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Hi and Lois, 6/29/15

As Hi and Lois slowly retreats to its retro roots, the Thurstons are also starting to fulfill their role from a less genteel age: not only is Thirsty an unpleasant drunk once again, but the childless couple are also depicted as being just a little less classy overall than the Flagstons, and I mean “classy” as in economic class. Sure, they live in an identical suburban house next door, but there are hints. That patch on the chair, for instance: Lois would never permit anything so shabby in her home! The family dynamic that has Irma doing yoga in the living room of what I assume to be a multi-bedroom house specifically to annoy her husband is another issue altogether, as is the fact that Hi immediately says “that’s good, right?” to Thirsty’s announcement.

Funky Winkerbean, 6/29/15

Ah, let’s check back in with Cindy’s story, which it’s my understanding is about … how young people are terrible to old people? Hmmm, something seems off here, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Heathcliff, 6/29/15

Ooh! Ooh! I know! He got them from a genie! Man, I’m really enjoying Heathcliff’s new arc-driven storytelling style.

Pluggers, 6/29/15

“Wow, this section is full of misdirected lower-middle-class cultural resentment! Wouldn’t want you reading any of that.”

Crankshaft, 6/29/15

Don’t you miss the good ol’ days, when a soldier could be violently beat up day after day in the comics and no meddling politicians would disapprove?

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Funky Winkerbean, 6/26/15

Oh, look, it’s “jack-and-jill (v)”, another made-up phrase that nobody will ever use from the strip that brought you “Lewis-and-Clarking,” “Nordic,” and “solo car date!” This one really ups the ante, in the sense that a character is summoned forth from the narrative ether and brought on-panel to say it after having terribly injured himself.

Crock, 6/26/15

Attention cartoonists everywhere: the era when a sentence could be deemed a punchline just because it included the phrase “cell phone” was extremely brief and ended more than a decade ago! Please make a note of it.

Heathcliff, 6/26/15

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize this isn’t just garden-variety Heathcliff irritating whimsy, but a terrible play on words: the genie created jeans, get it? Get it? GET IT??? Based on the numb expression on the genie’s face, he’s as disgusted by it as I am.

Marvin, 6/26/15

“Yes, that’s right lady,” thinks Marvin’s mom slyly in panel three, “my husband is completely unfuckable.”

Crankshaft, 6/26/15

YES

CRANKSHAFT AND HIS BUDDIES ARE GOING TO BE ARRESTED FOR POLITICAL CRIMES AND CONVICTED IN A PUBLIC SHOW TRIAL

THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR MY WHOLE LIIIIIFE

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Crankshaft, 6/22/15

Happy Monday, everybody! Remember how Crankshaft’s depressed old theater-owning friend hit a pothole and decided to run for mayor? Well apparently that wasn’t depressing enough for the Funkyverse, so here you go: road conditions in Centerville are so bad that that they’re literally paralyzing the populace. The current corrupt administration doesn’t care how many shattered spines serve as a testament to its administrative incompetence, which will make it extra poignant when Ralph inevitably loses.

Rex Morgan, 6/22/15

At last! Mrs. P. is seeing Sarah’s paintings! For the very first time! And … uh … no, wait…

I know this plotline has had a certain “making it up as we’re going along and also forgetting the details of what happened before, or maybe playing an elaborate game of Exquisite Corpse” quality about it, but I’m pretty sure this is the first time the narration box’s information has been immediately contradicted by dialogue. If this were an improv scene — and frankly I have no evidence that it isn’t — I’d be pretty disappointed.

B.C., 6/22/15

A legacy strip like B.C. has of course accumulated characters and running gags over the decades, and Apteryx, who always introduces himself with “I’m Apteryx, a wingless bird with hairy feathers,” has been around for literally as long as I can remember. Not any more, though, as he’s now dead, devoured in an orgy of violence by these hungry predators. RIP Apteryx, we’ll miss you!