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Pluggers, 1/18/12

Today I said to my wife the words that any woman longs to hear: “Honey, can you come in here and explain Pluggers to me?” Her take was that pluggers don’t know what an “app” is and assume that it’s derived directly from the word “apply,” and that therefore “applying” whipped topping (yes, obviously “topping,” not elitist whipped cream, what are you, some kind of fancy ooh-la-la gourmet French person) to a pie is an “app.” This makes at least as much sense than my own interpretation, which was “A plugger’s favorite app is eatin’ pie, or maybe just spraying wipped topping straight down their beak-mouths.” Which doesn’t really mean much of anything, but seriously, look at this panel, what the hell.

Gil Thorp, 1/18/12

Boy, Coach Kaz is all dressed up and being nice to everybody, which probably means that a break-up is in the offing. “Welp, good game, kids, but I’m leaving forever to take up my new job as an FBI agent in 1964.”

Luann, 1/18/12

Hey, remember, like, a month ago, when having TJ work for Ann Eiffel seemed like it would be an awesome idea? Well, we changed our mind, so that won’t be happening anymore. Don’t worry, we’ve long established that TJ has no need for a job for his income, so there are absolutely no consequences involved in today’s actions, which is an important element of drama.

B.C., 1/18/12

I’m always vaguely amused that B.C.’s ants are used as the players in various generic domestic melodramas. But they’re still ants! Ants who could be devoured by a predator at any time! I’m not sure if the surviving ant spouse means that the departing ant was appreciated for its nutritive qualities, or that it will at last find unconditional love in the chitinous bosom of some kind of ant-God in ant-heaven, but either way it’s all pretty grim.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/18/12

For a long time Rex has been losing badly to Sam Driver in the competition to see which smug, sexually repressed dick in a Woody Wilson-penned soap strip can have become more financially comfortable due to no real work or merit on his part. But maybe today is the day when the tide begins to turn!

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B.C., 12/16/11

A “bachelor party,” when brought up within a modern pseudo-humorous narrative, is invariably a euphemism for tawdry, regrettable erotic escapades. (This is not always true in real life; I’m sure yours was classy and not at all actionable.) Thus, I’m going to go ahead and assume that the bachelor ant here is planning on saddling this grasshopper as a prelude to some gross inter-species insect sex stuff. Whatever, let him have his fun, ants are one of those species where the males die right after mating, right? I was going to look that up, but I’ve never liked the ant characters in B.C. so I’m just going to go ahead and assume that it’s true.

Crankshaft, 12/16/11

I’m not sure why, but I find the retreating back of our Christmas Tree proprietor deeply unnerving. Maybe it’s the look of genuine horror on Crankshaft’s granddaughters face. It seems like he’s slowly and deliberately going to fetch his ax, and then, as predicted, he’s going take his payment in limbs.

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Mary Worth, 11/24/11

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! What are you thankful for? Are you thankful that nobody at your Thanksgiving Dinner approached the table with eyes wide as dinner plates, surrounded by an eerie glow, bearing a tray full of brown … disk-like … things? Seriously, what the hell are those? Is that a teacup at the front right corner? Did Mary Worth just deep-fry a tea cup, for Thanksgiving dinner?

B.C., 11/24/11

Oh, also, are you thankful that your Thanksgiving dinner didn’t degenerate into insects talking about carnage and horror and feces?

Funky Winkerbean, 11/24/11

And if you want lessons in how not to be thankful, you can get them from Funky, obviously. “Oh, you were going to give away a trip to see one of the most breathtaking sights in the world? Whatever, people want to see dudes dressed up as maniacally grinning rats and/or pantsless ducks.”