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Hello, everyone! Your comments of the week have arrived! Apologies, I only started keeping track of comments again when I returned from my trip — the depths of your epic mega-post are still unexplored. Also, cartoonists who may have missed it the first time around should check out my advertising special, for cartoonists! Half price ads for your pretty pictures!

Anyway, behold, your comment of the week!

“No, Trey Brooks! Don’t take off your scarf! That’s the only way we can tell which one you are!” –Spunde

And your very funny runners up!

“I love the look on Lu Ann’s face in the background of the second panel. Margo may be revving up to inflict a beating, but Lu Ann is all like, ‘Yay! Balloons!'” –Patrick

“‘No fouls called, everything goes!’ is exactly how I’d expect a Funky Winkerbean slashfic between Summer and Keisha to begin, with Ghost Lisa guiding her daughter’s hands as she checks her soulmate’s breasts for cancerous lumps. ‘Bring it!’, indeed.” –Ed Dravecky

“Jill is bringing an envelope with a hand-drawn card that she made in the form of a coupon stating that matrimony is just swell, and she, Jill, will marry one (1) eligible male of the bearer’s choice.” –[Old Man] Muffaroo

“Do you think the art directions in Judge Parker include things like ‘partially frame the scene with the jutting breasts of an attractive blonde in sunglasses’ or does that just happen naturally whenever the dialogue is dull law stuff?” –Aviatrix

“And just a heads-up, H & J, if you tell someone you were caught getting out of the shower, it’s pretty much assumed you were naked; you don’t have to keep saying it. Why the hell did you have to choose now to start getting all specific?” –Violet

“The can says ‘SPAM’ but we all know it’s the last two cans of the earthly remains of Barney Google. Bon appétit!” –zerowolf

“Mary can barely even conceal her derisive laughter behind her hors d’oeuvres as she watches this so-called ‘parental involvement’ unfold. ‘He’s your son, and he asked for your input,’ she thinks. ‘This is barely even meddling at all! Fucking amateur.’ –Doctor Handsome

“That kid’s not gay. He’s obviously just a blackjack dealer.” –Ethan Shuster

“OK, so I have no idea what possesses Spider-Man to say ‘Holy Hannah!’. But whatever you do, don’t turn to Google to try to make sense of it: that way lies madness, or at least a vague feeling of disappointment in that you should probably be making better use of your time.” –Jester

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Curtis, 1/7/11

Ha ha, yes, this — this — is what we tune into the annual Curtis Kwanzgaasm for. An eight-limbed dinosaur-like beast with spider-like hind-legs and a dolphin-style tail? Oh, and also, it has no eyes on its head, But it does have a freaky secondary face on its chest, with two eyes perched above a vestigial nose and then another terrifying eye where its mouth should be? Yes, yes, and yes. And now to see what this horrible thing — aw, it killed an adorable doggie? God damn it, this is the worst Kwanzaa ever.

Spider-Man, 1/7/11

Remember a few weeks ago, when Aunt May was captured by the Mole Man and whisked off to his underground kingdom? Well, here we go again! I’d actually love it if Spider-Man just kept repeating the same events: Aunt May is kidnapped by some monstrous being who lives closer to the Earth’s center then wherever she happens to be at the moment; although she’s at first terrified, she eventually comes to see the creature’s inner beauty, and agrees to marry it right around the time Spider-Man manages to organize a half-assed rescue attempt. A clergyman is produced, and then, just as the ceremony gets underway, with a mighty rumble a beastly hand or tentacle or claw or something bursts through the floor, snatches her off, and begins the cycle anew. This process continues until eventually the extreme heat and pressure of the Earth’s core kills everyone involved, much to the general relief of the readership.

Marmaduke, 1/7/11

Unable to end Marmaduke’s reign of flesh-eating terror through military means, the government is attempting to cut off his financing.

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/6/11

Having relentlessly overanalyzed Hootin’ Holler’s economy, let us spare a moment to contemplate its theological politics. Clearly the community is run by strict Calvinists who deem dancing to be an offense meriting execution. One has to admire the look of ecstacy on the Smifs’ faces as they face their martyrdom for hedonism.

Ziggy, 1/6/11

Ha ha! It’s funny because Ziggy is poor! And hungry. So very, very hungry.