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Beetle Bailey, 3/5/09

Our soldiers are refusing to take performance-enhancing drugs, like steroids, because they prefer non-performance-enhancing drugs, like heroin.

Blondie, 3/5/09

Dagwood’s transformation into a Howard Hughes-style, urine-jar-storing shut-in begins today.

Dennis the Menace, 3/5/09

“Plus you keep downloading viruses from all those porn sites.”

(Possibly more menacing alternative: “Plus I keep downloading viruses from all those porn sites.”)

Family Circus, 3/5/09

Jeffy finds himself encrusted with filth with such depressing regularity that he has established some sort of rating system for it.

Hi and Lois, 3/5/09

Hi and Lois is attempting to match Ziggy’s patented brand of second-rate empty-background existentialist absurdism — and, sadly, coming up fairly short.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/3/09

So, obviously, the current Rex Morgan, M.D., storyline became boring to me once it stopped being about hot barely closeted nautical action and instead turned into something about, I dunno, medicine-y stuff. Still, I am charmed by this old Mrs. Dunsmore, who is apparently British, and her imperial nostalgia. “Yes, if there’s one group that knows how to run a quarantine, it’s the Brits! Comes from being an island people, you see. We’ll be kept just off shore by polite and heavily armed guards, and occasionally be airlifted crates of digestive biscuits and blood pudding to eat; if the virus rages out of control, of course, they’ll just set the boat on fire with all of us still on it, nodding their heads sagely as we scream for mercy and saying ‘Bit of a sticky wicket, eh wot? Still, had to be done, I suppose. Say, d’you think we have time to catch the Test Match?'”

Pluggers, 3/3/09

Though pluggers are incapable of adequately planning ahead for retirement, their suicide preparations are remarkably meticulous.

Family Circus, 3/3/09

BITE, PJ! DO IT! BITE BITE BITE!

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Slylock Fox, 3/1/09 (portion) and 3/2/09

First off, an apology: while scanning Sunday’s strips for entertainment value, I somehow managed to completely miss an appearance by my hero, Reeky Rat, in which he is actually innocent of the crime of which he is accused! He’s still guilty of wearing a hideous yellow sweater that in no way lives up to his awesome fashion potential, and of befouling the snow-covered dirt patch in front of his trailer, but if the plot on which a man has parked his trailer (the rent on which is less than sixty days overdue) is not his castle, where he can dress and litter as he pleases, then what rights remain to us in this country? Reeky’s small-type, upside-down exoneration may be a first for the Slylock Fox rogues gallery, and presumably this is all the excuse Slylock needs to stop going to down to the trailer park altogether and just let its denizens dish out brutal justice to one another with their crude homemade weaponry.

That should clear up lots of time in his schedule for episodes like today’s, in which our detective heads over to the gym to creepily stare at the patrons and employees in their little short shorts. What, do you work for the FDA now, Fox? I’m sure Buford can produce some kind of corporate-sponsored study proving that regular bowel movements are an important part of any muscle-building regimen.

Archie, 3/2/09

The main joke in today’s Archie indicates nothing more than that the AJGLU 3000’s anti-lawsuit module has been given far too much priority over its other humor functions (THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT LUCKY CHARMS® BRAND CEREAL FROM GENERAL MILLS I ALONE DARE SAY THIS), but I am amused by Archie’s father’s mug, which reads “#2 DAD.” It’s possible that our charming joke-generating machine, in its cold mechanical logic, doesn’t see why 2 would be much inferior to 1 on a scale of 0 to infinity and means this as a compliment, but I prefer to believe that it has finally learned the importance of poop jokes.

A more sobering revelation comes on the milk carton in the second panel, which tells us that Jughead has been kidnapped, possibly after having been lured into a creepy van by a trail of hamburgers.

Family Circus, 3/2/09

“I mean it, our children are lazy little turds, lying there on the floor sullenly mashing mass-manufactured pieces of plastic crap together for hours on end. Just the very sight of them sickens me. I sincerely hope you bought the toys that are known choking hazards, like I asked you to.”

Dick Tracy, 3/2/09

“The oil companies will make him a rich man … for keeping his mouth shut, after they bury that formula in a very, very deep hole.”

Marmaduke, 3/2/09

“I don’t mind too much, though, because this way I can’t really feel the pooling urine.”