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Comics archive! Slylock Fox

Saturday quickies

Crankshaft, 5/23/15

Philosophical question for you: if you derive joy from seeing Crankshaft so emotionally devastated that he’s thrown a towel over his head so that nobody can see him sobbing uncontrollably, are you as bad as Crankshaft? Asking for a friend.

Mary Worth, 5/23/15

“For instance, we’re probably too old to have children, but that doesn’t mean we can’t nurture this horrifying stuffed dog I won for you at the fair! We’ll treat like it’s our very own and force all our friends to stare into its uncanny face, and won’t even have to pay to send it to college!”

Slylock Fox, 5/23/15

Speaking of uncanny faces, check out these cats! Which two are exactly alike? Why not examine them intently until you can figure it out, or until you pass out while sweating and crying uncontrollably, whichever comes first?

Hoping they crash and it turns into an Alive situation real fast

Slylock Fox, 5/11/15

It’s more than a little sad, really, that even after the animals achieved sapience, even after they adopted the worst aspects of the mostly vanished human race — wearing their clothes, living in their emptied buildings, stealing from and lying to each other, going to museums to gawk at the detritus of the dead — they still retain some dim memory of, and yearing for, their previous state. The government that employs Slylock may be based in the garbage-strewn cities that humanity left behind, but they still think of themselves as forest dwellers, and so their national museum is still the Forest Museum, even though there isn’t a tree in sight. Perhaps the state’s figurehead ruler lives in the forest part time, for ceremonial reasons, but the animals are civilized now, as disquieting as they find that fact. Those rats, though — those brutal, grim-faced enforcers Slylock’s brought in to show the security guard what happens to lawmen who turn — those rats have never seen a forest in their lives. They’re city folk through and through.

Mary Worth, 5/11/15

“Curiously excited!” is a really specific emotion, Toby, so congrats on your ability to distinguish it at a distance on the faces of people you don’t know very well. I guess they were curiously excited about seeing how Adam would do in the first of the several tests Terry is posing to him during his trial period to see if he’s worthy of her love. Can Adam operate a hot air balloon in what appears to be the absence of a certified balloonist? Or will he send the two of them careening to their deaths on the rocky, forbidding mountains that surround Santa Royale?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/11/15

I love that “working hard” for Rex means drinking coffee and reading the newspaper and answering his daughter’s questions in as few syllables as possible. Also, I’ve come to accept the idea that creepy adult-child Sarah is an artistic prodigy, but if she manages to settle the age-old philosophical question “What is art?” while she’s still in kindergarten, I’m gonna be pretty pissed.


Panel from Slylock Fox, 5/10/15

Slylock is of course the king of being a dick to everyone around him, including his supposed friends, but this seems like a particularly low blow. Like all the sapient animals in this strip, Max is still pretty new to using language, and is maybe a little sensitive and awkward about it. “Hey, Max,” says Slylock, “did you know that what you perceive as a self-directed ability to generate ideas ex nihilo is just putting words in order that someone else thought up? Guess you’re not as smart as you think!” Max dies a little inside. Is he still the tiny, unthinking rodent he once was? Do his hat and shorts count for nothing? He’ll get past this moment of self-doubt, probably; Slylock will wait until his self-confidence is built up a bit more before dropping the Library of Babel on him.

Panels from Judger Parker, 5/10/15

Oh, hey, remember that whole Rocky-and-Godiva-are-fighting plot that was ultimately resolved when Rocky and Godiva stopped fighting and skipped out on dinner, so they could have sex? Well, bad news: seems they had sex … to death.