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Mary Worth, 5/28/08

Oh my goodness, could this Dr. Jeff-Mary battle of wills turn to violence? That’s what’s everyone’s asking, based on the weird slappy-slapping going in panel two of today’s Mary Worth. But I think the real answer is found in the good doctor’s face in that same panel. Look at him. He looks terrible. Like his will to live is gone. Like every ounce of his life force is being sucked out of his body by some kind of malevolent demon-beast. I think the energy lines radiating from the star-crossed lovers’ hands in panel two actually represent Mary resorting to her ultimate weapon: her ability, granted by her dark lord Satan, to damage and ultimately destroy a human’s soul with a mere touch. That’s what killed Donna Amalfi, all the better to create emotional carrion for Mary to swoop down and feast upon. And that’s what’s weakened Dr. Jeff to the point where all he can do is feebly deploy the “stop dwelling on the past!” defense. Jeff: GET OUT NOW. On your hands and knees if you have to, but don’t let her touch your skin if you want to live.

Beetle Bailey, 5/28/08

Blips and Buxley’s banter is nonsensical and annoying, but at least Gizmo, who’s wearing his headphones, doesn’t have to hear any of it. We should all be so lucky.

Crankshaft, 5/28/08

Phrase I would have rather gone my whole life without seeing in print: “Crankshaft’s body”.

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Judge Parker, 5/27/08

It’s good to see that, even after the sexification of the formerly dorky and prepubescent Sophie, there’s still one constant in her personality: the obvious intelligence gap between her and her parents, and the sense of disgust it instills in her. I love her look of sneering contempt in the second panel. “Jeez, my mother, the accidental dope fiend. LOOO-SER!”

Beetle Bailey, 5/27/08

Thank God World War II is over; if every movie depicting that conflict I’ve ever seen is accurate, at some point Killer would have gotten separated from his unit (presumably after sneaking off to romance some French ladies, or perhaps some French trees). Making his way back to American lines, he would have been confronted by unfamiliar infantrymen who would have demanded that he prove his Yankee status by the one surefire method available: by naming the winners of the past few World Series. The part of his brain normally dedicated to sports trivia having been long been redeployed to work on the arts of seduction, he’d be unable to answer, and would no doubt be summarily executed as a Nazi spy.

Dennis the Menace, 5/27/08

That apple is poisoned, obviously.

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Mark Trail, 5/21/08

Why do we tolerate Mark Trail’s inane dialog and nonsensical plots? For the brief and hilarious outbreaks of violence, of course, and today’s is a doozy. Mark kicking in the petnappers’ door so hard that it bends while apologizing (to the door, apparently) for his entrance not being as dramatic as he intended could be the greatest combination of vigilantism and almost-but-not-quite-idiomatic English since “You won’t be releasing any more birds!” Tomorrow we should could get some important questions answered, such as: Will Mark punch a woman? And are his fists powerful enough to separate a man from his ponytail?

Today’s action is made especially hilarious by Mark’s reedy, pipe-cleaner like legs and tiny feet. It appears that the terrible limb-wasting disease that has already ravaged Rusty is beginning to spread throughout the Trails’ Lost Forest compound.

Ziggy, 5/21/08

Oh, yes, ha ha, it was all very funny when Ziggy got e-mail from his toilet, but today we see that this was only part of a larger crisis in the Ziggyverse. Apparently our hapless gnome-like protagonist is beginning to notice the computerized functionality that lies behind all the seemingly ordinary aspects of his world — and it’s all beginning to go awry. This can only mean one thing: The Matrix has finally come to the top of the Netflix queue over at Ziggy central.

Also, if anyone can tell me why the normally pantsless Ziggy has decided that going to beach would be a good occasion for covering up his nether bits, I’d love to hear it. But if you have a theory as to where his nipples went, you can just keep it yourself.

Judge Parker, 5/21/08

So, Legless Steve spent weeks brooding about possible terrorist threats to his life, only to see them neutralized in about thirty seconds by his feisty, miniskirted legal secretary. Meanwhile, Abbey spent longer than it even bears thinking about harboring suspicions about her neighbors, even engaging in some cut-rate derring-do to spy on them, only to have them found out and apprehended off-screen, by someone else. Judge Parker seems determined to challenge Spider-Man in the Least Satisfying Dramatic Tension Resolution Olympics.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/21/08

No, “incited” isn’t an adorable malapropism. There’s an angry, torch-wielding mob just off-panel. You’re lucky you can’t read, Merrie; it sure wouldn’t be “just another book” to you then.

Beetle Bailey, 5/21/08

Oh, General Halftrack! Your tales of your emotionally crushing marriage are amusing and all, but you and I both know that you’re just hung over. Or possibly still drunk.