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The Lockhorns, 3/22/07

I know this isn’t really going out on a limb, since everyone in the Lockhorns (except for the statuesque blondes that Leroy is always drunkenly flirting with at parties) is pretty much the same person except for the clothes and hair, but: doesn’t Loretta’s mother look exactly like Leroy, except with, um, different clothes and hair? For some reason, their resemblance is especially creepy to me because her hair looks exactly like the wig that Norman wears when he turns into Mother in Psycho. So, even though it’s unlikely, what with their both being in the panel here and all, I’d like to believe that Leroy becomes “Mother-in-Law” when his internalized mental anguish forces him to kill. This feature would be better if there were more stabbings, is what I’m trying to get at.

Apartment 3-G, 3/22/07

The thing is, I’m not sure what Margo would find “sweet” — when a man kills for her? — but I’m willing to bet it isn’t the kind of mopey, passive-aggressive poor-me game that Gary is playing here. I guess she might think it’s “sweet” in the sense of “isn’t that sweet, my dopey roommate has attracted someone who’s an even bigger loser than she is.”

Funky Winkerbean, 3/22/07

GOD DAMN IT, FUNKY WINKERBEAN, WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE DAMN CANCER WITH YOU? CANCER CANCER CANCER! THERE ARE OTHER KILLER DISEASES, YOU KNOW! WHY CAN’T IT BE AIDS? OR EBOLA? GIVE IT A REST WITH THE DAMN CANCER ALREADY? CHRIST!

Judge Parker, 3/22/07

Wow, so this is what it eventually comes to for humanities Ph.D. students? And I thought my occasional stints as a temp doing filing or reception work were beneath my dignity. Looks like I got out of grad school just in time!

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/21/07

Oh, really, Warren. Did you believe that you would be safe in your own head if you were trying to woo a Patterson lass? Did you believe that every stray synapse firing wouldn’t be held up against an impossible jury to find you unworthy? Did you think that we wouldn’t be able to see into your very soul? Clearly, you have shown that you cannot be allowed to marry Liz. The only one pure enough of heart is the Mustache, who begged her to wait for him right after she was almost raped, when he was still married. ONLY THE MUSTACHE IS COMPLETELY PURE OF MIND AND READY FOR THE AWESOME MAJESTY OF LIZ.

Ziggy, 3/21/07

Ha ha! Ziggy has to wipe, but his dog won’t let him! This is simultaneously the most disgusting and most hilarious Ziggy ever.

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Gil Thorp, 3/20/07

Some days, when I’m having a busy day, like I did today (I’m guest-blogging at Wonkette all week, by the way, and trying to get Mary Worth restored to the Washington Post in the process), I see dozens of comments come in about a particular strip before I see the strip itself. Sometimes all the build-up is more than a strip can bear, but panel two of today’s Gil Thorp was all I had been led to hope for and more. The sight of Tyler beating himself in the back of the head in some suburban alley — with the baffling motion lines turning the scene into an Escher-esque impossibility, and with the tiny moon floating behind him, making it look like he’s dislodged one of his own eyeballs — well, it’s pretty much the best thing I’ve seen today. I’d like to think that we’re seeing smack number four here.

Mary Worth, 3/20/07

Mary Worth was of course almost as entertaining, with her creepy finger-touching. It’s like she’s measuring Vera to make sure she’ll fit in the apartment. Or, actually, it’s like she’s Judy Davis in a straight-to-Showtime movie called “Suburban Madame,” and she’s checking out the new meat to arrive at her peaceful condo complex/brothel.

Apartment 3-G, 3/20/07

This is why Tommie and Margo need Lu Ann back so badly: it’s her well-meaning idiocy that holds the trio together. Never has the contrast between the two been so apparent as in the last panel: Margo, very, very high, vibrating like a tuning fork and popping out nonsensical questions because she can scarcely be bothered to focus enough to have an actual conversation, and Tommie, collapsing inward into her mopey core, looking like she’d be glad to slit her wrists if the prospect of failing even to do that right wasn’t so embarrassing.

Pluggers, 3/20/07

The plugger’s number two rule: Oh, just buy the semi-rotted fruit. You don’t deserve any better.