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Herb and Jamaal, 6/2/07

In an attempt to put a fresh and non-copyright-infringing spin on a joke that’s been cracking ’em up on the message boards outside churches around the country since 1998, today’s Herb and Jamaal ties itself into serious theological and philosophical knots. “Knee mail” (i.e., prayer) is of course the preferred method of making contact with a deity of the type that most religious folks today believe in: a God of pure spirit who exists on a plane separate from the physical reality we inhabit. Thus, Rev. Croom’s answer to Herb’s question (about which he looks rather disgustingly satisfied, incidentally) doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. We already talk to the spiritual God via knee mail, rev; Herb wants to know how to make contact with a hypothetical physical God. My suggestion: poke Him with a stick. Not too hard, though.

Blondie, 6/2/07

If I were a clerk at The Book Barn (or, well, you can’t see the “k”, so it might be The Boon Barn or The Boob Barn, but never mind that) and a customer brought me a copy of every mid-sized book in the store with a cover the same exact shade of blue, my first response would be less “You sure enjoy all kinds of different books” and more “Sir, I know that obsessive-compulsive disorder can be a life-afflicting problem, but the first step is to admit that you need help.”

Beetle Bailey, 6/2/07

So … does this strip make any sense to anyone, anywhere, at any level of familiarity with golf? I thought I had it — Gen. Halftrack is about to be caught cheating by Lt. Flap and Hitler-Mustached Mid-Level Staff Officer Whose Name And Rank I Forget Or Perhaps Never Actually Knew as they Keep On Truckin’ towards the reader, and Lt. Fuzz is demanding advancement in rank in exchange for his silence. But if Flap and H-MM-LSOWNARIFOPNAK have already seen the general’s perfidy, then Lt. Fuzz’s collaboration won’t help matters; if they haven’t, then their presence in the second panel, which seems to be the incentive for Fuzz’s sudden blackmail bid, is irrelevant. O wiser heads on the Internet, answer this conundrum!

A more philosophical question: Why are these two golfing together in the first place? Usually Halftrack is willing to humiliate himself by hiding under his desk or hanging out the window just to avoid a few loathsome moments spent with his subordinate. Surely any golf outing with the two of them would result in the younger man being brained by a club somewhere on the front nine.

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Blondie, 5/31/07

I think panel two may be the first time in living memory that the art in Blondie has actually charmed me. Naturally, it consists of Dagwood transforming into some kind of horrible flame-tongued demon. The third panel, with his eyelids heavy and his antennae unravelling, is nice too.

Amusing (and totally in character) is the fact that compulsive eater Dagwood dives into his chili without waiting to find out what its rating is. It’s just one more data point about whatever it is he’s going to pour down his insatiable gullet.

One Big Happy, 5/31/07

I don’t pretend to understand the slang that the kids use today, but I’m guessing that “bustin’ up with” is some kind of code for terminating a romantic liaison. This kind of age- and good-taste-inappropriate imagined relationship has precedent with Joe. At least today’s instance is less traumatic than this, or (shudder) this.

I also note that Joe and Ruthie’s mother appears to be sending a bottle of booze as a gift to their teachers, which indicates a very clear-sighted understanding of what her kids are like.

Pluggers, 5/31/07

This is why 35-year-old male pluggers spend so much time around high schools. And why female pluggers tend to die alone after falling and breaking a hip.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 5/31/07

And here’s faithful reader Trotzenbonnie’s second TDIET since Monday! She’s managed to provide this feature with roughly 28 percent of its material this week. I have to say that I’m always a little disturbed by the common TDIET combo, seen in the top panel, of super-angry face and open palm — it always looks like a lot of slapping’s about to happen. But I admit to giggling at “blows his toupee.”

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/25/07

Well, well, well, it looks like “the nanny” had what it took to be a heartless, Machiavellian corporate schemer all along! Just seconds after humiliating her stepson in front of the motley cast of characters on Avery International’s board, with a single regal wave of her hand she puts the smack down on Peter the Perhaps Too Helpful Chauffeur, who was probably thinking that he’d soon find himself Peter the General Counsel or Peter the CFO for his pains. The only remaining obstacle left in the path of her total triumph would be the poor missing Milton Avery himself, and I think that perhaps that search and rescue effort might find itself called off even after the weather improves — we don’t want to be a burden on the British taxpayer, you see, not with the National Health being in such a poor state. If the plane itself is never found, of course, then nobody will be the wiser about certain … modifications to its engines that were implemented just before its final, fatal flight.

I wouldn’t have been implying any of this before today, but then I saw the third panel here, in which Heather gives us a look that will hollow out a person’s soul with an ice-cream scoop.

Blondie, 5/25/07

This, combined with this, makes me think that the the creators of Blondie no longer believe children to be the future, but rather to be the terrifying, menacing present. Look for Dagwood to lead the charge for all children under the age of 12 to placed in prison camps, and only be released when they’ve passed a series of tests of their moral rectitude. Dag’s suck-up buddy Elmo will be a camp guard, of course.

Mary Worth, 5/25/07

I haven’t really been talking about Mary Worth much because oh God oh God SO BORING. Mary urges Vera to open her heart and forgive her brother, Vera deigns to read letter from Von, letter rambles on at great length, blah blah blabbity blah. I think today’s installment is kind of hilarious, though, because it gets to the heart of Vera’s beef against her brother: she’s not mad because he broke the bonds of filial friendship, or because he let his anger get the best of him over a trivial matter, or because he exploited their father’s sexism for financial gain; no, she’s angry because his actions forced her to get a job, which is presumably one of the most loathsome acts of degradation that she could have possibly been compelled to endure. I dearly hope that she shows up at Creepy Lack Of Affect Advertising Agency and tells all of her former coworkers that she thinks they’re low-class plebes whose only role in this world is to buoy the stock market so that she and her brother can live in unimaginable luxury, only to return to stately Von and Vera Manor to discover that Von has exhausted their savings to buy expensive hooch with which to cool his fevered brow.

IMPORTANT MARK TRAIL-RELATED UPDATE: They won’t stop with birds, people!