IT’S THE ASHES OF A DEAD DOG, PROBABLY! Fido has never appeared as a beloved Cameron-pet in the thirteen years I’ve been reading this strip; possibly Ian owned the pup before he even met Toby. I sincerely hope tomorrow we see Ian lying in bed, weeping and reading Toby’s note for the fourth time, clutching this urn of dog cremains like his favorite teddy bear. “You understood me, Fido,” he sobs. “You’re the only one who ever understood me.”