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Family Circus and Marvin, 2/27/08

Marvin and the Family Circus have apparently decided to keep hammering home these appalling running gags until we beg for mercy. Well, I’m officially begging. Please stop. Please?

Of today’s entries, I find the Family Circus more baffling and disturbing. It seems fairly unlikely that any normal child — or even a Keane Kid — would have the slightest interest in CNN’s resident deranged, babbling 97-year-old talk show host, or even the vaguest idea as to who he is. There’s also something unsettling about the sight of anyone — even a snowman — wearing suspenders but no pants; in particular, the fact that they seem to be affixed to his naked hips implies some kind of kinky piercing situation that believe me, you don’t want to contemplate really at all but especially in terms of Larry King.

Meanwhile, Marvin’s ongoing “Belly Laffs” horror has made the subtle shift from “You know you’re pregnant when you occupy more volume than usual” to “You know you’re pregnant when your mass increases.”

Funky Winkerbean, 2/27/08

“You know what else is expanding rather aggressively? The angle of my legs! Check out Funky’s Winkerbean, baby. You know you want it.”

Apartment 3-G, 2/27/08

By coincidence, Margo’s dialog in panel three is also pretty much the sum total of her foreplay techniques.

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Apartment 3-G, 2/24/08

Too often, drunks get bad raps in the comics, and, for that matter, in life in general. But in panel three of today’s Apartment 3-G, Alan shows his serious side, exhibiting the grim determination needed to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible, and blot out whatever ill-defined pain he’s trying to blot out. He’s showing that no matter what obstacles he’ll have to overcome in the process, he’s going to drink the hell out that booze, and he will get blasted, as God as his witness, and he’ll never … be sober … again!

Funky Winkerbean, 2/23/08

Speaking of drunks, I’m pleased that all pretense of Funky Winkerbean title character Funky Winkerbean being sympathetic are finally being cast aside. I look forward to future installments in which we see the dark secrets behind Montoni’s successful rise to nationwide megachain: slave labor conditions, pizzas preassembeled in factories in Laos then frozen in liquid nitrogen for shipment overseas, and “pepperoni” made out of God knows what, intercut with scenes of Funky lighting cigars with hundred-dollar bills.

Shoe, 2/24/08

Ha! It’s funny because … oh, wait, did I say “funny”? I meant “vile beyond description.”

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Funky Winkerbean, 2/19/08

“So, how come you’re named Funky Winkerbean and not something non-giggle-inducing?”

You know, if I were the writer from Pizza and Calzone Restaurateur Monthly, I’d be less concerned with Funky’s branding strategy and more with his inhumanly broad smirk, which is splitting his cheek most of the way to his ear. He appears to be preparing to tip the top of his head back completely like a Pez dispenser so that he can cram the reporter lady and the photographer down his esophagus in a single gulp.

Reporter lady might be forgiven for assuming that “Montoni” is a whimsical mascot like Uncle Ben or Bob’s Big Boy and not an actual person who once dished out pizza and wisecracks from behind the counter. I believe that it’s been mentioned in passing post-time-jump that he’s retired to Florida someplace. Since this is Funky Winkerbean, he’s presumably living out the end of his life in a cut-rate, urine-scented nursing home, desperately lonely and wondering why none of his former employees or neighbors whose social lives revolved around his restaurant ever come to visit.

Mary Worth, 2/19/08

And now the circle of meddling is … complete. “Drew, your father flew to Vietnam and did some very rewarding work there until it almost killed him and I made him come home! Why don’t you follow in his footsteps? Except in your case, you’ll be dying alone, since we’ve already established that nobody loves you enough to come and rescue you!”

Momma, 2/19/08

I’m pretty sure that today’s Momma is about bird-fucking. I was trying to come up with something funny to say about it, but then I decided it pretty much stands on its own.

Pluggers, 2/19/08

A plugger cares about our natural environment only to the extent that he can chop it up and set it on fire.