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Gil Thorp, 7/11/07

Ha ha! Oh, man, the Gil Thorp summer hijinks are getting started even more quickly than I could have hoped! I’m totally in love with Gail Martin, the “rock and roll Carole King,” as she was called yesterday; truly, nothing shouts “rock and roll” like a collared shirt and a long braid that you clutch dramatically to your chest while you belt out your non-hits and your banjo player grooves behind you. This looks exactly like the kind of scene where a brawl would break out, and I look forward to tomorrow’s weirdly proportioned and strangely angled fisticuffs. Since Kelly has a troubled past with guys with rage issues, this should provide excellent fuel for one of the eleven rapidly crosscut dramas that will be entertaining us until football practice starts up again.

Apartment 3-G, 7/11/07

Ruby’s dialogue says “funny Texan with more realistic ideals of beauty than these supposedly sophisticated New York City girls,” but her solemn expression in panel three, along with Tommie and Margo’s panicked exchange of glances, says “violent feederism.” In two weeks, look for the two of them to be tied to their chairs, their faces smeared with tangy barbecue sauce, begging for mercy, as Ruby says, “Nuh-uh, Maggie, you still only got one chin!”

Ziggy, 7/11/07

If you thought that the sight of a desperate, insane, bald dwarf with no pants jabbering about the dishonesty of inanimate objects while thrusting a fifteen-year-old household appliance at bemused service worker wouldn’t be funny, well, today’s Ziggy is here to be prove you wrong. I actually laughed aloud at this. Ziggy may continue to exist, as far as I’m concerned.

As I look at it more, I’m sort of hypnotized by the text in Ziggy’s word balloon. The symmetry between the sentence-initial “i” (lowercase, in defiance of all known typographical conventions) and the final exclamation mark, makes it look like he’s actually shouting “T lies!” in Spanish. Which, for my money, is even funnier.

Luann, 7/11/07

I’m only marginally less sick of Brad-Toni than I am of Curtis-Michelle, but this sequence is growing on me. If Toni ends up running off with uberskeeze TJ because of his cooking (or “cooking”) skills, I will be willing to forgive a lot that’s happened in the last few years.

Dick Tracy, 7/11/07

It just wouldn’t be Dick Tracy if the payoff didn’t include somebody writhing around in pain. This isn’t the optimistic fantasy land of Mark Trail; those eyes aren’t growing back.

Family Circus, 7/11/07

Hmm, what’s the most alarming part of this? Yeah, I’m going to have to say that it’s Big Daddy Keane’s little smile.

Gasoline Alley, 7/11/07

Gasoline Alley: the one comic strip that isn’t afraid to show you how the system is stacked against the white man.

Spider-Man, 7/11/07

In a strip that brought us such epic battles as Dr. Octopus vs. his television, Spidey vs. a bowl-hatted butler, Spidey vs. his own outdated ideas of economics and gender, and, of course Spidey vs. a brick, today’s struggle between J. Jonah Jameson and Larry King may represent a dramatic zenith.

And, finally, I’m sure sexy toast-eating is somebody’s fetish, so:

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/11/07

Go to town, perverts!

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Blondie, 7/10/07

Ah, the dilemma for lady-lovin’ comics readers: if you want to see a Blondie love scene, you have to put up with Dagwood foreplay.

Curtis, 7/10/07

I’ve been deliberately ignoring the Curtis-Michelle drama, as is my wont, but: damn if I don’t want to see this “puppeteer” and his be-afro’d, freakily big-mouthed “puppet” as often as possible. As a regular character, he could replace Gunk, as far as I’m concerned. Or Barry.

Dick Tracy, 7/10/07

See, here’s a strip that’s still got a few tricks up its sleeve. I think we all expected that the “Grandfather” in the tradeoff would really be Dick Tracy in disguise. I don’t think any of us expected that he would peel said disguise off of his face, causing the still-lifelike features to stretch and melt like some kind of peyote-fueled nightmare.

Mark Trail, 7/10/07

OH MY GOD SHE HIT ME IN THE FACE WITH HER FACE

Marmaduke, 7/10/07

And pooping, right? Don’t forget about pooping. You forget about pooping at your own risk. I’ve seen your yard; it’s not that big.

Zits, 7/10/07

Holy crap, is Walt smoking a blunt on the back porch? YOU ARE MY NEW HERO, SIR!

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Apartment 3-G, 6/20/07

I’m very excited that Apartment 3-G has torn itself away from Roommate In A Coma to instead explore some queasy-making intrafamilial sexual ick. It’s becoming clear that Nora Mills, who as near as I can tell is supposed to be the widow of Eric’s brother, has clearly got a taste for Mills men that only another Mills man can satisfy. Questions remain: Is Eric’s Katy’s real father? Did Eric choose Margo as a romantic partner because she and Nora essentially look exactly alike? Will Nora and Margo settle this with icy glares and cutting remarks, fists, or shivs? Is that RING RING RING the most exciting panel-to-panel transition in Apartment 3-G history? And, what with Katy’s hair having grown back, is it possible that Margo’s party planning actually cures cancer?

Dick Tracy, 6/20/07

So Dick Tracy is onto a new baffling and anger-inducing storyline, which so far involves:

• A wizened old Baron who’s an ex-Communist spy or something
• His bizarrely leather-faced granddaughter in peril, Gretchen
• Some bewildering and totally made up post-Soviet pretend politics and intrigue
• A CIA headquarters building with a “CIA HEADQUARTERS” sign visible from miles away

None of that has been enough to rouse me to comment. However, I do have to say that I appreciate the artist’s bold choice in the third panel to focus the action squarely on Dick Tracy’s crotch.

Mark Trail, 6/20/07

Man, it’s hard to count all the things wrong with today’s Mark Trail, but let’s start with Mark’s casual posture and shit-eating grin in panel one. It says “I’m all relaxed and ready for some phone sex” and not “I just almost got killed and then spent an hour rooting around inside a duck’s intestines.” Then there’s the idea that a two-seater private plane running into a bird is somehow big enough news to travel all the way back to Lost Forest — presumably everything Mark Trail does or says is front page news in the local paper — and the fact that Mark himself didn’t bother to be the one to relay said drama to his wife. There’s the par-for-the-course emphasis problem in Cherry’s first word balloon — that should be “how are you”, not “how are you” — and someone in the syndicate has clearly bowdlerized “that whore” into “the young lady” in panel two. But mostly I’m just disturbed by Cherry’s melting nightmare of a face. PLEASE MARK DON’T MAKE HER SAD ANYMORE IT’S FREAKING ME OUT.

Mary Worth, 6/20/07

More proof that Mary and Jeff are very much not ever getting it on: if Dr. Corey Junior thought for a single moment that there was the slightest sliver of a chance that he might accidentally walk in on the two of them having sex, you can bet that he’d be knocking, very loudly.

Actually, Mary’s pretty lucky that her not-boyfriend’s son arrived when he did. Dr. Jeff really doesn’t want to go this party, and in panel one he’s pretty clearly sizing up his cane as a potential weapon.

Spider-Man, 6/20/07

In any marriage, there’s a certain amount of give and take, compromises two partners have to make so that they can both get what they want, even — or perhaps especially — when it comes to sex. Clearly the Parkers have just finished off a rousing session of healthy marital relations, and, as is their custom, they left the TV on throughout, due to Peter’s insistence on bitching at and about it at all times.