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Garfield, 11/10/07

OK, Garfield, I thought you and I had a deal. An unspoken agreement. But now that you’ve gone and broken it, I think I need to spell out the terms.

Here’s how it works:

• I continue to read you, despite the fact that you’ve been built around the same half-dozen or so lame jokes for as long as I can remember and are a soulless corporate shell of a comic designed to sell adorable plush dolls and vaguely sarcastic greeting cards.
• And in return, all I ask is that you don’t make me look up any words in the God-damned dictionary.

Don’t let this happen again.

Mark Trail, 11/10/07

Ah, Johnny, you know that there’s no problem that can’t be solved in the high-stakes world of boutique, full-service wilderness tourism that can’t be solved with a double-barreled shotgun. As Bull Malone lies gut-shot and squirming in front of their tent, it’s going to dawn on those big-city businessmen that they’ve gotten way more than they bargained for. Somebody’s going to be getting a terrible review on TripAdvisor.com, I tell you what.

Beetle Bailey, 11/10/07

Today in Beetle Bailey: When second-generation artists rediscover characters created when the original artists read the Cliff Notes to Catch-22!

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Argh, those Sunday strips are so big! Let’s take them on in bite-sized chunks.

Apartment 3-G, 10/28/07

Yes, Ruby, and if your mad cosmetological skills don’t land you a hairdressing job, your mad unbearably-white-deployment-of-verging-on-outdated-slang skills should land you a role in that new off-Broadway production, Diff’rent Strokes: The Musical.

Panel from Beetle Bailey, 10/28/07

“I wish you got more to give me, Beetle. I wish you would just turn around and say ‘I love you, Sarge,’ never mind the consequences. But you don’t got the guts. So I’ll just stand here with my hand on your shoulder, your tight-football-pants-clad butt just inches from my crotch, for a few minutes. That’s all I’ve got. I wish I got more.”

Portion of the Family Circus, 10/28/07

I’m not sure which is more disturbing: the thought that daddy’s work pants are tattered and stained with cut-rate gin and urine, or the thought that daddy’s work pants are bright pink and end just below the bottom of his butt cheeks.

Panel from Mark Trail, 10/28/07

“Normal humans have nothing to fear from our friends the owls! However, horrible mutants — like this freakish, big-foreheaded specimen here — will be subject to vicious, merciless owl attacks. Remember, owls are your town’s first line of defense against mutant incursions!”

Panel from Mary Worth, 10/28/07

I guess those motion lines around Dr. Jeff’s head are supposed to indicate that he’s taking a deep, hearty quaff of whatever hard liquor he’s surreptitiously poured into his coffee mug, but they look more like bobble lines of shock and horror to me. Combined with his wide eyes, I imagine he’s thinking, “Wait, it isn’t? God damn it, woman, you know that if my son’s involved in this stupid comic strip, I need to show up in it every once in a while as well. Why can’t the plots involve Chinbeard and his trophy wife for once? Who are they sleeping with to get out of their contractually mandated number of appearances in this nightmare?”

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Archie, 10/22/07

Dear Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000: I realize that placing a character’s name in apposition with a role that character plays or a task he fulfills is a quick and efficient means to provide information needed to set up a joke. However, this grammatical structure is almost never used in actual conversation between humans, and it comes across as incredibly stilted. I don’t blame you for the mistake, as you do not actually communicate verbally with biological life-forms, but I would like you to file this away in your humor-generation ruleset.

Also, jokes about text messaging are not funny, and haven’t been since the end of a relatively brief window in the late 1990s. I can understand why the notion that transmitting data electronically could cause physical pain might seem incongruous and amusing to you, but trust me on this one.

Beetle Bailey, 10/22/07

Oh, this is just about the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you believe it, Beetle! Every blow from Sarge’s fists is really a kiss that he can’t allow himself to give you.

Dennis the Menace, 10/22/07

“Especially since we put all those cameras in the basement and then locked him down there. Ha ha, look! He’s clawing at the door again!”