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Blondie, 8/3/23

It’s a little unsettling that Blondie just produces this elaborate sandwich tray out of nowhere between the second and third panels. I’m imagining her humming softly to herself as she made it over the course of the quiet morning before these ladies showed up, thinking, with increasing anticipation, about her husband “going away” as football season got into swing. Oh, sure, he’d be there, physically, for the most part. But she’d sure have to deal with him a lot less. “How nice! Where are they going?” she asks, innocently, hoping to have found others in the same predicament.

Dennis the Menace, 8/3/23

Sure, this seems pretty treacly at first glance, but I’m going to go ahead and ID as at least mildly menacing a scenario where a couple of unaccompanied children and an unleashed dog are wandering around the countryside, pulling a wagon with a makeshift weapon in it.

Family Circus, 8/3/23

BILLY KEANE: FAIR-WEATHER PATRIOT

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Gil Thorp, 8/2/23

God, can you imagine being part of an institution so dehumanizing and destructive to your identity that it strips your very name away from you, leaving you nothing but a number for identification? And then also, in a mostly unrelated matter, you were prison? Ha ha, I kid, but seriously, it’s a good thing Marty is sober now because in the old days there is absolutely no chance that he’d be able to keep track of two sets of numbers while doing the play by play.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 8/2/23

I was going to question why Silas’s general store, literally the only retail outlet in town, would even need to advertise, but then I realized that the residents of Hootin’ Holler need occasional reminders that they have access to a place where money can be exchanged for goods; it’s only recently that the community has taken the first tentative steps beyond its traditional subsistence agriculture/chicken theft economy.

Blondie, 8/2/23

Sorry, guys, Marx says that the struggle of class against class is a political struggle, so you are definitely discussing politics.

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Mary Worth, 7/13/23

Do you think this warehouse is the same one where the famed Operation H-Town shootout went down way back in ought-nine? You know, the one where Scott, the heroic cop who was in love with Dr. Jeff’s sad sack daughter Adrian, got shot and ended up in a coma, which finally inspired her to accept his marriage proposal, but then he regained consciousness so she had to go through with it and eventually they sort of vanished from the strip? Anyway, my point is that there can’t be that many crime warehouses in a small community like Santa Royale, so it’s probably the same one or pretty close to it, and you can understand why these police officers, remembering the tragic night when they almost lost one of their own, are surprised to find a bunch of non-dead dogs in there. I guess this town really is gentrifying nicely!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/13/23

“Say, you know, one way to deal with that problem would be if your kid suffered some kind of physical trauma that resulted in amnesia, just a whole chunk of your child’s mind and experience wiped conveniently away. Probably the sort of thing that should be done under the supervision of a medical professional, if you want to go that route. My fees are not very reasonable, but you’ve already said that you’re rich, so I assume that’s fine.”

Blondie, 7/13/23

Does it work in those Hallmark movies? Hallmark movies, a genre that stereotypically panders to the fantasies of its female audience? And in those movies, men get out of chores by complimenting their wives’ physical appearances? And that works, you say? Hmm. Hmm.

Zits, 7/13/23

“He’s been a teenager since this comic debuted 26 years ago! Why would he start aging now? It doesn’t add up!”