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Wizard of Id, 5/17/11

One wonders why today’s Wizard of Id, having annotated with blunt-force onomatopoeia actions in the first two panels that would have been easily parsed as drawn without explanation, then goes on in panel three to illustrate … something … with a series of mysterious radiating lines. Are these supposed to represent light — a glow from within the bathroom, along the lines of the nuclear whatsit in Kiss Me Deadly, or a more abstract representation of the gargoyle’s shocking ugliness? Do they indicate sound, perhaps the gargoyle’s inarticulate shrieking? Or, considering that the magical beast has been interrupted on the toilet, maybe they’re stink lines? They’re stink lines, aren’t they? Since that’s the grossest possible answer, I’m going to assume that’s the case.

Apartment 3-G, 5/17/11

My favorite part of this strip is not the fact that Paul caught the bouquet (although it does make one smile to imagine his bridesmaids’ dresses, just as hideous in design as the one Lu Ann has on now, only they’re the same hideous orange creamsicle color as his suit), but all the single ladies flailing wildly about in the background, a full ten yards from anywhere the bouquet could have possibly landed. It’s like they’ve all been turned off marriage forever by the horrorshow before them, but feel they need to participate in this antiquated patriarchal ritual, for appearance’s sake.

The Lockhorns, 5/17/11

Who says the Lockhorns is out of touch? It takes someone with a near anthropological understanding of the nuances of modern American life to grasp the distinction between a “dude” and a “bro.”

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 5/17/11

Gosh, it looks like the whole rest of the week is going to be dedicated to the funeral of poor cuzzin Travis. Today, the town preacher implies in front of Travis’s whole family that he’s being tortured forever, in hell!

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Panel from Hi and Lois, 5/15/11

Perhaps you have lived your life thinking that Hi Flagston is a well-adjusted suburban dad and not a completely unfulfilled emotional basket case whose veneer of sanity is always on the verge of shattering, revealing the madness beneath? Well, today’s throwaway panel will change your mind, my friend. Just as Hi’s hero Tony Montana wiped out a trio of enemies with his improvised weaponry, Hi apparently plans to literally mow down anyone who stands in his way — starting, tragically, with his own son.

Apartment 3-G, 5/15/11

Whoops, it looks like I was wrong about who was getting married in the current A3G wedding interlude, but, in my defense, I don’t care about Jack and Doris at all, so whatever. Still, I have to admit that Doris’s ad-libbed “FOREVER” in panel two sounds a lot like what she’d proclaim right before, say, dipping her beloved in a vat of liquid bronze so that he remains forever perfect and untouched by the hand of time, which might explain why Margo looks so put off in the final panel by the thought that what happened at the church today could happen to anyone.

Beetle Bailey, 5/15/11

So, what’s the most disturbing panel in today’s Beetle Bailey? It’s the pillow-humping, right? It’s not just me, is it?

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Phantom, 5/9/11

Ooh, it’s a new Phantom adventure, everyone: “The College Kid!” And I am loving panel two, as the college kid taps away on that circa 1995 PC, ignoring the vaguely menacing jibes of the men around him and maintaining a look of withering contempt all the while. “These cretins seem to believe that just shouting can bring about a successful Internet money-making scheme! Soon I’ll produce a victory that will force them to acknowledge my importance to this criminal enterprise, and stop them from making fun of my blazer!”

Apartment 3-G, 5/9/11

Ha ha, the A3G makeover storyline may have flopped due to the artist’s inability to depict clothes that are remotely flattering or interesting-looking, but give him this: when called upon to draw the sort of hideous, unflattering dresses someone like Ruby would force upon her hapless bridesmaids, he fucking nails it.

Funky Winkerbean, 5/9/11

Hey, everyone in Les’s life: won’t you please shove a comforting metaphorical boob of reassurance into his mouth? It will probably shut him up!