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Beetle Bailey, 3/9/19

Wow, the physical abuse Sarge routinely pours onto Beetle has never before been so clearly linked to the sexual advances from Miss Buxley that Beetle seems so eager to avoid. Shoutout to Beetle Bailey for keeping it fresh when it comes to the dark network of perversity underlying the relationships among its characters.

The Lockhorns, 3/9/19

I honestly kind of like the Lockhorns panels that are clearly just an excuse to use some joke the writer heard or thought up rather than one rising organically from the title characters’ mutual distain, and I appreciate that care is taken to place the gag in the proper Lockhorns context of marital misanthropy. Sure, this is a cute little joke of the sort that might make a long-married couple giggle together at the back of a church during the wedding of an acquaintance. Loretta’s withering glare reminds us that the Lockhorns are not that kind of a couple.

Dennis the Menace, 3/9/19

I don’t know why but I’m very fixated on why Henry’s hair is mussed and shirt untucked? Maybe I’m missing something very obvious but I don’t get it! Like, was he pacing the house flailing his arms around and tearing his hair out because their guests were so late, growling “Ugh, they’re so late and I’m so mad about it but the rules of politeness dictate that I not mention their lateness when they arrive! I certainly hope nobody spills the beans about how upset I am at them!”

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Mary Worth, 3/4/19

After Estelle’s cavalcade of awful no-good dates, I was beginning to think that maybe Silverdater profiles just didn’t have pictures? You know, because so many old people believe that cameras capture and imprison your soul or whatever. But, nope, I guess she looked at all those other dudes and said “sure,” or, conversely, was bamboozled by their misleading photos and yet still believes “Arthur Z” is the silver fox she’s seeing on her off-brand tablet. Anyway, “Arthur Z”: not real, right? That’s a model from a denture catalogue badly photoshopped onto a picture downloaded from the Wikipedia article for Tahiti? And “Arthur”’s gonna ask for money, via an international wire transfer? I’m excited!

Gil Thorp, 3/4/19

Hey, can we talk about Marty’s boots? Specifically: what the heck is the deal with Marty’s boots? I mean, I don’t doubt Marty Moon is a man who allows himself the little boost you get from a subtly raised heel, but, like, how far up the leg do they go? Are they cowboy boots? Shiny black leather cowboy boots? Marty has vanquished B/Robby and it’s only Monday, so presumably he’ll spend the rest of the week gloating, possibly while spinning around gleefully in his chair, so maybe we’ll get to see some different angles on them.

Marvin, 3/4/19

Honestly, I don’t think it’s possible for Marvin to be more on-brand than this strip, in which the title character’s exhausted mother stares at her son, eyes heavy-lidded, trying to convince him that, actually, someday he’ll enjoy shitting in a toilet instead of his pants, while he glares back at her in open defiance.

Dennis the Menace, 3/4/19

Truly excellent menacing today, Dennis. Nostalgia is a trap! Wallowing the the idealized “good old days” blinds you to the true scope of history and cuts you off from progress!

Pluggers, 3/4/19

See, Pluggers gets it! (The whole point of Pluggers is that when you relate to one of the panels, that’s how you know you’re dying, right?)

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Dennis the Menace, 2/9/19

Not sure which is more menacing: that Dennis is trying to pull his mother into a pact of omertà, in which mutual silence encourages a downward spiral of crime; or that this alliance implicitly places Henry, who should be Alice’s equal and partner, in the role of enforcer of the morality that both she and Dennis will attempt to evade and undermine.

Hagar the Horrible, 2/9/19

The little detail that really makes this cartoon work for me is the circles under Helga’s eyes that you can see in the final panel. Ha ha, it’s funny because her husband forgot her birthday, and she’s been crying!

Gil Thorp, 2/9/19

And just like that, Marty Moon came up with the idea that would let him leave behind the small-town high school sports radio career he had come to loathe and skyrocket to fortune and fame: college-age Abraham Lincoln erotica.