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Apartment 3-G and Judge Parker, 10/22/08

Today we have an object lesson on how two comic strip characters can be in remarkably similar scenarios and yet evoke very different reactions from their audience. Both Sam and Margo are talking about what a “tough day” they’ve had because they’ve been minorly inconvenienced as a result of being on the periphery of the brutal murder of somebody else’s loved one; yet Margo is of course loved and adored by millions of fans, whereas if anyone thinks about Sam at all, it’s something along the lines of “Oh, look, it’s that smug dick in the sunglasses.” That’s because Margo has the good sense to take things really, really over the top — bad-mouthing her bereaved roommate, deliberately dropping inappropriate metaphors, making it all about HER HER HER, just like everything else that happens within a ten-mile radius of her or anybody that she knows — whereas Sam is, well, just being a smug dick in sunglasses, as per usual. Sunglasses and a stupid vest.

Crock, 10/22/08

Let’s say that you run a major syndicate that, among other things, produces hilarious and engaging comic strips. And let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you have reason to hire people to color said comic strips who are for some reason not the same people who draw those comic strips in the first place. Now, because your strips are so hilarious and engaging, those professional colorists may well be wont to read them and be amused and/or engaged by them in the course of their duties. But if they take a few seconds to chortle under their breath or nod knowingly while on the clock, they are literally stealing from you, obviously, because you’re paying them while they’re engaged in what’s clearly a leisure-time activity. What to do, then? The solution is plainly to only hire colorists who (a) hate comics so much that they refuse to read them, (b) don’t speak English, or (c) are illiterate. And if that means that sometimes blatant in-strip color cues go ignored, well, that’s just the price you pay for running a tight ship, you know?

Herb and Jamaal, 10/22/08

So, are Internet service providers the new post office, not only in the sense of “organizations that deliver information from your home anywhere else in the world for a mere pittance”, but in the sense of “and can you believe how slow it is! Ha ha! And how about that airline food, ladies and gentlemen, am I right?”

I know that the back of this weird panda-faced dude’s cab is just one of the eight or so Places In Herb And Jamaal Where Jokes Occur, and the beauty of the strip’s setup is that any joke can plugged into any of those places, but might I be so bold as to suggest that perhaps the punchline might have been better if it involved the slow pace of the cab’s journey to Herb’s destination? Or, you know, Internet providers, whatever, and hey, men and women, they sure have different views on relationships, don’t they? Ha! Boy howdy!

Family Circus, 10/22/08

“Or are you dead? Mommy says that if you’re dead, we can have gin and ice cream for dinner every night, forever!”

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Apartment 3-G, 10/21/08

It looks like Apartment 3-G, having made drug abuse and murder bland and vaguely boring, is about to do the same for China’s meddling in Tibetan monastic politics. Remember how Eric was supposed to be rescuing his brother from some combination Tibetan temple/hospital/Chinese prison thingy in Lhasa, or something? Apparently he took this Lodi character instead, which we may or may not have been told at the time? Lodi, I am assuming, is a stand-in for Gedhun Choekyi Nyima, who was chosen as Panchen Lama as a child with the Dalai Lama’s blessing; he and his family were taken out of Tibet by the Chinese government and haven’t been seen since, while the government has nominated its own candidate for the post. Gedhun/Lodi seems to be none the worse for wear for his time as a political prisoner, having learned valuable English and hiking skills. The question is, can he retain his sense of detachment from desire and suffering upon encountering the ultimate threat to any holy man: Margo Magee?

Family Circus, 10/21/08

It’s obviously unsettling that the Keanes have some kind of gargantuan microwave that can heat up an entire full-sized pizza, though that may explain why Billy thinks that nuking food qualifies as “making” it. Poor Jeffy is once again stuck with the being-baffled-by-everyday-slang role usually reserved for comical foreigners, robots and aliens, and dorky white dudes. But what really gets me about this cartoon is the drooping tip of Billy’s pizza. I imagine that he’s gesticulating with the slice, the tip flopping up and down as he does so, grease splattering everywhere. I think that it would be pretty hypnotic to watch; no doubt that’s what Mommy is focusing on, which is why she looks so beatific despite being surrounded by morons.

Luann, 10/21/08

“I mean, Toni never talks about him, but he hangs around in my mind … brawny … vaguely threatening … half-dressed…”

Mary Worth, 10/21/08

Oh, Dr. Jeff, always so bad at strategy. If you’re going to try to escape Mary’s clutches, you don’t announce it. You just leave town the minute she walks out the door. You can set her condo on fire on your way out if it would make you feel better.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/21/08

Ha ha, Rex is grinding something! Get it, because … ha ha … grinding … oh, what’s the use.

Based on Sarah’s weird, distorted face in the final panel, I’m guessing the wind is so strong and the boats are tilting because they’ve accidentally wandered into a nuclear weapons test site. Soon everyone will be killed in a ball of flame, which will at least alleviate the boredom of watching a sailboat race.

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Crock, 10/19/08

I’m not sure which thought is more disturbing: that this is some sort of metaphor for pubic hair depilation, or that it’s a straightforward and genuinely insane comic about cactuses having sex.

Family Circus, 10/19/08

In order to keep Jeffy pure, his parents are sheltering him from troubling concepts such as “genitals.”

Slylock Fox, 10/19/08

Oh, Cassandra, isn’t trying to worm your way out of speeding tickets kind of beneath you? For that matter, isn’t stopping speeders kind of beneath the chief of police? Look, just show some leg, thus disabling the part of Chief Mutt’s brain that can do math, and we can all forget that any of this ever happened.

Panel from Blondie, 10/19/08

This is way more than I ever wanted to know about Mr. Dithers’ personal life.