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Slylock Fox, 12/9/13

I think “Bertha Bear broke out of prison” should go down among the great opening lines in the history of fiction, along with “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” and “A screaming comes across the sky”. What was she in for, how long did she have left in her sentence, and how did she escape? Unfortunately, none of these questions are answered in today’s strip, although we do at least get an appropriately cluttered vision of an abandoned house in the Slylockverse. The two things I enjoy most about today’s mystery are (a) that the solution hinges not on some confirmable scientific fact about real bears in our universe, but rather anthropomorphic cartoon bears’ well-known predilection for carrying around large, well-labeled jars of honey, and (b) that Bertha Bear is right there, at the lower left, her head sticking out of the floorboards, looking pissed. “Yes, what, honey, are you kidding me? Just arrest me and take me back to the big house and get this over with already, Jesus Christ.”

Mary Worth, 12/9/13

The little dance Mary is doing here as she balances her lust and her status-seeking strikes me as extremely revealing about her character. On the one hand, she obviously finds Ken to be a very attractive slab of Broadwayman, and can’t resist bragging to Shelly that she’s about to be squired about New York on his sexy, sexy arm. On the other, the fact that the voice that made him famous is now no more is obviously a source of great embarrassment to her, because what’s the point of bragging about Ken Kensington’s attentions if he can’t even sing? “Less song in his voice” seems like an extremely minimizing way to say “botched surgery destroyed his career.” I look forward to the moment later in this plot when Shelly urges Ken to sing a few notes over dinner! The resulting social awkwardness should be excruciating for everyone involved.

Family Circus, 12/9/13

You know, I tend to scoff at people who get worked up about how there’s too much time today spent boosting kids’ self-esteem, but if a child as gross and unlikable as Jeffy thinks that a hug and a kiss from him represents of gift of any sort, maybe we have gone too far.

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Beetle Bailey, 12/8/13

Well I for one am relieved to read Cpl. Yo’s line in the final panel of today’s Beetle Bailey. Turns out Sarge isn’t an omnipotent weather-deity after all! That would’ve really thrown everything I believe about the universe into chaos and confusion. No, he’s just a guy with access to an unusually precise weather report.

Family Circus, 12/8/13

Speaking of omnipotence, Billy seems to think of God not so much as the all-knowing, all-powerful spirit being who created time and space, but rather as some guy who gets forgetful or distracted and has to write things down. He also appears to be on the verge of presenting God with a list of demands. Maybe he’s mixing up Our Heavenly Father with Santa Claus? Ma Keane perhaps should look a little less smug, considering the quality of religious education her son seems to have received thus far.

Better Half, 12/8/13

Today in the Better Half: Stanley’s body is crapping out on him, which he appropriate brings up with a joke about a song that’s more than 40 years old; Stanley hates his own mind so much that he’s willing to try anything to numb the pain, including an amateur self-inflicted lobotomy; Harriet’s friend has acquired a sex-robot; and Harriet and Stanley appear to have a daughter who’s never appeared in the strip before. The last of these episodes is by far the most unsettling to me.

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Heathcliff, 12/3/13

Well, congratulations, Heathcliff: you did a panel where the whole joke is that Heathcliff is about to cannonball into a fishbowl barely bigger than he is, and the fish in the bowl can see him and know they’re about to die gasping on the carpet after their whole world is obliterated in a flurry of yowls and shattered glass, and so one of them, as presumably his last act on this earth, just says “Fuck.” Oh, I mean, “fudge,” obviously, except in my experience “fudge” as a minced oath only ever means “I almost said ‘fuck’ but then realized I was in a context where that was inadvisable, like, say, a nationally syndicated newspaper comic.” It seems appropriate, anyway, given the gravity of the situation from the fish’s perspective, although there’s a pretty good chance that Heathcliff might miss the bowl entirely from this distance.

Mark Trail, 12/3/13

The great thing about being a villain in Mark Trail is that when you’re a villain in Mark Trail you’re a villain, by God. None of this “likable antihero” or “moral ambiguity” nonsense, which is for college professors and other sissies. It can take a little while for the humans to figure it out, but Andy has these guys’ number and is already trying to attack. Even Mr. Dunlap’s delicious homemade syrup (or, as I like to call it, “flapjack juice”) physically leaps out of Jared’s hand, refusing to grant its power of deliciousness to such a ne’er-do-well.

In all honesty, I don’t really care that much about whatever harebrained artifact-napping schemes Jeff and Jared have cooked up. All I want is for Mr. Dunlap to wander around spouting off declarative sentences for as long as possible. “He’s staying at the museum! Homemade syrup is great on flapjacks! Suspenders hold my pants up! I like saying things!”

Crankshaft, 12/3/13

Ha ha, it’s the Funkyverse so even the puns are horribly depressing. “There’s no therapy dog? But … I’ve been waiting all week for this! It’s the only thing I’ve had to look forward to! I love dogs, I had dogs my whole life, but I can’t keep one in here. My family never visits me. I just want something warm and friendly and good that will touch me and love me unconditionally. What am I supposed to do with a bunch of fucking flowers?”

Family Circus, 12/3/13

Years later, when Billy was on trial for the various crimes he had committed as leader of the notorious Real Presence of the Manifest Messiah cult, and he took the stand in his own defense, ranting and raving that he was the son of God and no Earthly court could judge or punish him, this moment at the table came rushing back to his mother with terrible clarity.