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Slylock Fox, 8/26/06

Poor Count Weirdly! Why can’t he draw the plans for his new lair, to be built on federally protected wilderness land, in peace, without that damn fox detective keeping tabs on his routine real estate decisions? The sheer density of creepy critters in this cartoon indicates that he needs a mountaintop castle with a bit more space. I like the fact that the Count eschews chairs in favor of a stubby butt-supporting beast that he presumably whipped up in his lab.

Family Circus, 8/26/06

Portrait of a vacation that has gone on too long: Dolly fills PJ’s head with libelous lies, Jeffy refuses to blow his own nose, and Billy, holding a purse for some reason, looks ready to get into the car of whichever stranger offers him candy first. Meanwhile, Daddy seems to be contemplating how far he can get from his family if he just starts walking and never looks back.

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Gil Thorp, 8/25/06

A few weeks ago, I pondered the ethics of enjoying Marty Moon’s spiral down to rock bottom. Now that he’s gotten there — passing out drunkenly in your car because you lost a four-figure sum to a Ben Franklin lookalike playing golf being pretty much the lowest point of spiritual debasement I can come up with — I stand by my conclusion that it’s not just ethical, but mandatory. I particularly like how he goes from unshaven, crooked-grinned drunken bravado in panel one to head-in-hands shame in panel two. In panel three, it appears that his coffee arrived just a few seconds too late, and he’s about to flop face-first onto the table in blessed unconsciousness.

Crock, 8/25/06

Haw, haw! Overeating men are from Mars, and overeating women are from Venus! Seriously, though, if you could get a big Box O’ Tacosâ„¢, I might seriously look into how much one cost.

Beetle Bailey, 8/25/06

I’m pretty sure that Beetle will be recounting this conversation on the witness stand at Rocky’s war crimes trial.

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Luann, 8/24/06

As noted, “couples retreat” was clearly code for “swinger’s convention”; thus, “Kamp Kouple,” which is what’s emblazoned on Mr. and Mrs. DeGroot’s t-shirts, is clearly code for “Nondescript airport hotel where we rented all the rooms for a week and paid the staff extra to look the other way while we engage in random ‘kouplings.'”

While I have too much dignity to offer “Kamp Kouple” t-shirts, thanks to the amazing graphics skills of faithful reader mon-ma-tron, you’ll be able to celebrate this year’s hottest pop culture phenomenon in garment form in short order:

I’ll make these shirts on the CafePress store when I return to Baltimore next week … but until then, this should whet your ironic-logo appetite!