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Mary Worth, 6/26/17

So Katie did not let Esme fall into the sea, but instead heaved her back up onto the deck, causing the two of them to instantly form the sort of bond that only a genuine brush with death can bring about. They cling together in the rain, weeping, knowing that things have forever changed and their previous fight seems petty in the face of the awful event they just barely avoided. Meanwhile, in the ship’s photo gallery… “Hello, Mary! Do you like looking at pictures? I love it! Ha ha, look, it’s like the real people on the boat, but smaller!”

Beetle Bailey, 6/26/17

Ha ha, it’s funny because Sarge beats up Beetle to make him do what he wants!

Dennis the Menace, 6/26/17

Ha ha, it’s funny because Mrs. Wilson doesn’t love Mr. Wilson and hasn’t for years!

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Beetle Bailey, 6/25/17

This is an example of a strip that only really works with the top row of throwaway panels — so called because they’re often excised by papers looking to cram more into their comics section — in place. Without them, this is just a basic Beetle Bailey strip about General Halftrack giving a long, boring speech about himself. But those first panels drive home a pair of exquisite yet offsetting tragedies: that Halftrack, desperate for affirmation and yet wholly unloved, has arranged this ceremony for himself; and that Halftrack’s creeping dementia has caused him to forget that he’s done so, which might allow him to feel briefly good about his life during the ceremony. I assume that the award is small scale model of the pyramid in which he will soon be buried, along with his staff.

Dennis the Menace, 6/25/17

Wow, if I had to guess which Sunday strip was going to peel away our assumptions and get us talking about the hidden nature of uncompensated domestic labor, Dennis the Menace would not have been high on the list.

Judge Parker, 6/25/17

“You always ask that five minutes before it’s done. And you always ask me, as if I’m making dinner! Our paid servant is doing all the work! She’s right there, you could at least make eye contact with her.”

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Mary Worth, 6/6/17

I was going to make some snide comment about how mariachi music is from Jalisco, on Mexico’s Pacific coast, and totally out of place here in the Yucatan, but heck, you can hire a mariachi band for your wedding in Tulum! You can hire a jug band in Staten Island! Cultures are becoming more and more homogenous as people become more mobile, and as global elite tourism demands to be catered to by specific forms of cultural output! Mary and Toby had better get deeply margarita-drunk while wearing sombreros by the end of this storyline, is what I’m trying to say. Meanwhile, it’s sad that Haiti’s rich cultural heritage has was ignored last month in favor of their unfortunate history of accidental bathroom imprisonment.

Beetle Bailey, 6/6/17

What with the end of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, the idea that two men in the military might be involved in a secret S&M relationship no longer holds a transgressive thrill. That’s why Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC has moved on to “jell-offing,” a sexual fetish where someone can only achieve orgasm if his or her genitals are nestled in a slowly curdling blob of delicious JELL-O® brand pudding.

Blondie, 6/6/17

It’s pretty sad that Blondie had to hire top-notch Web designers and food photographers to create an elaborate website like this for her catering business. Taking photos of each and every single dish she offers definitely has diminishing returns as advertising, but I guess it makes her feel better to know that, if Dagwood’s going to spend his time at work masturbating to food pornography, at least he’s masturbating to her food pornography.

Crock, 6/6/17

It’s kind of odd that Otis, who is one of the more frequently used members of Crock’s cast of characters, has been reduced to a tiny, glowering, wordless gnome-thing in this strip. But I guess it’s also odd that he had “Show and Tell” at school and didn’t bring in his best friend, a talking bird who feasts on the rotting flesh of the dead.

Shoe, 6/6/17

nggnnngghghggngn

THERE IS NO HALL

YOU’RE IN A SINGLE ROOM INSIDE A TREE TRUNK

WHY DON’T YOU SAY “DOWN THE BRANCH” OR SOMETHING

JUST ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THEY’RE BIRDS LIVING FULL-TIME IN TREES FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE

GOD DAMN IT