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Crankshaft, 1/13/14

One of Crankshaft’s beloved/tiresome running gags is “Lena’s snack food is extremely poorly prepared and thus largely inedible,” but I don’t particularly remember her coffee being a punchline before. At first I thought it was the same gag, but note that Mary is taking another deep swig even after having spun into pin-eyed freakout mode in panel one. Clearly, while Lena’s brownies are dangerously unchewable, Lena’s coffee is dangerously addictive, with only a single sip of the pure stuff capable of turning you into a mindless junkie, drinking huge gulps even as your mind turns to mush.

Blondie, 1/13/14

Boy, Dagwood looks awful cheery for a guy who knows he’s going to die at five o’clock today! One can only assume that he has this attitude because he’s chosen this death; probably it will take the form of a spectacularly gory and public suicide capping off a killing spree in the office he hates so much. But as a final fuck-you to his employer, he’s going to dick around on the Internet on the company’s dime all day before he murders everybody.

Archie, 1/13/14

Mr. Weatherbee’s thousand-yard stare in panel two is the proper result of sudden, terrible knowledge: he realizes that we are well into the second generation of food’s transformation from a craft to commodity. Soon nobody left alive will remember a meal that was formed by your own hands or the hands of someone you loved. Whether or not we have any particularly fond memories of family dinners from our childhood, the marketing construct of “Just like mom used to make!” is so embedded in our brains that we’ll repeat it to each other endlessly as we scarf down machine-shaped corn byproduct extrusions dusted with MSG flavor crystals.

Apartment 3-G, 1/13/14

I’m not sure what’s sadder: that Margo doesn’t know anything about Tommie’s car situation, despite the fact that she’s her roommate and ostensibly one of her closest friends, or that Tommie thinks she can drive to England to see her fiance.

Slylock Fox, 1/13/14

Oh my God … that Footprints Jesus poster … it’s really a crime scene

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Lockhorns, 1/7/14

For too long, the Lockhorns has offered us a fairly static view of the title characters’ squat, oblong bodies. Today represents a new artistic direction for this feature, akin to the first-person shooter genre that dominates the video game market. Why just stare at Leroy and Loretta making passive-aggressive remarks to each other or to their hapless acquaintances, when you can ride along on their shoulders and experience those whinges as if you were making them! Thrill as Loretta digs years back into the very earliest days of her marital disappointments and unloads her still shockingly raw pain on … some lady! Watch that lady’s face freeze into a carefully composed mask, to keep from bursting out laughing or bursting into tears! Can you live one panel a day as a Lockhorn and emerge with your sanity intact?

Mary Worth, 1/7/14

Ha ha, whoops, it seems that Mary has been so busy besotting Broadwayman Ken Kensington without any intention of reciprocating his feelings that she’s forgotten that she already has a handsome suitor whose feelings she has no intention of reciprocating! And now he’s back from Vietnam and wants to talk dirty. “What do you have on, Mary? Is every inch of you covered in loose-fitting dusty grape? Tell me everything.”

Crankshaft, 1/7/14

“It will cover our town with a toxic chemical layer that will induce convulsions in most any living thing it touches — pets, children, the elderly and infirm. Even the young and strong who escape its immediate effects will carry the terrible poison in their bodies, shaving years off their miserable lives. The question is, ladies, how serious are you about getting rid of weeds? Do you have the guts to follow this through to its logical conclusion? We must die so our perfect lawns might live!”

Apartment 3-G, 1/7/14

“Because if a woman’s sad, you know what she needs? A man! A man named Roy. Three cheers for men named Roy!”

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Family Circus, 12/19/13

I’m really enjoying Big Daddy Keane’s facial expression in this panel. That’s the look of a man who could not possibly give fewer shits about elves. He was willing to play along and list all the reindeer — that was a tradition, after all — but if this kid thinks the two of them are going to sit around and try to remember the names of, like, Legolas’s brothers or whatever, he’s got another thing coming. This explains his awkward hand placement as well: originally he was planning on picking Jeffy up and carrying him around, but if the kid’s on another one of his damn elf kicks, Daddy will be gingerly putting him down and slowly backing away.

Crankshaft, 12/19/13

Traumatized by the looming prospect of genuine emotional intimacy with another human being, Crankshaft sits alone, getting blotto. Did you know when a character in a comic strip gets super drunk not from drinking alcohol but rather from eating rum-soaked cookies, it’s hilarious, not sad? Crankshaft knows this!