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Gil Thorp, 5/5/08

Well well well, look who’s turned out to be the Mudlarks’ chief nativist! It’s Andrew Gregory, who, I feel obliged to point out, wasn’t such a law-and-order type back when he had a half-drunk Marty Moon pretending to be his father for the benefit of a state social worker. Did Marty’s attempt to teach him the importance of sticking it to the man come to naught? I guess in the A-Train’s hierarchy of faceless, dysfunctional government bureaucracies, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement gets an “honor and obey”, while Social Services rates a “go ahead and mess around with.”

I’m hoping that Marty, flush with his victory in the battle to help underaged Andrew half-competently raise his young siblings without interference from the government, decides to take on Homeland Security for Elmer’s sake. I’m imagining him wearing a huge sombrero and a poncho and spouting quasi-Spanish gibberish like “No es bueno!” and “No mas!” and “Hasta la vista, baby!” It won’t help Elmer at all, of course, but it’ll be hilarious.

Family Circus, 5/5/08

Wow, the Keane Kompound has the most boring wall calendar ever. I guess when your strict religious beliefs regard any depiction of humans, animals, or plants as sin against the Creator, all you’ve got do to entertain yourself is make up sad little stories about the names of the months.

I also question the wisdom of giving a long, pointy stick to a six-year-old, or however old Dolly is supposed to be. At least she’ll probably use it against others, not herself; if Jeffy were wielding it, it’d be buried in his eye in no time.

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 5/5/08

For reasons that I can’t quite verbalize, and hopefully don’t have to, Alan’s thought-balloon whinge in today’s Apartment 3-G was hands-down the funniest thing in the comics section today.

Spider-Man, 5/5/08

…although “Crime-fighting and the flu don’t mix” was a close second. In other developments, we learn that, in his BDSM relationship with his wife, Peter is a bottom. Nobody is surprised.

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First, on Friday I got a mysterious box in the mail. What could it be? A bomb? A container of anthrax? None of these, it turned out! Instead, it was fabulous commemorative Family Circus plate from faithful reader Krazy Kat!

The lovable Keane Kids are rolling around in the leftover detritus of an orgy of Christmas consumption, while their parents are passed out exhausted on the couch, hoping that at least one of them will choke to death on a small toy part so that there’ll be less shopping to do next year. Thanks, Krazy Kat!

(By the way, does anyone know if you can actually eat off these commemorative plate dealies? I’ve heard a rumor that the paint on them is often lead or something equally unpleasant.)

Also! Faithful reader Harold, maker of several fonts, has developed one based on the lettering of former Gil Thorp artist Frank McLaughlin! Behold, Ohmigosh! Perhaps the new artist can swap it in for Comic Sans? It can be yours for a mere $30!

Also also! Faithful reader KT has completed his Comics Curmudgeon Get-Together cartoon diary. There are photos too!

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Dick Tracy, 4/30/08

Yes, you might say poetic justice, if in fact there were any poetic justice in the situation whatsoever. I suppose Cole Lector was rich, but it’s not as if Dab Stract or the police are going to be handing over his money and geegaws to the poor now that he’s been killed. In fact, the whole notion of redistribution of wealth ought to make Dick so righteously angry that he’d grab that Red bow out of Dab Stract’s hands and break it over his knee, just like he would snap that Commie Robin Hood’s spine, if he could lay his hands on him. The only possible answer is that Dick is not in fact listening to a word Dab Stract or anyone else is saying, and is just interjecting random tough-guy bon mots whenever he becomes vaguely aware that there’s a lull in the conversation. It would explain a lot about the disjointed dialogue in this strip.

Crankshaft, 4/30/08

Ha ha! Crankshaft’s an angry old man that nobody likes, and he’s about to be stung all over his face by bees! Oh, it doesn’t take much to warm the cockles of my black, black heart.

Family Circus, 4/30/08

“Well, there has to be some reason. For starters, it would help if I liked you.”