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We mock, but cartoonists’ lives are hard. The drumbeat deadline, day after day for decades, enfevers the brain ’til it cries out, “Stop!” And stop it does — every cartoonist has a trademark way of putting the strip on autopilot so they can take a freaking break. And February, when the days are grey and the year ahead looks endless, is a great time to knock off for a bit. Here’s how they do it:

Crankshaft, 2/6/08

Tom Batiuk relaxes by expanding weak puns into multiple panels for weeks on end. This one is part of a recurring series, “Crankshaft mispronounces stuff.” The setup is completely arbitrary: Ed doesn’t cook, and wouldn’t use a frou-frou ingredient like balsamic vinegar if he did. If you really must make sense of it, assume that vinegar is Ed’s beverage of choice and they ran out of malt.

Dick Tracy, 2/6/08

Dick Lochler just hits the “pause” button on his calendar. Honestly, Chief Liz has known for more than a month that having your “gross” portrait in the museum gets you disappeared — that’s why she called Dick in the first place. Today’s strip is the equivalent of, “Yeah — what you said.” Somebody needs his Gretchen.

Curtis, 2/6/08

Ray Billingsley famously repeats the same themes year after year (this one is “Curtis’s Black History Month essay”). I suppose we should be grateful that Curtis recycles its material every year — Marmaduke does it every freaking day.

Get Fuzzy, 2/6/08

Darby Conley creates some of the best characters on the comics page today, but everybody deserves a break, and goddammit, he’s taking one. Lately, he seems to have taken to his bosom the cause of the television industry writers’ strike — an issue of pressing concern to no one on the face of the earth.* Phone us when you get back, pal.

– Uncle Lumpy

* Emphatically not true! See discussion in the comments, and retraction at #144

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Crankshaft, 1/4/08

Hey! Remember yesterday, when I said that Crankshaft combined Family Circus-esque “funny” wordplay and soul-searing bleakness? Well sometimes, they don’t even bother with the puns! Sometimes it’s just an angry, lonely old man contemplating his own impending death. Whee!

Mark Trail, 1/4/07

I love that Mark is totally baffled by Luke’s motivations here. “Why would anyone break the law just to spend more time hanging out with a girl? Do you think he put his thingy in her hoo-hoo? Yuck! Luke should get married like me. Then nobody thinks you’re weird but you never have to spend any time with girls ever!”

Apartment 3-G, 1/4/08

Watch out, Eric! When the four different voices in Margo’s head all say the same thing, it means nothing but trouble.

One Big Happy, 1/4/08

Ah, my favorite kind of One Big Happy: The kind where Joe realizes that his smug satisfaction in his own ignorance is only going to be cute for another year or two, and decides to milk it for all it’s worth.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/3/08

The submissive dialog in panel one of this strip seems to indicate that Eric has at last perfected his greatest creation: the Margo-bot 4000, an automaton with all of the external characteristics of a Margo but none of the sass or lip. Why one would want a Margo with no sass or lip is, of course, a puzzle, which may explain why the sexy cyberfemale is already starting in with the backtalk by panel three; surely the Margo-bot would be programmed to at least simulate the real thing’s essential hostility. Presumably the Margo-bot, imbued with these fundamentally conflicting impulses, will, like 2001: A Space Odyssey’s HAL, eventually go on a killing rampage, probably joined in the bloodbath by the actual Margo.

Crankshaft, 1/3/08

You know, Crankshaft often consists of this sort of sub-cute Family Circus-style punnery. But unlike the grinning morons of the Family Circus, the Crankshafters usually look angry or upset as they deliver their little verbal jests, today’s panel three being a prime example. “Just as annoying as the Family Circus, but so much grimmer”: That was the Crankshaft elevator pitch right there. I can’t deny that I too would have given it the green light.

Pluggers, 1/3/08

There are two little words I find confusing in today’s Pluggers, and they are “-in” and “-law”. Why wouldn’t this have worked just as well with the dog-man’s son (or daughter, for that matter) being the newly minted pentuagenarian? Is the joke perhaps that the son-in-law is significantly older than the daughter? Are you a plugger if you married off your 15-year-old daughter to one of your peers to consolidate both families’ land holdings?