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Family Circus, 8/20/08

Billy is continuing to tear his swath of contempt through our nation’s capital, and I for one couldn’t be happier. Today, we see that the New 21st Century Man, his soul purged of all feelings of patriotism or sentimentality or historical awe by the cleansing fires of our violent, amoral world, is incapable of understanding what emotions these monuments from a dying culture are meant to evoke, seeing only their physical properties and none of their symbolism. Jeffy, still too young to comprehend the hellscape that he will inherit from his elders, apes their belief that these piles of dead stone still mean something, and wordlessly holds a picture of the grotesque phallus that the Victorians somehow thought would honor America’s long-dead first leader.

Beetle Bailey, 8/20/08

Speaking of grotesque phalluses, there are few better illustrations of the term “creepster” than General Halftrack gazing rapturously heavenward as he imagines the erotic shenanigans that his young secretary is committing to her journal. Hopefully he’ll at least get into his office and get the door shut before he starts pleasuring himself.

Judge Parker, 8/20/08

NOOOOOOO! NOT THE CELL PHONE! WHY, GOD, WHY? Cut down in the prime of its battery life … *sob*

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Slylock Fox, 8/17/08

Oh, sure, the main puzzle in today’s Slylock at first glance seems like it could take place in any abandoned house being used as a hideout by a criminal gorilla; it’s a common story, what with the recent spike in home foreclosures and downsizing at local primate houses. But check out that portrait hanging by the door: that’s none other than Mr. Mark Trail. I think it’s pretty clear that Harry Ape is holed up in the house where Kelly Welly spent her sad, final years. Having lost the good looks that allowed her to bend men to her will, and alienated her friends by her constant foolishness, she was left with nothing but her picture of her one true love; she spent the last days of her life alone, throwing chicken bones on the floor and propping up her crumbling furniture with cinder blocks. It’s quite sad, really.

Family Circus, 8/17/08

I was going to say that there could be no greater horror than the concept of “water sports” as applied to the Keane Kids, but then I got a load of the actual panel so entitled. While we are treated to a hint of Billy Ass, at least we are spared any glimpse of Little Billy. Thank God for Newton’s First Law of Motion, as it applies to dangly bits.

In the “hurdles” panel, Mom is clearly either going kick Jeffy right in the ribcage or go sprawling onto the stovetop; I vote for the former, as that will learn him to loll around in front of pots spewing out ominous black smoke. Also, “wrestling” appears to be code for “beating the living crap out of Daddy.” Even the animals are getting in on the savage assault.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/17/08

Rex is looking pretty chipper in panel four, presumably because he’s totally intrigued by the concept of separate vacations. “If taking vacations apart is good for a marriage, maybe spending all our time apart will be even better!” But by the final panel, he’s looking very, very sad indeed. “Damn it, it’s awkward enough avoiding sexual advances from my wife; I don’t want to have to deal with this at work, too!”

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Family Circus, 8/14/08

If you asked me what my favorite Family Circus character is, I’d say, “Aarrgh, what are you talking about? I hate all of those hideous melonheads with a burning white-hot passion!” But if you held a gun to my head and said, “Look, pick a favorite Family Circus character or I’ll blow your brains out”, I’d have to go with Angry Billy, and today’s strip is a good demonstration of why. I love his petulant, contemptuous facial expression. And he’s right to be bitter: he alone among the Keane Kids is old enough to realize that this is just more education disguised as “fun,” and yet he’s still at least four years too young to go boozing and whoring with dad after Mommy falls asleep.

Mary Worth, 8/14/08

Bad: Toby referring to this boring, mass-produced DVD that she purchased on the Internet as “the fruits of my search.”

Worse: The strip letterers putting “the fruits of my search” in bold italics, so there’s no human way not to fixate on it and realize how awkward and horrible it is. “The fruits of my search!” Aarrrrgh.

Pluggers, 8/14/08

If this is a plugger lifeguard, you’re probably wondering, who exactly saves you from drowning on a plugger beach? What, do you expect some taxpayer-subsidized elitist swimmer to haul you out of the water just because you’re about to sink into the ocean and die? Why don’t they just drive out there in a limo and serve you champagne while you’re at it?

Wizard of Id, 8/14/08

I like how this strip starts off being about soul-scraping loneliness, and yet only two panels later finishes up with a terrible, corny pun about lily pads.