Slylock Fox, 9/14/09
Longtime readers of Slylock Fox have long wondered at the nature of the judiciary in this realm of bipedal sentient animals. While this locality is equipped with a serviceable mostly-canine police force, there seems to be little regard for the constitutional rights of men or beasts, and Slylock Fox himself, while not obviously affiliated with the law enforcement apparatus in any institutional way, is permitted to imprison and convict suspects merely on the strength his own flimsy deductions. Today, we learn the truth: all the action in this strip takes place in some kind of despotic absolute monarchy, ruled over by Princess Pussycat’s iron fist, with Slylock as her chief and unquestioning Inquisitor, the Darth Vader to her Emperor Palpatine. Moreover, though the Princess is called “pussycat,” her fur/skin is a bright red not seen on any natural feline, leading me to the conclusion that she is an actual hell-demon, controlling her subjects with her devilish supernatural powers; she’s probably the one responsible for transforming them into terrible hybrid beast-men in the first place.
Today’s transgressor against Her Satanic Majesty is wearing the all-black uniform and sunglasses that indicate that he was actually a member of her feared secret police. Perhaps the temptation of selling her devil-gold was too much, or perhaps he finally had had enough and was planning to strike a blow against his evil overlord by disposing of one of her symbols of power. Either way, in short order Princess Pussycat’s palace attendant is going to demonstrate that the enormous axe he carries as part of his uniform is not ceremonial. Still, you have to admire Rodney’s chutzpah; even in the face of summary execution, he’s still offering a jaunty double thumbs-up and a Fonzie-style “Aaaayyyy.”
Funky Winkerbean, 9/14/09
Hold up, what … what is the deal with dude’s thighs in panel three? They’re all lumpy and misshapen, and not in proportion to the rest of him. It’s like he’s hiding a couple of hams in his pants, for the winter.
Oh, and also, people opposed to cancer and death played as spectacle are pin-headed philistines. Pin-headed philistines with weirdly misshapen thighs.
Today’s strip offers another entertaining moment in Spidey-Dimness, as Peter Parker reveals his total unfamiliarity with the concept of metaphors. “MJ, this is no time for confusing talk about meteorology! I’m busy whining about my constant failure!”
Once again Shoe’s patented Goggle-Eyed Reaction Shot Of Soul-Scraping Horror is right on target, as our mechanic instantly notices that, once the Perfesser’s inevitable slide into poverty reaches the point of homelessness, he’s planning on living in his car by himself. Where will his young ward Skyler be in this scenario? Presumably he’ll have long since been delivered to the Shoe-world’s equivalent of an orphanage, which, since everyone there is a bird, is probably an agro-industrial facility that processes low-grade poultry into soup stock.