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Before I launch into Tuesday’s comics, there’s something I was going to put up yesterday and forgot! Faithful reader KT has drawn his own comic based on the Tucson Comics Curmudgeon get together. Check it out, especially if you were there!

Cathy, 4/8/08

I know I shouldn’t be trying to think too hard about Cathy, but it vaguely bothers me that Cathy invariably ACKS her way through a rehash of her various financial sins during her annual early-April trips to the accountant. It would be one thing if Cathy were some kind of rich heiress who had a full-time financial advisor who monitored her income and expenses over the course of the year, but, come on: he’s just doing your taxes. He just needs to know what numbers to put into the 1040 form. He doesn’t need to know about your credit-card abuse. The key, I suppose, is that Cathy is a never-ending cavalcade of nightmarish self-loathing; in the sense that, for instance, a dream about being back in high school and having to take a test you didn’t study for isn’t about your educational history per se, Cathy’s visits to the accountant are less about the U.S. tax code and more a vehicle for free-form economic anxiety. Similarly, Cathy’s bathing suit purchasing episodes aren’t really an attempt to acquire new swimwear, but merely provide an avenue for wallowing in hatred of one’s own body. It’s just that sort of deep panic and despair that makes this strip such a constant joy to read.

Beetle Bailey, 4/8/08

Speaking of symbolically loaded nightmare visions, the action in today’s Beetle Bailey obviously takes place in the sleeping Sgt. Snorkel’s unconscious, as his mind tries to deal with his overwhelming attraction to Beetle that threatens to overwhelm his dedication to Army regulations and his moral code. Here, his fondest wish — Beetle served up on a plate, to “eat” — is played out metaphorically. The shape of the Beetleloaf in panel two is highly suggestive, but the unappetizing color represents Sarge’s superego making a last-ditch effort to dissuade him from his forbidden lust.

It’s also possible that, in an attempt to keep costs down and corporate profits high, the KBR contractors running Camp Swampy’s mess hall are killing the slower-moving soldiers, putting them through some kind of enormous meat grinder, and feeding them to their hapless comrades.

Herb and Jamaal, 4/8/08

At last, we find out why the characters in this strip refuse to call pop-culture products by name: as we can see in panel one, local movie outlets (and presumably book stores and TV stations) replace the actual titles of these entertainments with illegible squiggles. Poor Herb and Jamaal have no choice but to squint at the marquee for a few moments before requesting tickets to “that new action movie that everyone’s talking about.”

Apartment 3-G, 4/8/08

Notice that Alan has to point to his shitty painting in panel two, because otherwise Blaze would have no idea what he’s referring to when he mentions “making art.” “Oh, you mean this … thing … here? Oh. Huh.”

In panel three, however, the boys are giving each other knowing looks that promise a hilarious and doomed money-making scheme in the offing. Based on their outfits, I’m going to guess that it will follow the plot of Midnight Cowboy a bit too closely for comfort.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/8/08

So … Mooch is a pedophile, an arsonist, and some kind of universe-jumping time traveller? That’s what I’m getting out of this, anyway.

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Gil Thorp, 4/7/08

And so the Frank Bolle era, which was always intended to be transitional, passes on into history, and we meet the new permanent Gil Thorp artist: Rod Whigham! Rod’s reign of terror begins, naturally, with Gil thrusting his ass at his wife as he roots through the refrigerator, desperately looking for some sweet, sweet booze to take the edge off of his Andrew Gregory-blighted existence. I heartily approve of Gil’s awesomely chiseled flattop, manly nose, and protruding Adam’s apple, along with the return of the detached hideous claw-hands (gripping the cold one in panel two), Mimi in a vest for some reason, and a bowl full of unidentifiable ovoids sitting on the kitchen table. Yes, sir, Rod, you and I are going to get along together … just fine. There’d better be some damn earrings on Coach Kaz, though.

Dick Tracy, 4/7/08

One thing I don’t approve of in the new Gil Thorp is the use of Comic Sans for the dialog text, an affliction that seems to have metastasized into Dick Tracy today. While I don’t harbor the same animosity towards the font that some do, I do think that using a font that’s available on just about everyone’s home computer makes a strip look less polished. Admittedly, it’s not my hand cramping up from writing out the completely demented dialog in Gil Thorp or Dick Tracy, but I think the handwritten text looks better.

On the other hand, having Dick Tracy’s dialog all computer-y does makes it look like it was automatically and badly translated from the Chinese, which sort of makes the strip easier to enjoy, for some reason. Also, I think IN ANOTHER ROOM may be the lamest narration box ever. If you really need to make that clear, you always could just, you know, draw it differently.

Mary Worth, 4/7/08

Oh, man, Donna Amalfi in room 305, Mary Worth is going to meddle the hell out of you. She’s probably not actually bereaved at all, but just interested in learning more about a potential new career path while she recovers from routine surgery, but that won’t stop Mary’s relentless attempts to make her realize that life is still worth living, and that inside every cloud is a silver lining, and tomorrow is another day, and blah blah blah YOU CANNOT STOP HER SHE IS A MONSTER.

Family Circus, 4/7/08

“I only know how to think and feel in terms of references to products and corporate marketing! I’m the bastard, malformed spawn of late-stage capitalism!”

Apartment 3-G, 4/7/08

Now that Frank Bolle is done with his Gil Thorp stint, he’s free to dedicate his full attention to Apartment 3-G. Today, using only Blaze’s wordless expressions, he masterfully captures what it feels like to watch some junkie grope your cousin while prattling on with a bunch of nonsense that nobody in the room actually buys.

One Big Happy, 4/7/08

“And the bodies we hid in the shed are starting to smell!”

Dennis the Menace, 4/7/08

[uncontrollable shuddering]

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Curtis, 4/3/08

In the interest of saying something nice once in a while, I will admit that today’s Curtis cracked me up. The “Curtis is obsessed with Michelle” bit is overdone, but I found his dad’s anti-cheese diatribe to be completely hilarious. “Double cheese, melted cheese, cheesy sauce, cheesy sticks, cheesy cheese! Cheese cheese cheese!! It doesn’t make sense!” I mean, sure Curtis’s non-stop mooning is annoying, Greg, but at least he isn’t going to bust a vein about cheese.

Apartment 3-G, 4/3/08

“No, Lu Ann, I believe that women are parasites! And men are junkies! Those are just the core values I was brought up with!”

Actually, Alan isn’t so upset about taking a loan from a woman as he is at taking a loan from an elementary school art teacher. That’s a sign of being pretty darn hard up, that is.

Family Circus, 4/3/08

Jeffy thinks he’ll get in good with his God if he provides Him with new worshippers. IT DOESN’T COUNT IF THEY’RE INANIMATE OBJECTS, JEFFY. YOUR RUBBER DINOSAUR HAS NO SOUL TO SAVE.

Most of these toys I could vaguely buy as things you could fold up into the kneeling position, but that clown looks way too much like a living little clown homunculus. Frankly, it scares the crap out of me.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 4/3/08

Sure, it seems like this is a joke, but since he’s testing for syphilis, it actually could work.

Beetle Bailey, 4/3/08

It seems that knowledge of “goths” has penetrated into the Walker-Browne compound. GOD HELP US ALL.