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Apartment 3-G, 8/25/12

Dude, loosen the grip: Margo isn’t leaving, you are. Or maybe not! Ever the professional, Margo tells Cooper, “I will gladly break a prior commitment to avoid spending any more time with you than absolutely necessary. But no need for thanks — that’s just the kind of service my clients have come to expect from me, even though it’s my first day in this business!”

Dick Tracy, 8/25/12

You know, I don’t think I’d eat at a sushi joint at the back of an aquarium, especially if it had really low prices. But of course Phishface is a cannibal, not an epicure: he dines to assimilate the strength of vanquished foes, so taste and freshness aren’t deal-breakers. This adventure can end only in the gruesome hook-related death of Phishface, or a grand feast of bland, stale toreshimaki.

Also, whales are fish. Told you so.

Beetle Bailey, 8/25/12

Oh, look — more golf crap!

The Lockhorns, 8/25/12

You know, for somebody who routinely gets rowdy drunk, monopolizes the hottest chicks, and picks fights, Leroy Lockhorn still gets invited to a lot of parties.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Shoe, 8/11/12

The empty benches behind Roz actually speak rather well of the bird-people of Shoe-world. Rather than coming into open court to gawk at the spectacle of a poor delusional woman attempting to seek legal relief from her own biology, they have stayed away to give her some small amount of privacy and, to the extent possible, dignity.

Apartment 3-G, 8/11/12

Wow, this guy has answer to everything, doesn’t he? “Oh, is my main reference’s number not on my resume? Just take a look at … this business card! Oh, you don’t think someone from L.A. would have heard of your tiny middlebrow art gallery? Maybe that’s because I’m … not from L.A. at all, but from New York City — the very place where your art gallery is located!” Jesus, dude, just tell her you Googled her after you saw the job ad on Craigslist.

Beetle Bailey, 8/11/12

Sarge is not what you’d call an intellectual, so it makes sense that he looks so distressed at suddenly finding himself the subject of and a participant in an experimental work of recursive meta-fiction.

Pluggers, 8/11/12

Pluggers would rather spend their declining years staring in absolute silence at a tired cultural relic of their bygone youth than interact with their families. Also, they can’t be bothered to learn how to program a DVR.

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Beetle Bailey, 8/4/12

I was going to go into this whole thing about how “Halftrack Dysfunctional Marriage Saturdays” are always the most depressing day in the comics all week, and that Mrs. Halftrack is doing a great job of gleefully pushing her husband further down his little shame spiral rather than trying to free him from it, but then I noticed that the General’s trademark neck-wattle is visible from the side and I got distracted.

Spider-Man, 8/4/12

Sorry, everybody, we’re going to have to start speaking some other language now! English hit its pinnacle with “Never suspected I booby-trapped my clown nose!” and it’s all going to be pretty much downhill from here, so let’s get out while the getting’s good.

Garfield, 8/4/12

AHH AHHH AHHH GARFIELD TURNED JON INTO A HEAD OF CABBAGE WITH FELINE DEMON MAGIC AHHHHHH