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Judge Parker, 5/7/08

Hey, kids, welcome to Judge Parker, where nothing ever happens for months and months and months, but when it happens, it really happens! A sexy (admittedly, we can’t see her face, but this being Judge Parker, “sexy” is a good bet) lady terrorist hell-bent on revenge! A cancer-ridden old lady in a wheelchair transformed into an unwilling human bomb! A battle royal between an enraged woman and an ex-Navy SEAL with no legs! Enjoy your next several days of thrilling action before we get back to the boring. In panel two, Momma Steve’s creepy, flesh-colored gag makes her look like some kind of mouthless horror, which hopefully indicates that the denouement of this story will be as deviant as the one in this strip’s pervy trip to France.

Crock, 5/7/08

I’m sort of charmed by the phrase “marked-down polyester from Wal-Mart,” which implies that you can go into the world’s largest retailer and buy great bolts of cloth to take home to your wife, who will sew them into the clothes for you and your children. It reads like it’s been written by someone who’s heard second-hand about developments in retail since the 19th century, but has never actually been in a store per se.

Update: Uh, apparently you can buy fabric at Wal-Mart with which to make your own clothes, like they did in olden days. Ha ha! Josh is a moron!

Ziggy, 5/7/08

Ziggy is so sad and lonely that he’s turned to the bottle; but, far from forgetting his problems, in his drunken state he’s become even more maudlin, and is now just sitting at the table by himself weeping openly. The waiter, profoundly unsettled by the raw emotional pain on display, covers up his discomfort by cracking wise.

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Crock, 4/26/08

It’s a tough life, being a French Foreign Legionnaire stationed in the restive North African colonies, but there are compensations: for instance, sometimes local women will just walk up to you and hand you substantial quantities of hashish. Figowitz looks at the drugs dubiously, obviously raised on a strict moral diet of “just say non.” C’mon, Figowitz, you know what they say: when in Oran, get as high as a kite as often as possible.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/26/08

Looks like our heroes in Rex Morgan, M.D., are going to be facing both medical and legal drama! They seem to be in trouble, but a close look at panel two should alleviate any worries you have about their chances: I wouldn’t be so scared of a lawyer who can’t spell “subpoena.”

Apartment 3-G, 4/26/08

“Watch me make my pants disappear!”

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Crock, 4/2/08

Readers, help me out here: is “hike” some kind of dialectical term for “urinate” or “defecate”? That would be the only way this strip would make any kind of sense, but I can’t seem to find any evidence that the word is ever used in that way. The real tragedy here is that for once Crock came up with a halfway funny joke (admittedly one that’s both gross and cruel, but I never claimed to be highbrow) only to have it bowdlerized.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/2/08

Apparently June, seething with contempt for her husband as usual, agrees with faithful reader indrifan’s COTW runner-up comment from last week. “Play health inspector!” Ha! And “Andy will need all the help he can get” (subtext: and you sure aren’t going to provide it). Rex would be hurt, if he cared at all what June thought.

Dennis the Menace, 4/2/08

SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO DENNIS’S RIGHT HAND? I think that somebody, knowing that Dennis’s ADD-addled mind is unable to properly weigh long-term advantage against short-term gain, has been telling him stories about the “finger fairy,” then casually leaving a chisel where he could get at it.