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Dick Tracy, 2/23/22

Kind of weird that Dick Tracy, the man who had a portable voice communications device decades before the rest of us had cell phones, apparently has a … pager? In the year of our lord 2022? Seems implausible, to me. Probably more likely that he’s just desperately trying to get away from Sam as Sam tries to ratiocinate his way to the solution that Dick is going to get by doing some light enhanced interrogation on an informant or two next week. “I’d love to really get into your thought process, Sam, but I’m [tries and fails to come up with a plausible-sounding excuse] getting a page from [tries and fails to come up with a normal-sound name] Riger.”

Crankshaft, 2/23/22

Look, I am a huge history dork, OK? Last fall one of the high points of my trip to New York was going to a tiny train museum in the Catskills where I bought this sign and was sincerely disappointed that we had dinner reservations and couldn’t stay for the talk they were giving about … I don’t remember now, but it was definitely train related. But even I would be very upset if I got a mysterious invite that made it seem like I’m about to learn that my great-aunt was going to leave her entire fortune to anyone brave enough to spend the night in a haunted house, but I show up and it turns out it’s just at the local Historical Society. This is going to turn out to be some NIMBY bullshit where Crankshaft And The Gang Stop Evil Developers From Tearing Down An Old But Disused Silent Movie Theater or something and I’m going to wish they had ended up saving journalism instead.

Funky Winkerbean, 2/23/22

Funky Winkerbean has taken a break from its a plot about how the Oscar nominations work that was marred by a number of errors of fact and chronology, and is now doing a riff about how everyone in Hollywood has an eating disorder, which I have to admit is pretty on point.

Mary Worth, 2/23/22

Oh, sorry, it looks like Cal isn’t going to bring his smoldering youthful libido into Toby’s staid life and reawaken her sexual self, which she thought died years ago in Ian’s bed. No, he’s going to want her to be his substitute mom, but like a cool mom, who doesn’t yell at him when he gets high with his bros and does getting-high-adjacent stuff like playing frisbee or watching Netflix but instead tells him he’s “feeding his creativity.” He will still expect her to sleep with him, though.