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Family Circus, 11/13/11

Man, the disgusted look on Big Daddy Keane’s face as he realizes that his daughter views sacred communion with God as just another sordid amusement is pretty priceless. One hopes that he remains so focused on her that he doesn’t notice Billy making a wholly inept attempt to summon up the Prince of Darkness by reading the hymnal upside down.

Crankshaft, 11/13/11

Crankshaft may be old and senile and kind of deaf, and they might have finally gotten some kind of legal mumbo-jumbo that says he isn’t allowed to have all his guns anymore, but he fought the Nazis to save America and by God he isn’t going to let that God-damned Khrushchev and his commies take over his lawn.

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Mark Trail, 11/3/11

As if we needed more evidence, today we see who’s really in charge here in McQueen Valley. Supposed lawman Mountie McQueen gets all twitchy and gun-happy at the slightest hint of trouble. Mother McQueen, however, just casually and subtly lets everyone know who’s in charge and who could be savagely ripped to shreds by a bear at any moment. “Yes, I rescued this beast as a cub from a pack of bloodthirsty predators, and now it is devoted to me, and only me. Does his presence make you … uncomfortable? Here, let me tie this flimsy muzzle around his snout. I can take it off just as easily as I put it on! And of course his claws remain at the ready. Now, was one of you saying something about leaving this valley or attempting to contact the outside world?”

Crankshaft, 11/3/11

It used to be that you could say, “Crankshaft may be a miserable, hateful human being who will soon die alone and unloved, as he deserves, and occasionally we’re forced to contemplate the ugly and pathetic libidinous impulses that lurk below his crusty, misanthropic surface, but at least we’re never forced to contemplate the volume and texture of his bowel movements.” Used to be.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/3/11

Meanwhile, a couple of depressives playing video games in a comic book store are trying to compare themselves to badasses who practiced dark magic.

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Mary Worth, 11/2/11

OMG MARY JUST GO PICK-POCKETED RIGHT THERE IN HER ELEGANT LUNCHING ESTABLISHMENT!! Look at these thugs, with their futuristic whited-out glasses and leather vests and knitted belts and man-necklaces! We all know what that ensemble means: Filthy thieving hippies. Brazen ones too: it looks like after they purloined Mary’s wallet, they walked right around Mary and Toby’s table rather than scurrying off in the other direction, to get the kicks that hard drugs no longer provide.

Sadly, this probably means that there will be no pool party for us, as Mary will be far too busy filing police reports and canceling her credit cards to engage in any such frivolity.

Apartment 3-G, 11/2/11

Every once in a while you realize that the only reason that Lu Ann and Margo have managed to survive this long as roommates is because they function on such entirely different levels that they don’t actually understand what they’re saying to each other. For instance, Margo uses the phrase “bridge-and-tunnel man” to refer to a guy into a certain sexual act so perverse that even she finds it mildly distasteful.

B.C., 11/2/11

Say what you will about Apartment 3-G’s weirdly New Jersey-focused romance plot, but it has yet to indulge in a single Jersey Shore gag.

Crankshaft, 11/2/11

It used to be that you could say, “Crankshaft may be a miserable, hateful human being who will soon die alone and unloved, as he deserves, but at least we’re never forced to contemplate what sort of ugly and pathetic libidinous impulses lurk below his crusty, misanthropic surface.” Used to be.