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Gil Thorp, 7/4/06

Ah, it’s summer! That means that Gil Thorp’s interminable and incomprehensible baseball-themed storyline has finally wound up, and the summer vacation hijinks can begin. Last summer we started off with innocent polka antics that quickly degenerated into a dangerous stalking situation, so my hopes for the next few weeks are high. This strip, which features hands and lips freak Mandy taunting the sexually frustrated Brent by forcing him to chase her while she tools around in a golf cart, holds a lot of promise, as does the return of squareheaded smart-ass Milford alum Von, whose lameness is confirmed by the fact that he didn’t flee from these high school kids the moment he saw them.

For those of you who were on tenterhooks, by the way, Mama Jolene decided to let Brent and his fluffy hair go to junior college because she got a free trip to Phoenix. No, I don’t understand it either.

Crock, 7/4/06

Let’s ignore for the moment the fact that this strip isn’t funny. It might have been funny, for instance, if “tar” and “mayo” formed some sort of natural pairing of words, or were opposites, or were ever discussed in the same context, really. Or it may have been funny if “mayo pit” was a phrase that anybody actually used in real life. But we’re ignoring that.

Even ignoring that, we’ve once again got a big coloring problem. Tar is black. Sand is … yellowish brownish, so I suppose the yellow used here is close enough. Mayo is white! White, people! Not yellow!

Unless it was, say, left out in the hot sun.

Like, in the desert.

In a … pit … of some kind.

Then I imagine it would get pretty yellow.

It’d smell pretty bad too.

So I guess the coloring job was OK. Which brings us back to the strip content. Which isn’t funny.

But I said we’d ignore that, didn’t I? All right then.

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Crock, 6/9/06

You know, there’s a certain tension that comes from having sentient talking animals exist in a cartoon world where animals are killed and eaten. Usually that tension is sort of glossed over. But if you want to be a pointlessly cruel bastard about it, hey, knock yourself out. You wouldn’t be the first.

Apartment 3-G, 6/9/06

I’m not sure where Margo suddenly arrived from, but based on how manic she is and how wide her pupils are, I’m guessing she was doing rail after rail of coke while she there. I think all of us know that she’s going to invite herself along to this party and make some kind of horrifying spectacle of herself, which is actually lucky for Lu Ann and Tommie, since she’ll distract from the fact that they’ve chosen to go to a party full of artists and hipsters decked out in pastel suit jackets like a couple of up-and-coming Junior Leaguers.

Margo is not free of fashion sins herself. This is not the first time she has rocked the popped collar, but that doesn’t make it OK.

The Middletons, 6/9/06

Revelations 13:16-19: “And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name. Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.” Good job, the Middletons for depicting the mechanized beginning of the end times, and only three days late.

Mary Worth, 6/9/06

Oh my God, are Kelly and Lou going to start going at it right up against the wall? You haters hate all you want, but this is hot stuff! Hot … hawwwwt.

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Ye cats, while I was busy soaking in the sun and eating large quantities of grilled meat, this weekend’s comics were plugging along providing rich fodder for hilariousness. Let’s jump to them with no further ado!

Judge Parker, 5/27/06

Holy cow, it’s, like, the least subtle foreshadowing in the history of foreshadowing. You know what I think would be great? If this is, in fact, the last we see of April Bower. Not because I have anything against her, I just think it would be great if that smug bastard Sam’s prediction didn’t pan out.

I wonder about Sam’s pose in the last panel. Maybe all this talk of lawyer-on-secretary action, combined with Gloria’s sexy, sexy Judy The Time-Life Operator look, has convinced Sam to “take a dip in the office pool,” if you know what I mean. In panel three, he’s flashing her his expensive watch, as if to say, “This is the sort of bauble that could be yours if you agree to be my on-the-side woman.” By Gloria’s pinched facial expression in panel two, though, it seems that she can’t get past the disgusting thicket of hair on the back of his hands.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/27/06 and 5/29/06

Man, say what you will about FBOFW, but these strips show that it can still deliver. Specifically, it can deliver what I for one have been waiting for, which is Liz getting seriously called on her whiny suburban white girl shit. Take a look at the broad shoulders and quiet dignity of Canada’s Finest there, Lizardbreath: a year and a half from now, when the Spawn of Thérèse is throwing yet another temper tantrum and your mom is there offering unsolicited advice while Anthony is down at Gordo’s Car Emporium yukking it up as he fills his mustache with cinnamon bun crumbs, you’ll be thinking of Mr. Wright as you say “Wait! Did I really miss this? ‘Cause now I’m not sure!”

(Um. That last paragraph revealed both more in-depth knowledge of and more emotional investment in this strip than I frankly was aware that I harbored. Ratchet back, Josh, ratchet back.)

Mark Trail, 5/28/06

Damn, that lady in panel two’s gonna get crabs! Or, um, a crab. Heh. Crabs. I don’t have much to say about this strip, except that it’s one of the better “Mark Trail Teaches You About Nature” installments to come down the pike in quite a while. The sexy-lady-pokes-at-an-enraged-crab-with-a-stick action in the second panel is awesome, of course, as is the notion that crabs walk around weilding sea anemones as weapons. I have no idea if that’s true, but even if it isn’t, it’s one of those things that is so awesome, that if it isn’t true, it should be.

The Phantom, 5/28/06

Meanwhile, the Ghost-Who-Sleeps-Through-His-Wife’s-Kidnapping is, well, sleeping through his wife’s kidnapping. I’m puzzled by Diana’s cry for help in the last panel: I’m reasonably sure how you’d pronounce, say, “KIIIIIIT!!” But “KITTTT!!“? That’s a lot of Ts.

Spider-Man, 5/28/06

The studio may need Marvella, but apparently it doesn’t need Marvella’s costume. Or, specifically, it doesn’t seem to need any of the waist-up part of Marvella’s costume. Yikes!

Family Circus and Crock, 5/29/06

It’s the Battle of the Clumsily Deployed Catchphrases of the Moment! And the surprise winner is the Family Circus. Yes, the joke is lame and will be incomprehensible to anyone reading it 18 months from now, but there’s a certain charming pathos to it: Billy and Dolly glare at Jeffy with angry, piggish faces and jab at him with their fingers, while their little brother, with a tiny bit of control over his environment for once in his life, just closes his eyes, smiles slightly, and enjoys the moment. Crock, on the other hand, is Crock, and therefore sucks.

Slylock Fox, 5/29/06

Do you know why Slick Smitty has that big, self-assured grin on his face? Because he knows that, since he’s a human, a court run by animals has no legal jurisdiction over him. He may be guilty as sin, but he knows that half an hour after the verdict comes down, the court sketch artist will have his neck broken in a snap track and the prosecutor will be turned into a nice muff for his wife. For the sake of justice, we’d all better hope that the judge is a member of an endangered species.

Judge Parker, 5/29/06

And we’re right back where we started … or are we? Yes, today Judge Parker got a new artist — a new artist who has outfitted cult leader Mimi with the cutest paisley vest ever! Randy still looks like a tool, though that’s really unavoidable; at least he doesn’t look like a tool with a face like a monkey. The real test will come when two of the male characters are put in the frame at the same time; will we be able to tell them apart? Still, I for one am happy to offer a provisionally warm welcome to you, “Barreto,” whoever you are.