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Beetle Bailey, 1/17/20

Congrats to Beetle Bailey on more or less understanding an aspect of modern life! Just a few little corrections:

• The term you’re sort of botching is “social media star,” though honestly what you’d really want to say is “influencer.”
• Despite the fact that King Features has 1,067 Instagram followers, Beetle, even with three times that many, would be several orders of magnitude away from being a true influencer.
• Instagram wouldn’t really be Beetle’s platform, anyway; where he’d do gangbusters would be with his own ASMR YouTube channel.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/17/20

Finally, Rex sees an opportunity to nail down exactly how old his wife is, something he’s been trying to figure out without just breaking down and asking her directly for years now. But June’s not going to let him get out of it this easily.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/12/20

FRIDAY: Oh my gosh! Does June’s weird pseudo-relative have a terrible alcohol problem??? Could be a juicy storyline here!!!

SUNDAY: Enh, never mind, she’s just old and sleepy and messy and likes hard-to-find soda! Whew, drama over, let’s all take an unplanned nap, shall we?

Blondie, 1/12/20

Dagwood claims to be uncomfortable, but do you notice how his naturally bent knees fit perfectly into the length of his couch? Could this be an evolutionary adaptation in Homo bumsteadus?

Beetle Bailey, 1/12/20

Ha ha, it’s funny because Sarge will take out his frustrations on his subordinates, violently!

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Beetle Bailey, 1/3/20

My favorite person in this little scene is the pizza delivery guy, walking out the door of the barracks with his face utterly without emotional affect. He’s seen how these things go down, how too many families and communities see the sudden arrival of pizza as a panacea, a quick fix to conflict and emotional struggle, only to be quickly disappointed when the true underlying issues aren’t addressed. He’s not interested in sticking around to watch it all play out. He’s got a lot more pizzas to deliver tonight.

Hi and Lois, 1/3/20

The scene: Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC’s writers’ room. The goal: Defeating Marvin, the comic strip about a perpetually shitting baby that is wildly, unaccountably popular. It is very late. The clock is ticking. Tomorrow’s deadline is near. Finally, from the back of the room comes a quiet, hesitant voice: “Vomit?”