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Apartment 3-G, 11/27/07

I’d love to believe that the narration boxes in today’s Apartment 3-G are setting up some kind of tension between presentation and the underlying reality. I’d love to believe that Neil is practically wrenching Tommie’s arm out of its socket and coming close to hurling her on the floor, but in his self-centered way honestly believes that he’s executing a “graceful spin” and a “sweeping dip” — and that Tommie, despite her fears about a dislocated shoulder, is telling herself that she’s being spun gracefully and dipped sweepingly because she wants romance with Neil so badly. I want to believe all that because that would be kind of interesting. But I think this strip is just kind of poorly drawn.

Judge Parker, 11/27/07

I’m sorry, your majesty! Do you think that we down here at the county commission have nothing better to do than to show up at the front gate of all the massive compounds within earshot of every general aviation airstrip we approve? We’ve got Biff Dickens’ campaign donations to count, you know! Why can’t you read the 8-point-font ads in the Notices section of the newspaper to find out about the public meetings on the topic like everyone else?

Hmm … after having written that, I’m not entirely sure who exactly my vitriol is aimed at. I guess that’s because I kind of find everyone in this strip irritating.

Mark Trail, 11/27/07

Meanwhile, someone has framed Johnny Malotte — for murder! Bull Malone’s been shot — but by whom? Someone fired Johnny’s rifle — but who? Is Paul making up for his own perceived failings the only way he knows how? Has Bull faked his own death? Personally, I think the full moon behind Johnny offers a clue — he’s really a werewolf who shot Bull in an animalistic rage when he transformed, leaving him with no memory of the crime when he returned to human status! Sure, the theory needs work — probably a werewolf would have just ripped out Bull’s throat rather than fiddling with some firearm — but I mostly just want to see a Sunday strip about werewolves.

Family Circus, 11/27/07

Frosted flakes scattered across the tabletop, limp and soggy with Jeffy spittle, slowly hardening until they’ll be impossible to scrape off the formica = MOST DISGUSTING IMAGE I’VE HAD TO GRAPPLE WITH TODAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH, COMICS.

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Panel from Apartment 3-G, 11/18/07

“Well, not Hollywood per se; more like the San Fernando Valley. But close enough, right?”

One of the many joys of reading Apartment 3-G is seeing the art make all the characters squarer than their actions would suggest by about a factor of ten. In what other universe would the dude at the right — with his Brylcreemed hair, dorktastic mustache, and bright blue sweater over a white dress shirt and brown tie — be a heartbreaking, lothario bad boy?

Panels from Curtis, 11/18/07

I’m sure it’s lucrative work, but I’m really glad I’m not Curtis’ court-appointed psychologist.

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/18/07

Yes, Niki … exciting … more … to … God, I can’t even type this anymore.

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Gil Thorp, 11/18/07

I know that, what with snoopy English teacher Bob Roth listening from the next room, this is supposed to be some kind of “test”, where if Cully agrees to be Gil’s instrument of death it will prove that the he’s rotten to the core, but if he says no it goes to show that he’s basically a good kid and who cares if he and his sketchy friends steal a TV or six, amiright? But wouldn’t it be great if Gil was dead serious, and his whole purpose in recruiting this hulking, troubled teen onto his football team was to silence the Milford athletic department’s most strident media critic? I imagine that Gil Googled Cully’s criminal history and his mind lit up with lovely images of Marty’s neck snapping from one fallaway slam too many. This would also explain why Marty has been uncharacteristically reticent to criticize Coach Thorp’s leadership of a 1-4 team whose standout player is a kid with one leg — he knows that with a murderer on the team, he’s marked for death. But even his silence won’t save him now, as there’s too much bad blood between them! As for why Gil would be allowing Bob Roth to listen to the hit being ordered in this scenario … well, maybe Gil thinks that in doing so he’s implicating Bob in the crime? No, it doesn’t make sense, but then again Gil isn’t very smart.

Apartment 3-G, 11/18/07

In case you’re baffled by this pile-up in the hallway, Neil is the caddish director of Gina’s play who cruelly toyed with Tommie’s affections (among other things) at the cast party, Gina was, I swear, being set up to be the Professor’s girlfriend, and Gina’s hair somehow even looks worse than it did before.

Archie, 11/18/07

Why has the living room suddenly been plunged into inky blackness in the final panel? Has the AJGLU-3000 discovered German expressionist film? Does the darkness represent that bleak state of Mr. Andrews’s soul, as he contemplates the gulf that lies between him and his son, and his own part in creating it? Or was “Hey, Dad, do you want me to leave the light on in here?” the question that Archie planned to ask?