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Archie, 10/12/12

Let’s forget for the moment Reggie’s absurd claim that his laptop has petabytes of storage, and the fact that he and Jughead are having one of those hilarious “haha we are misunderstanding each other’s use of polysemous phrases, with hilarious results!” conversations that no humans ever have, ever, or even that Jughead might be vaguely implying that his beloved dog is a cyborg replicant. Let’s instead enjoy the glory and majesty of Reggie’s sweater, which is the ’90sest sweater that ever lit a candle at a spontaneous vigil that formed on the quad the night Kurt Cobain committed suicide and then later got a “Rachel” haircut. Admire it in all its Clinton-era glory!

Phantom, 10/12/12

Look, I’m the guy who will bawl uncontrollably in a movie whenever an adorable animal is killed or injured in the most transparently emotionally manipulative fashion you can name, but … hey Phantom, I know you’re hurting, but you’re being kind of a dick here? “HE WAS TRYING TO PROTECT BOTH OF US, OKAY? BUT MOSTLY ME, OKAY? BACK OFF, MAN, HE’S MY LOYAL WOLF-DOG!!!”

Funky Winkerbean, 10/12/12

“Yeah, my first wife sure scarred me emotionally and left me the morbid hate-sack I am today! How about your first wife? Oh, right, dropped dead. Hey, look, I have a whole pizza here, let’s punish our colons with it!”

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/6/12

Everyone’s face in the second panel is pretty much exactly what you’d expect from a scene in which three desperately poor people are about to eat a canned bean dinner in a dilapidated shack in an isolated rural hamlet. Where do you suppose Snuffy is? Jail, again? Do you think they’re sadder that one of their family members can’t be there, or happier because he’s a useless criminal and his absence means more beans for them?

Archie, 10/6/12

Notice that by the time Archie blows that whistle in the first panel, Moose is just standing around looking sheepish. Despite Archie’s ostensible attempts to impose some sanity on this “friendly” game of touch football, he knows better than to interrupt Moose when he’s in the midst of whatever violent whole-body fugue state resulted in the terrible injuries revealed in panel three.

Pluggers, 10/6/12

Speaking of looking sheepish, normally I find the faces of the various man-animal abominations who inhabit Pluggers to be fairly inexpressive, but both father and cub here are wearing pretty piercing looks of shame — poo-based shame.

Herb and Jamaal, 10/6/12

Are rising energy prices starting to degrade vital government services? Or is Jamaal just letting some guy’s house burn down, for fun?

Gil Thorp, 10/6/12

If you’ve ever wondered what it would like to perch on the belt of a guy who is really, really psyched about the terrible micksploitation slogan he’s come up with for a high school football team, and is also wearing a waistcoat for some reason, then today’s Gil Thorp is for you, my friend.

Beetle Bailey, 10/6/12

How is it that whoever wrote this cartoon doesn’t cry themselves to sleep every night, just like Mrs. Halftrack? This is probably the saddest thing I’ve seen in the comics in months, and I read Funky Winkerbean daily.

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Archie, 9/28/12

Rarely have I ever wanted to know more about the backstory to a two-panel Archie newspaper comic rerun from the mid-to-late ’90s than I do today. Based on this snooty waiter’s fancy outfit, I’m assuming our Riverdale teens have decided to skip Pop’s today and instead test their culinary palette at some upscale dining establishment. (They’re clearly so used to eating at the diner counter that they’ve gathered awkwardly on one side of the table.) But why? And now that they’re here, do they feel underdressed or otherwise class-anxious, or are they oblivious to the socioeconomic factors at play? And then of course there’s the question of whether Chez Elitist has a fancy-food buffet at fancy-food prices, or if the waiter is just attempting to get Archie and the gang to finally feel shame by shoving their proletarian desires to gorge themselves in their faces, hoping they’ll slink out without further embarrassing the swells.

Apartment 3-G, 9/28/12

I’m really sorry I didn’t discuss yesterday’s Apartment 3-G, in which Lu Ann spent a languorous bubble bath thinking about her date with Greg, because if I had I’d have more context for talking about how very rapidly this strip is turning into a porno — specifically, if Evan’s stiff, awkward posture is any indication, a porno acted out entirely by Barbie and Ken dolls wearing the least interesting outfits that Mattel sells.

Family Circus, 9/28/12

“I glad God hasn’t disappeared in a puff of my own doubts yet, leaving me bereft of moral purpose and unable to come up with any course of action beyond one that indulges my most immediate and basest desires!”

Luann, 9/28/12

Guys, what do you suppose it’s like, spending time and effort to draw a sexy teenage girl, lavishing loving detail on her revealing clothes and her cleavage and crotch, then creating a storyline for her that aims to prove that she deserves ill treatment because of the sexy way you drew her? Probably pretty exhausting, right?