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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/15/26

I’m sorry, the inhabitants of Hootin’ Holler speak in an exaggerated rustic faux-hillbilly dialect, so I simply do not accept that Loweezy would utter the sentence “Recent events have raised Jughaid’s already unrealistic expectations.” I do, however, accept that the inhabitants of Hootin’ Holler, connected to the outside world only via feeble radio signals and whatever news they get by word of mouth from flatlander visitors, would consider April’s Artemis II lunar flyby to be “recent events.”

Gearhead Gertie, 10/15/26

I love how Gertie has basically the same vacant, cheerful expression in both panels here. She loves Dale Earnhardt! And imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so she loves Carson Hocevar, for sincerely flattering Dale Earnhardt!

Gil Thorp, 10/15/26

“Plus, I’m a coach, not a player, so I’ll be on the sidelines and won’t have any physical contact with him. Have fun getting concussed or maimed or whatever!”

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Dick Tracy, 10/14/26

Dick Tracy has a new artist, longtime Tracy superfan Howie Noel, and I am here to report that, in this house, we are now Howie Noel superfans, as this week has reliably delivered panel after panel of real fucked-up shit, which I mean in the most complimentary possible sense. A detective with a neanderthal-level brow ridge and free-flowing beads of sweat. A weird pinheaded nurse in an archaic outfit. A tiny man the size of a ventriloquist’s dummy, or possibly just an actual ventriloquist’s dummy that the nurse is operating. The tiny man/dummy has unpleasantly long fingernails, by the way. A+ all around!

Mary Worth, 10/14/26

OK, so, Toby is still crashing out over the entirely not real Ian/Mary rumors, but let’s look on the bright side for her: artistically, she’s moved on from her “hideous grey animal-shaped blobs” period to her “mawkish painted animal figurines” period, which should be more marketable if nothing else.

Beetle Bailey, 10/14/26

Look, I know that General Halftrack’s coffee tastes can’t possibly be what anyone would call sophisticated, but I refuse to believe that even the most skilled practitioner could make anything in that circa 1975 Mr. Coffee machine that would live up to the name “barista.”

Hi and Lois, 10/14/26

Oh, so Chip isn’t competent to babysit when Hi’s just trying to get some work done at the office, but he’s perfectly capable of doing so when Lois is horny, huh? Interesting. Interesting.

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Gil Thorp, 10/13/26

It looks like we’re approaching the final Borys Orlov vs. Adrian Blatz showdown we’ve all been waiting for, but first, a little background on Borys: he may not remember the sound of Russian munitions raining down on his war-torn homeland, but he does remember a name, a name that echoed on the wind that blew across the Eurasian steppe. “Gil Thorp,” he heard, even as a child, even before he could understand what the syllables mean, what a name was. “Gil Thorp.” As geopolitics fell into violent chaos around him, he only had ears for that name, that mysterious name, “Gil Thorp,” that he somehow knew, without knowing how he knew, denoted his destiny.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 10/13/26

Ha ha, remember Mussolini? The guy who invented fascism, ruled Italy with an iron fist for decades, allied with Hitler, and ended up executed by partisans at a gas station? Well, what if there were a restaurant named after him? They’d probably have a dish with a name that punned on the word “dictator,” because Mussolini was a dictator, ha ha! Also, they’d probably have another dish that punned on “Benito,” which was Mussolini’s first name. Anyway, don’t think too hard about the type of guy who would open a restaurant named “Mussolini’s,” unless you want to completely ruin your day.