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Gil Thorp, 5/2/09

Like any comic strip plot involving the YouTube and other newfangled computery whosits, our current Gil Thorp storyline will, it appears, be all about the idiocy of the Kids Today. Specifically, this plotline’s two designated assclowns, whose names I categorically refuse to look up, have been driven mad with fame-lust after witnessing Coach Thorp’s rise to accidental head-bonking YouTube stardom. Now they themselves will attempt to make it in the highly lucrative world of videotaped injuries, which is indicative of the Warped Values that the Youth have, as a result of the Internet. They should instead be enjoying solid, wholesome, character-building activities like competitive athletics, where if you injure yourself it will only be because you are giving 110 percent, and only a few dozen people will see it, unless you make it to the pros.

The fact that the title character of Napoleon Dynamite appears unbidden as the low-rent videographer in the first panel indicates the youth-scolding agenda of this comic. That piece of young-person-beloved hipster indie cinema baffles and angers the exact same set of people who are baffled and angered by YouTube antics, so why not roll them all together into one big ball of contempt for people under the age of thirty? It’s not like any of them read the newspaper anyway.

Funky Winkerbean, 5/2/09

Ha ha, so remember the other day when I said “bring it on” to the ménage à séance and the like? Well, uh, it turns out that I’m all talk. So, um, no more with the dead wife crying ghostly tears of ghost joy as her husband makes out with his new girlfriend, OK? Please? I … I apologize, I swear, just, you know, make it stop.

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Funky Winkerbean, 5/1/09

Admit it, all of you: you would be disappointed if Dead Lisa did not occasionally manifest herself during Les’s attempts to court Cayla. It adds an element of the macabre to an otherwise low-key and fairly dull romance between two middle-aged single parents. In fact, since romantic intrusion from the spirit plane is inevitable, let’s take it all the way. I want to see the Ghost of Lisa on every single one of Les and Cayla’s dates. I want to see her feeding him romantic lines, like in Cyrano de Bergerac, only Cyrano and Christian used to be married, and Cyrano is dead. I want to see Zombie Lisa there in the bedroom, eager to help Les with necessary corrections to his sexual techniques that she was too shy to speak up about in life, which will ironically result in his inability to maintain an erection. BRING IT ON, FUNKY WINKERBEAN.

It really is good for Les that Cayla likes Woody Allen movies, by the way, because it shows that she has a certain tolerance for exasperating neurotics.

Apartment 3-G, 5/1/09

Good lord, will this Apartment 3-G storyline ever cease handing out wonderful gifts to all of us? Today’s heart-warming moment is a cop saying “You’ve been a bad boy, Dr. Kelly” while waggling an index finger scoldingly. Is he speaking in a comical Irish brogue, as his circa 1940 uniform would suggest? God, I hope so.

Sally Forth, 5/1/09

I’m pretty sure that Ted thinks Sally said “titter.”

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Mary Worth, 4/28/09

You know what would be awesome? If the “police” who “arrested” Ted are really his accomplices, and the “police station” Adrian is sitting in is a rented warehouse, and they’re all setting her up for some kind of mind-blowing long con that goes far beyond some petty “Oh my sister is in deep with the mob I need $50K” child’s play.

You know would be boring and trite? If Adrian found true love with this handsome blond police officer, who is certainly not some sinister pervert from the Internet. But that is almost certainly what we’re going to get.

Apartment 3-G, 4/28/09

Margo is taken aback by Mrs. Bloom’s stun gun because in her martial philosophy, violence committed with mechanical or electronic aids is dishonorable. Even using something like an umbrella as a club is acceptable only when your target is just out of range; Margo has now cast it aside and is preparing to disembowel the immobilized Dr. Kelly with her bare hands.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/28/09

“I think that if we were dating, I wouldn’t keep using my employee discount to buy you dinner at this terrible pizza place.”