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Gil Thorp, 2/17/10

What Gil Thorp storyline would be complete without a little erotic coaching? Sexy Lady Mudlark basketball star Cassie wipes the sweat off her toned body coquettishly, waiting for her personal trainer/svengali Steve Luhm to sidle up behind her and whisper sweet nothings about “trusting her hands” into her ears. (Yesterday Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp admonished Steve for coaching from the stands, but nothing can stop him from sneaking down courtside to offer a little advice on the down low.)

Unfortunately, the usual baffling sports action occupies panel three, leaving us unable to properly assess whether Steve’s advice was for good or for ill. I’d have guessed “there’s another steal!” would refer to Cassie stealing the ball from her opponent, but the actual image depicts her be-afro’d New Thayer rival firmly in possession. Perhaps the “stealing” she’s doing involves stealing the poor girl’s life-essence, causing her right arm to bend unnaturally at the elbow (I defy you to draw an anatomically probably line from her wrist to her shoulder). This act of sporting witchcraft is a result of a series of incantational gestures made by Cassie’s left or “sinister” hand. Trust it, Cassie! Let the evil flow through you!

Crock, 2/17/10

I have to assume that someone over at Crock central feels bad for creating a character named “Grossie” solely for the purpose of being the butt of fat jokes and ugly jokes, and has now, using his authorial omnipotence, decided to rectify years of abuse by having her bewitch the local legionnaires. While this is baffling from an in-universe perspective, I do have to admit that I kind of like the look of melting-face despair on Supposedly Attractive Woman Whose Name I Forget in panel two, though it’s hard to differentiate it from melting-face confusion or melting-face sarcasm or any other melting-face emotion with which someone in Crock might be afflicted.

Crankshaft, 2/10/10

My goodness, Crankshaft has been taken up bodily to serve at the Right Hand of Our Lord, just like the prophets of old! This makes me feel all the better about not going to heaven when I die.

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Archie, 2/2/10

There are a number of unsettling objects that have spilled out of Jughead’s locker. It’s probably actually not unsettling to see that Jughead owns at least one spare crown-hat; I had (I think with some justification, based on his character) assumed that Jughead only owned a single hat, which was by this point frayed and stained with years of hair-grease. Any points gained for this are instantly lost, however, by the sight of that sandwich, which despite its many layers is cohering together as a single, immutable unit as it tumbles across the rubble, possibly due to its condiments having long ago congealed into a binding more powerful than concrete. And, of course, the less said about the tiny scale model of Archie as a double amputee the better.

Crock, 2/2/10

Wow, if you had asked me who Crock’s chief gag artist saw as his avatar in the strip, the loathed and incompetent leader of the Lost Patrol would not have been anywhere on my list. But I can sort of see the connection.

Marmaduke, 2/2/10

Ha ha, some namby-pamby liberal judge thinks that Marmaduke can be restrained from his usual horrors by an electronic ankle bracelet! At best, the device will merely offer the authorities the means to create a real-time map of his swath of devastation.

Mary Worth, 2/2/10

Even Wilbur is getting bored by the tales of his romantic failures, and so he decides to liven things up with a hearty Black Power salute. Soon afterwards, someone comes by and gives him a soothing scalp massage, if what I’m seeing in panel two makes any sort of sense in the Euclidian space-time continuum that I’m accustomed to.

Phantom, 2/2/10

So, it appears that the Phantom is going to use his presumed widowhood to go around boffing all the ladies who ever had eyes for him. We begin with Captain Savarna, who made eyes at him during the Crocco Adventure (no, really) that happened last year, and is now wooing him with her butt-sculpting “uniform” pants and strokeable phallic torpedoes. Later, our hero will presumably finally make the Jungle Patrol gals’ dreams of seducing their Unknown Commander come true. We’ll eventually find out how well the “But honey, I assumed you were dead!” approach works as a justification for infidelity, especially when the unfaithful partner doesn’t bother to do much legwork to actually confirm his widowed status.

Momma, 2/2/10

Based on what I’ve learned from Apartment 3-G, I’m guessing Momma is showing up for her weekly sex-for-pills appointment. The pinched look on her face indicates that she’s past the point of even pretending to enjoy it.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/27/10

Poor Tommie! No human in the history of time has ever asked her to actually repeat one of her boring, forgettable actions; therefore she has no choice but to assume that Blaze is propositioning her with a request for some perverse French sex act.

Spider-Man, 1/27/10

Ha ha, it sure looks like MJ was looking forward to hanging around Miami in her industrial-grade unmentionables without her dopey husband stupiding things up, am I right? Presumably she fears that his sparkling wit (“See, the theater you’re performing in isn’t on Broadway, which is a street in Manhattan … so you might say you’re … wait for it …”) will alienate all of her theater buddies, while trips to the beach will only result in passersby recoiling in disgust from his freakishly oversized arms and nippleless torso.

Crankshaft, 1/27/10

Wow, Montoni’s must be in a more precarious position than I thought if its hated rival is a counter at the mall’s food court where the employees are forced to wear comical faux-ethnic garb. Still, it’s nice to see that Pam likes to spend time with her dad when he’s indulging in one of his favorite hobbies — insulting strangers — and that she still has visceral personal shame-spiral reactions when he lets loose with his unfocused misanthropy.

Mary Worth, 1/27/10

Whoah, it looks like today is one of the three designated days per year when someone in Mary Worth talks sense! Wilbur’s reaction implies to me that he doesn’t entirely understand how the proposed process works. “Kurt, I went to my doctor and I tested positive for paternity. Maybe you should get tested as well! You can never be too sure!”

Crock, 1/27/10

Hey, kids, remember “boom boxes”? They were like iPods, in the ’80s! As near as I can remember, they were covered with brown flesh and sparse hair and were physically attached to their owners, which explains Otis’s mistake.