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The Phantom, 2/8/09

So the Ghost-Who-Dabbles-In-Social-Work has been dishing out some “tough love” to former city street tough Kani, which has consisted of good healthy jungle fun like sexy diaper boxing. Kani was sentenced to Bangalla’s juvenile justice system because he served as a lookout in an armed robbery; thus, I think it would be extra hilarious if the Phantom is now taking him along on a mission to steal whatever goods are in this isolated farmhouse. “What? Where do you think I get the money to keep myself in purple spandex and saddle oil and ammunition? Do you think those cone-hatted dudes are paying me? Please.”

Judge Parker, 2/8/09

Retiring Judge Parker is cowering in his basement, desperate as usual to avoid an appearance in his own namesake comic strip; presumably he’s hoping that once his son Randy has been officially handed the gavel, ensuring the continued existence of another Judge Parker, he can slip out the back door and never again be held responsible for anything that happens here. I am kind of amused by his grim expression in the final panel as he’s being told about the enormous book advance that will soon be his for no good reason. “Damn it, I wanted to know that this check was causing that bastard Cheathem real physical pain when I cashed it! Now that he’s dead and in hell … well, it’s just not the same.”

Mary Worth, 2/8/09

The idea that every single Mary Worth storyline from here on in is going to end with some dude making an incredibly awkward pass at her has filled me with so much glee that I’m willing to ignore the fact that this Olympic skating training center apparently has an occasional “free skate” period. Anyway, “Let’s just enjoy this moment of freedom on the ice” might sound like a sort-of polite way to tell Frank to shut his horny piehole, but I prefer to think of it as an invitation to cop a feel. “Remember, Frank, what happens on the ice stays on the ice!”

Hi and Lois, 2/8/09

The most pathetic aspect of Hi’s midlife crisis fantasy is not that it involves golf; it’s that it apparently centers on someone at long last calling him “mister.” The fact that he can only imagine someone calling him “mister” in a golfing context is the sad foundation on which the whole shameful thing rests.

Blondie, 2/8/09

“They’ve decided to worship you as a god, and are constructing a monstrous idol in our yard! Isn’t it adorable?”

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 2/8/09

It appears that, in today’s final panel, Margo has uttered the ultimate Margo-ism. Now if she’s running short on time but needs to assert herself, she can just quickly refer everyone to this panel before moving on to her next victim.

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Dick Tracy, 1/29/09

Dick Tracy is well known for such stunningly pointless narration box scene setting as “In another room” and “Elsewhere,” but I have to admit to being somewhat intrigued by “Much later”. By using qualitative, not quantitative, terms, the strip sets up an intriguing narrative tension about exactly when the third panel is supposed to be taking place. Are we meant to read it as “Much later, after Dick’s gruesome, nine-hour ‘enhanced’ interrogation of Professor Noll, at the end of which he described the secret project he was working on, confessed to a number of crimes he couldn’t have possibly committed, and then was shot ‘trying to escape’?” Or as “Much later, after the human race has evolved into a species with no pupils, shiny black skulls, truncated, pointy breasts, and a tendency to name people things like ‘Driller’?”

Gil Thorp, 1/29/09

Of course, Central has an incredible home-court advantage. Playing basketball on a court with four-foot ceilings does limit the number of home fans who can come and cheer, but for teams unused to such conditions, the stooped, simian lope that they make necessary can be a real distraction — one that the permanently hunched over Bobcats can exploit.

I’m not sure what the two clowns standing behind Marty are up to — trying to get their faces on the radio? That’s not how it works, guys — but I sincerely hope that the blond-haired glasses-wearing dude is making the universal jerk-off motion with his left hand, as he appears to be.

Blondie, 1/29/05

I strongly disapprove of the set-up for this joke. Dagwood can’t possibly be much older than, say, 50; obviously anyone born after 1960, when asked by a child if some common, century-old device were available during their childhood, would respond not with “Yes, and yet I’m also going to offer a description of an archaic technology that will make me seem even more wizened to you,” but with “JESUS CHRIST ELMO HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM,” followed by some serious soul-searching and a series of inappropriate and regrettable music and clothing purchases.

Mary Worth, 1/29/09

“Yes, before I came to visit you, I never imagined the hatred and despair that lurked just beneath the besequined surface of this beautiful sport! Now every time I see a coach talking to a skater on TV, all I’ll be able to think of will be the many ways that each has been able to wound and disappoint the other over the years. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish my glass of blood as soon as possible and get the hell out of here before this little papered-over truce you’ve established inevitably collapses in tears and acrimony and slashing blades.”

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Blondie, 1/23/09

I have to admit that I’m so charmed by Dagwood’s stunningly bizarre parking spot sign that I’m willing to forgive the fact that it completely ignores his long-established carpool. Not only does it declare his love for impossibly large sandwiches to the literate and illiterate alike, it also fails to indicate in any way that the parking spot it sits in front of is reserved for anyone in particular. Still, I’d be hesitant to park there, as it’s clearly the work of a madman. An extremely hungry madman.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/23/09

Whereas the gals, they’re talking about the fellers they met in their youth once, the ones that weren’t their cousins! Haw haw!

This strip seems to indicate that the book Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus would do well in this community, if not for the fact that speaking aloud the names of the terrifying demon-stars that move through the sky will get you burned at the stake there. The strip also seems to promise a series of gags lifted entirely from episodes of An Evening At The Improv circa 1989, such as the different driving habits of black dudes and white dudes and the unpalatability of airline food, but mention of flying machines and non-whites will also get you burned at the stake.

Beetle Bailey, 1/23/09

Gosh, Sarge, I’m not sure happy is how your stomach will feel about a box of matzo, a bowl of eggs, and a bottle of soy sauce.

Herb and Jamaal, 1/23/09

Say, remember when Herb and Jamaal ran this exact same strip two months ago? Remember how it wasn’t funny then, either?