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Gil Thorp, 7/23/09

There’s a song that’s traditionally sung at the Passover seder called “Dayenu,” a Hebrew word that means, roughly, “It would have been enough.” The thrust of the song is that, during the whole fleeing-from-Egypt thing captured so memorably on film by Cecil B. DeMille and Charlton Heston, God did any number of classy things for the ancient Israelites (smiting the Egyptians, parting the Red Sea, establishing a law code in easy-to-carry stone tablet form, etc.), of which any one would have been plenty good for most people; after each verse, in which one of said divine acts is described, everyone shouts “Dayenu!”

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we may never get to the promised land of classic Gil Thorp summer wackiness (and the so-far snoresville B-plot about hobo Ted Pearse and the Uninterested News Bears doesn’t raise my hopes), but no matter how it turns out, we’ll always have today’s glimpse into Coach Kaz’s Pier-1-Orientalism-ariffic living room to remember fondly. Is the man some sort of secret martial arts master, running his own dojo out of whatever shabby one-bedroom apartment he can afford on an assistant high school coach’s salary? Or does he just really like having a bunch of random Asian crap scattered around his love pad? You know, when I first saw that hanging gong thing, I thought for a minute that it was a framed record album, and that his rap-metal single “Playdowns (Next Year For Sure)” had finally gone platinum, which, you have to admit, makes exactly as much sense as whatever’s going on here.

Not to be neglected in the midst of Coack Kaz’s unsettling decor are his unsettlingly ripped shoulder muscles. Fortunately, Kaz knows that ordinary humans would be intimidated and terrified by his rockin’ body if they saw it without being adequately prepared, so in panel two he’s thrown on a Hawaiian shirt that covers up the guns and illustrates how fun and relaxed he is.

Dick Tracy, 7/23/09

Despite being quintessentially American in subject matter and politics, Dick Tracy is always on the verge of becoming some kind of Weimar-era expressionist film in tone and presentation, and the current plotline, in which Tracy’s daughter Bonnie Braids (really!) insists on taking her parents to the circus, is no exception; one assumes that “Here’s where the clown fires into the air and a surprise falls out of the sky” sounded less stilted in the original German. And anyone who finds clowns even slightly unsettling will be seeing panel two, in which a grim-faced, dead-eyed specimen cocks his gaily painted musket at the ready, in their dreams for weeks to come.

Mark Trail, 7/23/09

The orange-clad Mark Trail assassin in the current storyline may not be the brightest guy in the world, but I have to say that I like his style. There’s something that might tip off the cops to his identity? YOU BETTER BELIEVE HE’S GONNA SET THAT SHIT ON FIRE! I can’t wait to see what he does when he realizes he left a witness to his latest crime alive; we’ll see if Mark’s extremely wooden speech style means that he’s actually made of wood, and thus particularly flammable.

Family Circus, 7/23/09

And with that, the printed material allowed inside the Keane Kompound was further limited; now only the Bible and issues of Reader’s Digest published before 1989 would be permitted.

UPDATE: Oh my goodness, I almost forgot to add: BID ON this Ziggy cake pan on eBay! It appears that any cake made in this pan will more closely resemble E.T. than Ziggy, but whatever. ONLY FOUR HOURS LEFT!

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Family Circus, 7/19/09

You might have noticed the title of the book Big Daddy Keane is reading to his little ankle-biters, Rat and Pig Get Lost, which is an installment in a good-natured back and forth between the Family Circus and Pearls Before Swine. More intriguing, though, is what this cartoon reveals about the Keane Kids: not only are they illiterate, but they can’t even sit still to be read aloud to, and rather will wander in the direction of the hypnotic, glowing picture box, the better to move their brains past their current gelatinous state and straight on into liquidity.

Mary Worth, 7/19/09

While this installment might seem to be taking place immediately on the heels of yesterday’s, with Mary tidying up and thought-ballooning like mad and Delilah wandering aimlessly around the grounds, note that both ladies have changed into completely different (though still hideous) outfits, so this could be days or months later. But apparently enough time has passed that Delilah is finally ready to make a call … to her dealer, if her freakishly enlarged pupils are any indication.

Slylock Fox, 7/19/09

The main mystery panel in today’s strip is fairly bland — another fox-mouse double date leading up to some drunken partner-swapping that the radical differences in size will make incredibly awkward — but I’m pretty intrigued by the scene over in Six Differences. Are the woodland herbivores engaging in some kind of Druid ritual to call down a lightning strike against their predator-enemy, the terrible wolf? I hope the pagan magic will keep the beavers safe, as I’m not sure the open water is the best place to be in a thunderstorm.

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Apartment 3-G, 7/15/09

CONFUSING TIMES IN APARTMENT 3-G! It seems that Tim Mills, brother to Margo’s touch piece/maybe future fiance Eric Mills, is the American whom the Dalai Lama has trotted out in this Dharamsala press conference/dog-and-pony show. Last we saw of Eric, he was leading a younger lama to freedom over the Himalayas. Where is Eric now? Who is shouting “TIM” with three exclamation points of loudness off-panel? And, crucially, what is it that has blown Margo’s mind so completely and utterly? Surely it can’t be Tim’s rescue, or even his reunion with his wife, who is no doubt the “TIM!!!”-shouter, as those people are not Margo, nor people from whom Margo wants something. My guess is she has spotted some gorgeous trinkets on sale in a local market stall, which she intends to buy in bulk on her father’s credit card and resell back in New York at a healthy markup.

Spider-Man, 7/15/09

Meanwhile, Wolverine snuck backstage after Mary Jane’s terrible play to attempt to mack on her, then backed off as soon as Peter Parker showed up in his bad-ass leather jacket. Now, after some showy poor-lonely-me-ing, it appears he’s at least going to get a three-way out of it; his look of self-loathing in the final panel shows that he never really expected this maneuver to work, and now isn’t sure if he can go through with it. Was this how X-Men Origins: Wolverine went? Because I’m beginning to see why it didn’t meet ticket sales expectations.

Blondie, 7/15/09

Oh, Blondie, when you’ve been married to someone for 72 years or whatever, you no longer have to say ludicrous self-esteem-boosting things that neither you nor your partner believe to have a shred of a basis in reality, such as your proposal that Dagwood might have “a shot at being a V.P. some day.” Driving an car shaped like an enormous phallus and shilling for nitrate-lousy grade F meat is pretty much the apex of what dignity he’s capable of achieving, so why not let him run with his dream?

Family Circus, 7/15/09

Out of curiosity, legally speaking, what age is the boundary between “cute li’l tyke running around naked” and “pervert who can be arrested for indecent exposure”? Can we lower it to whatever age Jeffy is supposed to be, retroactively?

Marmaduke, 7/15/09

Oh, look, a “topical” reference to the water landing of US Airways flight 1549, a mere six months after the fact! Of course, no lives were lost in that miraculous incident; I doubt we’ll be able to say the same for the aftermath of Marmaduke’s splashdown into this pool full of delicious children.