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Mark Trail, 1/9/12

There’s so much I have to learn about the dog-training biz, apparently. For instance, having a hunting dog that can see is crucial to the whole operation, somehow! It draws in the customers! Is a blind dog considered a bad omen? When people bring their cockapoo or Havanese or whatever down to Tommy’s Dog Training Service to make sure it doesn’t poop on the rug any more or try to eat the baby, do they see ol’ blind Butch and think “Jeez, Tommy trains his dogs to be blind, that’s what he trains them to do,” and then head elsewhere? Truly Mark is the only one who can help Tommy finally realize his dog-training dream and avoid gainful employment once and for all.

Gil Thorp, 1/9/12

Huh, so it turns out that last week’s off-hand “Sheilas” wasn’t a misguided attempt at hip slang but was actually supposed to indicate that Ransom Hale (wait, what?) hails from the Antipodes. Do people from New Zealand actually say “Sheilas”? Do people from Australia actually say this? Feel free to discuss that amongst ourselves while I try to figure out which of these young ladies is about to have a picture of Leonardo DiCaprio’s frozen corpse tattooed onto her lower back.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/9/12

Never mind the hilarious golf joke: I’m trying to figure out why exactly Truman Capote is impersonating a substitute rural doctor.

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/27/11

The throwaway panels of today’s Snuffy Smith shed light on a perennial interest of mine and nobody else’s: the economy of Hootin’ Holler. Though I’ve never spotted him as one of the strip’s cast of characters, apparently “Farmer Johnson” lives in this blighted hamlet, attempting to make a living from agriculture. Since the chickens and sausage he produces are invariably stolen by his parasitic neighbors, one wonders why he hasn’t pulled up stakes long ago, or at least given up working hard like a sucker.

If anything, the rest of the strip is even more unsettling, in that we learn that Snuffy, had not his neural circuits been overloaded by visions of chickeny pleasure, would have killed and devoured his hapless nephew. Jughaid’s pleas for mercy would have only registered in Snuffy’s mind as clucks as the thieving hillbilly lived out his great fantasy of eating an enormous angel-chicken. I assume the first throwaway panel depicts one of these divine fowl, which leads us to a sad question: Are chickens killed, dismembered, fried, and eaten, even in chicken heaven?

Crankshaft, 11/27/11

C’mon, Crankshaft, there’s plenty of room for another word-balloon lobe there, so why not end Ed’s musings with “…and, finally, your coffin?” The general vibe of the Funkyverse would seem to demand it. I mean, I’m assuming the family is intending to wall up their hated matriarch in that room Cask of Amontillado-style anyway.

Panel from Mary Worth, 11/27/11

We’ve had a few thousand years of YHWH trying to guide our morals, but we haven’t really taken the lessons to heart. A much crueler God will be handing down the commandments from now on.

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Gil Thorp, 11/21/11

Gil may be an incredibly crappy coach, but he’s no dummy! With his team coasting towards a winless season and the booster club in open revolt, he’s got one last chance to save his job, and he’s playing it for all it’s worth. “Sure, we may end the season with the worst record in decades, but we did help one kid with Asperger’s come out of his shell a bit and make friends. And isn’t that more important than some dumb old football game? Who’s gonna be the jerk to say that, huh? Yeah, thought so. See ya next year, when with any luck we’ll go 2-8!”

Apartment 3-G, 11/21/11

“Someone is crying her eyes out in there. It must be Lu Ann! Tommie has used advanced meditation techniques to ensure that she’s incapable of feeling anything stronger than ennui or mild anxiety, and if Margo were moved to tears, her sobs would be drowned out by the pleas for mercy from her hapless victims.”

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/21/11

Parson Tuttle is of course a notorious fraud without even the rudiments of a theological education, but based on that look of shock in panel two it appears that Parson Dickens isn’t, which will spell trouble for Hootin’ Holler’s beloved clergyman/grifter. “Tarnation, he’s callin’ a vacation a ‘sabbatical’? That’s sullyin’ the name of th’ sabbath — a violation of the fourth commandment! Welp, better gather th’ townsfolk for a good old-fashioned stonin’.”

Momma, 11/21/11

This strip would have been funnier (note that I didn’t say “funny”) if it had hinged on the contrast between Francis’ archaic CRT set and the flat-screen TVs that have pretty much been the only new televisions sold for the better part of a decade. But apparently that would require someone involved in the production of Momma to know that high-tech items like flat-screen TVs exist.