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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 8/10/08

Tarnation, look at the logo on that bag o’ grain on the porch in the final panel! It looks like Target, having saturated the suburbs with its big box stores, has decided to expand into America’s rural hollers and rustic shack-based communities.

Family Circus, 8/10/08

Oh, man, Mom, you do not want to look too closely at the front seat of that little car.

Funky Winkerbean, 8/10/08

I think it’s intriguing that what Summer took away from her mother’s message was not “Don’t get knocked up when you’re sixteen” but rather “Your dad has a good track record when it comes to dealing with teen pregnancy, so make sure he doesn’t die of prostate cancer before you inevitably get knocked up when you’re sixteen.” Nevertheless, in the first panel of the bottom row she does look appropriately horrified at the thought of her mom going at it with some dude in the back of a van.

Mark Trail, 8/10/08

OKAY, MARK, I’LL BE SURE TO INSPECT MY CAT FOR FLEAS! NOW CAN YOU PLEASE STOP SHOUTING?

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Momma, 8/4/08

Whoa there, Francis! Unless “cheese I can serve my buds” is code for “bud I can serve whatever cheep floozy I bring home tonight” and the gentleman behind the counter is the nattiest drug dealer outside of Apartment 3-G, you have officially lost your spot as the comics’ number one “bad boy” — I don’t care how cheap you are about it. Of course, everything else about this comic is puzzling as well. For instance, even the elitists at Whole Foods will sell you cheese for less than $14 a pound that would be wholly acceptable for a party with your loser friends in your filthy apartment. Then there’s the question of why the deli man offered you the cheapest kind in the first place, and … oh, wait, what was that? I’m sorry I’ve just been informed that the amount of time it’s considered healthy to think about Momma in any given 24-hour-period has long since elapsed. We’ll be moving on now.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/4/08

Just FYI, the long, turbulence-ridden, nausea-inducing flight towards the Lizthony union of souls is beginning its final descent. Do you like weddings? Do you like it when people realize that adventure is for other people and the best thing to do is be exactly like their boring parents? Do you like passive-aggressive emotional adulterers with clammy hands? Then the next three to eight weeks are for you, my friends.

Family Circus, 8/4/08

“And the brown liquors are best for numbing the humiliation you feel every time your freakish melon-headed grandchildren open their fool mouths!”

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Mary Worth, 8/3/08

Have any of the poor saps trapped in the bleak hell that is Mary Worth ever been set up for a fall as transparently as poor Toby has been over the past few days? I might feel a little pity for whatever identity theft drama that’s going to befall her as a result of handing out her credit card to whatever sort of greaseballs request it, if she weren’t so damn smug in her thought balloons. “Oooh, look at me, I understand that cash values in the modern economy can be treated as abstractions rather than amounts of actual, physical currency! I know how to look up things on Ian’s Enormoushop.com wish list! I’m the greatest wife — and greatest human being — in history!”

Speaking of smug, whatever ludicrous fraud-based hijinks go down over the next few weeks or months will at least feature Toby’s husband, which gets a big thumbs up from me. It’s been far, far too long since we’ve gotten to enjoy his bloviating chinbearded antics.

Family Circus, 8/3/08

Well, Billy, if the car “broke down” near the mall, your parents would have a harder time convincing the police that all of you were “accidentally” “eaten by coyotes.”

Funky Winkerbean, 8/3/08

Looks like another perpetually morose character is unable to stop thinking about his body’s early decay and eventual death, and is spreading the obsessive gloom to his still emotionally healthy daughter! Or, as we call it in Funky Winkerbean, “Sunday.”