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Pluggers, 8/3/06

Sooo … Grandma’s a Plugger, daughter-in-law isn’t? Oooh, mixed marriage: edgy. Daughter-in-law is wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, so she’s clearly some sort of ball-breaking feminist lesbian professional woman. I see a kidnapping/multi-state chase in the near future, followed by a circus trial in which the “a working mother is by definition a child abuser” argument serves as the main defense.

Mary Worth, 8/3/06

Of course, they had to clean it up for the funny pages. I have it on pretty good authority that this is what Mary actually said:

“Is this some sort of motherfucking joke? Huh? Does it look like I’m motherfucking laughing to you, motherfucker? Get your punk-ass hands away from me!”

And then it just sort of goes on like that for a while.

Even without the cussing, I think I can say with some confidence that there’s only one other person in the last two years who’s made Mary this mad:

That’s right: Aldo Kelrast is now officially as awesome a Mary Worth character as Rita Begler. After a lull of some months, this strip is back on top of its ridonculous game.

Gil Thorp, 8/3/06

“That’s right, on my legs! My long, smooth, totally unscarred legs! So you see, we’re really a lot alike, except in all the ways that actually matter for this discussion. What I’m trying to say is, I want you to wear this bag over your head at the next meet.”

Dick Tracy, 8/3/06

“Thanks for showing me the outside of your wallet, detective! I’ll do anything you say now.”

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Marmaduke, 8/1/06

You ever think that maybe male poodles (who by my guess make up about half the poodle population) get tired of the poodle being the epitome of sexy cartoon dog femininity? It’s not their fault if they have to have the girly haircuts. On the other hand, how do I know that all these randy dogs lined up on the couch are boy dogs looking for some lady dog tail? This could be a big doggie buffet of canine polymorphous perversion. I saw a dog hump an ottoman once, so they can’t really be that discriminating.

Dick Tracy, 8/1/06

Al Kinda, who so far has proved to be al Qaeda’s most incompetent terrorist mastermind, manages to pull off something special in panel two: history’s longest-distance pistol-whipping. Seriously, I don’t think that Capitol cop got within ten feet of that gun. Maybe after the Cynthia McKinney incident, the Capitol Police are all just taking a dive whenever anyone swings something cell-phone sized at them, just to keep the media circus to a minimum. Or maybe Kinda’s wacky outfits have something to do with his abilities to work spooky Levantine magic.

Get Fuzzy, 8/1/06

Considering this is Bucky, he’s being remarkably thoughtful by doing it in the bathroom. More than I can say for some rubber-band eating cats I know and live with.

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Dick Tracy, 7/5/06

I’m beginning to suspect that this Dick Tracy storyline is an extended apologia for the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program; thus, it’s somewhat ironic that it brought up the subject of the U.S.’s secret monitoring of terrorist financial activities weeks before the New York Times did. Still, one begins to see their point: if our terrorists enemies are as dumb as Al Kinda here — who, while sitting in his Washington, D.C., office, changed from Western clothes into some sort of costume from a touring dinner-theater production of Sinbad the Sailor, and then greeted the entire al Qaeda network by name on his enormous wireless phone — then they probably won’t be smart enough to realize that they’re being spied on until they read about it in the liberal media.

Shoe, 7/5/06

Speaking of morons dressed in ridiculous outfits, here’s today’s Shoe. I have to admit that I’m charmed by the idea of some kind of Shakespearean method actor who refuses to change out of his costume, ever. Apparently, despite the fact that the vast majority of stage productions in this country feature contemporary characters dressed in essentially street clothes, the artist felt most Americans would fail to recognize Ye Olde Birde as an actor without this faux-Elizabethan getup, even though he utters the words “my” and “play” (in that order) in the first panel. This is a troubling assumption, but, sadly, it’s probably a safe one.

Mary Worth, 7/5/06

Ooh! Ooh! Mary Worth is being stalked! Mary Worth is being stalked! By, apparently, the world’s dumbest stalker, who appears to be standing approximately fifteen feet away from her and thinking, “Nobody can see me! Why, that branch is barely three feet above my head! I’M INVISIBLE! MOO HA HA HA!”

Oh, and: mustache, light hair — is our sinister fellow erstwhile Dawn Weston paramour/effette intellectual snob/violent rage addict Woody Hills? Dare to dream!

Slylock Fox, 7/5/06

I’m less interested in these so-called “facts” about peanut butter (no doubt supplied, along with a generous honorarium, out the deep pockets of the American Peanut Butter and Peanut Products Council) and more in the little tableau that accompanies them. From the look on the face of the groovy, hippie headbanded chick, she’s about to hit her breaking point. I’ll bet when she visualized her future as a young girl, it didn’t include dealing with a couple of buck-toothed freaks (are they brothers? father and son?) fighting over a condiment while she cleaned up after them. All I can say to Greedy McSandwicheater is that he’d better clean up those globs of peanut butter he’s spilled on the table, because that knife is temptingly close to his throat.