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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/17/11

Lureen is extremely depressed, just crying and crying for no reason she or anyone else can name. Do you find that funny, Loweezy? Apparently you do! Apparently you find it hilarious, you monster.

Crankshaft, 3/17/11

Actually, ‘shaft, I think he understands the motivational power that the the terror of violence instills just fine! On the other hand, I’m a little a disappointed that you didn’t come up with some terrible pun while commenting on this awful scene of abuse.

Crock, 3/17/11

I’m pretty sure this is the first time that a summary execution has been even hinted at in the comics pages.

Blondie, 3/17/11

You probably think that this is the cheeriest cartoon out of this batch, but Mr. Dithers knows what a shillelagh is for and how to use it. Enjoy your St. Patrick’s Day, everybody!

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Mark Trail, 2/28/11

“His name is Mark Trail and he is American.” God, has any phrase ever been so perfectly calculated to make your proud to be from the U.S. — or, if you aren’t from the U.S, to make you ashamed for being a filthy foreigner who can’t vote for the same President that Mark Trail votes for? (Mark Trail casts his ballot with his fist, so that there’s never any question of “voter intent”.) My heart was so swelled with patriotism upon reading this that I almost missed the insane implication that underlies this statement, namely that Mark somehow drifted in his small boat to another country, an exotic tropical island inhabited by white people. Who are these mysterious tribeswomen? Why have they dragged Mark back to their home rather than seeking medical attention for that festering black wound on his forehead? What oppressive regime causes them to fear being discovered in even this half-assed act of kindness? Why does Mark keep an autographed photo of his wife in his wallet? Is it in case he forgets her name, or forgets which of the baffling and terrifying females in his life he’s married to?

Crock, 2/28/11

God help me, I have to say that I like almost everything about this Crock strip. I like the way the camel is drawn to some kind of realistic scale, dwarfing the bartender and all the human-sized furniture in the strip. I like his nonviolent but apparently extremely effective threat to slobber all over our speciesist barkeep. But mostly I like the dialogue-less third panel, in which the camel grins at us triumphantly, with the telltale cartoon bubbles over his head indicating that he’s already well on his way to being drunk. Kudos to you, my soused desert-dwelling friend!

B.C., 2/28/11

Today’s B.C. accidentally raises an interesting question about primitive societies: in tiny early hominid bands — there can’t be more than, what, 10 named characters in the entire B.C. universe, right? — where everyone knew each other intimately, could much of what we think of as crime ever happen?

Apartment 3-G, 2/28/11

Ha, it’s only Monday and Margo is already getting lit. There’s a number of ways this story can end — in recriminations, in violence, in oversharing — and all of them are delicious.

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Funky Winkerbean, 2/3/11

In linguistic matters, I am a firm descriptivist rather than a prescriptivist. I believe that many grammatical rules waved about by pedants are poppycock based on Victorian-era grammarians who wanted to make English more like Latin. I also know that all languages slowly change in both grammar and vocabulary — if this weren’t so, we’d all be talking like Shakespeare, or we’d be able to read Beowulf in the original — and fighting against such change is pointless. Still, there are certain neologisms that set me off, and one of them is “quality” used as a synonym for “good.” My old roommate had this same reaction when people used “luck” to mean “good luck,” which I found hilariously overwrought, and I recognize that this is essentially the same linguistic phenomenon, and yet here I am, wanting to strangle Les, even more so than usual. I guess I just associate this use of “quality” with soulless corporate prose, and assumed that as an Important Writer Person Les would reject it with great smugness. I mean, there’s a gas station near where I live that has a huge sign that reads “QUALITY IS NOT AN OPTION — EXPECT IT,” which never fails to make me laugh, and I guess I’m discovering that my standards for Les are a little higher.

In other news, grad school-era Les was some kind of leering, sideburned megalomaniac, and it’s actually rather shocking that Ronnie bothered to seek him out.

Crock, 2/3/11

Since I relentlessly slam on Crock for being unfunny and terribly drawn, I feel obliged to admit that today’s installment actually made me laugh. I kind of love everything about it, from Preppie’s horrified nose-wobbling to the ugly dog’s smug post-obscene-gesture smirk in the final panel. I’m always fascinated by the fact that taboo words or gestures that cannot be depicted in mass media can be described or otherwise conveyed such that the reader knows exactly what’s been censored, like when only the vowels of swear words are blanked out on the radio. Probably the strip would be wholly incapable of depicting a dog giving “the paw” in a way that makes any kind of visual sense, but today at least that weakness is turned into a strength.

Judge Parker, 2/3/11

I dearly hope that our hitherto unseen sexy home-wrecking publicist is at the door, mangled, broken, still wearing her hospital gown, and trailing an IV behind her; she’s come to aggressively mate with a married author, as stipulated in Cheatham House’s standard contract. It would also be funny if that knocking were actually being produced by a woodpecker — a giant, sexy woodpecker.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/3/11

Berna, you don’t know the half of it! Look at those stitches across the top of his head — it looks like Dex finally got that brain surgery he always wanted!

B.C., 2/3/11

“Also, describe in graphic detail how his chitinous exoskeleton will shatter the moment the needle hits it!”

Panel from Mary Worth, 2/3/11

I used to love the Internet as well, but with this vision of Internet-apology swimming before me, all untrimmed fingernails and wobbly combed-over hair, I think I’ll destroy all electronic equipment in my house forever. Well played, Mary Worth!