Archive: Apartment 3-G

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Blondie and The Lockhorns, 3/16/09

As a result of this confluence of comic themes, I thought perhaps that there was some sort of nationwide blood drive going on today, of which I would naturally be unaware because the very thought of a needle makes me weep like a pathetic little baby and vomit in terror. Still, about thirty seconds of Google searching (all the research I’m ever willing to do for anything, because I am one of The Kids Today) seems to rule out that idea, so I guess it’s just one of those occasional cartoon coincidences. That’s just as well, as neither today’s Blondie nor today’s Lockhorns would really inspire people to go give the life-saving gift of blood; instead, they’ll just associate this selfless act with their their terrible job or their soul-killing marriage, respectively.

Gasoline Alley, 3/16/09

It looks like there’s some middle-aged, somewhat hard of hearing, working-class romance brewing in Gasoline Alley! Which is great, as it will surely keep the loathsome Slim out of the narrative eye, but I find panel two, in which Gertie stares straight out at us and demands that we, the readers, acknowledge our attractiveness and update her on dinner, kind of unnerving. Perhaps if I still read comics in the paper, I’d have gotten the 3-D glasses that are an integral part of this very special Gasoline Alley experience.

Apartment 3-G, 3/16/09

“I hope you like olives!” Vaguely promising, but, you know, it’s still Tommie, so not sexy at all.

UPDATE: Sorry, kids, your faithful blogger was way behind and is sleepy — COTW coming tomorrow morning!

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Apartment 3-G, 3/13/09

Margo is far too classy to wear a lavender track suit to lunch at the Plaza, despite her other incomprehensible fashion crimes — like, say, wearing a lavender track suit while not having lunch at the Plaza.

Marvin, 3/13/09

The urine and feces produced by Marvin and his family pets will continue to be the source of jokes in this feature until eventually you beg for the return of Belly Laffs.

Pluggers, 3/13/09

OK, PLUGGERS, WE GET IT! YOU HAVE DIFFICULTY POOPING! GEEZ LOUISE!

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/10/09

OK, I’m sure I’m going to get all sorts of comments and emails from doctors and other medical personnel (and from the developers of medical-themed Web sites) about how the Internet is going to revolutionize medicine and replace those huge, hard-to-read medical textbooks and not every doctor holds all information about all diseases in his head at all times and blah blah blah, but … I find panel two, in which Rex makes his serious face and declares that he’ll be solving this medical crisis with the help of the Internet, to be kind of funny. I guess I mostly associate the intersection of the Web and medical diagnoses with people posting things like “how can u tell if u have siphalis?” to Yahoo! Answers and/or hypochondriacs spending ten minutes with WebMD and coming away convinced their sore throat is esophageal cancer. I’m all the more skeptical because the weaselly little ship’s doctor is blatantly coming down with Norwalk himself right before our eyes, while all Rex can do is stand around and look concerned in a manly way while he reaches for any excuse to get down to the ship’s computer lab and start his intensive search for barely legal Ukrainian soldier-boy porn.

Marvin, 3/10/09

“Oh, excellent! I’ve just constructed a delightful little joke that based on two complementary concepts, ‘work’ and ‘play’! Except … it’s possible that the rubes who read this strip won’t pick up on my subtle wordplay. How can I make things a bit more obvious? I know … now, where did I put that bold font?”

Family Circus, 3/10/09

Berating your baby brother is all good fun, Jeffy, but you’d better watch yourself: it looks like PJ’s time as the only member of the Keane Klan who doesn’t know how to punch you in the face is about to end just … about … now.

Apartment 3-G, 3/10/09

OMG MOMENTOUS MOMENT! Margo’s father finally appears in the strip! And he looks … uh … pretty much like every other dude who has appeared in Apartment 3-G, ever. Huh. Whee.