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Blondie, 6/13/09

Oh look, it’s yet another Blondie where I’m left wondering exactly how I’m supposed to assemble the various elements into a pleasing joke-like whole. Does Dagwood refer to the order-taker as a “clown” because of the semi-conscious association resulting from his giving his order into a molded-plastic clown head? Are we supposed to think that Dagwood is so dumb that he believes that a literal clown is taking his order? Or is a literal clown in fact taking his order — some poor bastard with clowning experience who was willing to answer any job ad, any job ad at all, only to find himself shackled and put into some kind of stocks and forced to hawk greasy food to folks in their cars? It would certainly explain the desperation he exhibits at being unable to move sufficient quantities of product.

I have already expressed my admiration for Clown Burger’s “Say — then pay!” motto. Few corporations are as willing to explain how a simple economic transaction works on such a basic level: “First you must tell us what it is you wish to purchase, through a speech act of some sort; then you must supply some medium of exchange to us.”

Family Circus, 6/13/09

Uh-oh, it looks like Billy has discovered philosophy, or perhaps has been listening in to the conversations of stoned college students! Either way, the blank, expressionless faces of his siblings shows just how well fancy brain-thinkin’ goes down in the Keane Kompound. A swift but brutal beating will soon teach him that the only kind of utterances permitted here are prayers or adorable malapropisms.

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Blondie, 6/10/09

We all know that Dithers Enterprises is a terrifying corporate police state, but I find today’s installment of Panopticon Follies to be a little much. What’s most disturbing is the punchline, which revolves not around the fact that Dagwood is being tracked like a dangerous criminal or an experimental animal, but that he spent the bulk of his work day desperately trying to wriggle out of his ankle bracelet rather than slaving away on whatever slave-labor tasks Dithers has set for him. The only way it could be more unsettling would be if Blondie offered him a foot-long sandwich and he pointed to his bloody ankle-stump and said “No need, honey! I ate at the office!”

Funky Winkerbean, 6/10/09

The best part about this Funky Winkerbean is that it’s only Wednesday, so we’re only halfway through what’s presumably a week-long run of “How grim can it get up here on the roof?” Hopefully Saturday will consist of two silent panels of the empty lawn chairs, then a bird’s eye view of the two tiny figures on the asphalt below, limbs twisted and necks snapped.

Mary Worth, 6/10/09

Here’s a fun little game: try to imagine which sex act Ian and Toby refer to as “riding the waves.” Now try to unimagine it. Ha ha! Bet you can’t!

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Beetle Bailey, 5/28/09

Beetle is obviously very shy about revealing the most intimate part of his anatomy: the top of his head.

Blondie, 5/28/09

Ha ha, Dagwood’s fellow carpooler is traumatized by his layoff and can’t think of anything to do with his life other than go through the motions of going to work! He’ll probably head down to his old office building and loiter around there for a while, then shoot himself in the parking lot just when everyone is walking out to their cars.

Mary Worth, 5/29/09

“Yes, Adrian deserves a good man … life has a strange way of working out … all’s well that ends well … love conquers all … look, Jeff, if you don’t stop going on and on about this twerp and his dead dad, I’m going to strangle you with this cravat, I swear to God.”