Post Content

Judge Parker, 12/15/07

Good lord, didn’t we polish off this Randy-runs-for-judge storyline more than a year ago, when Randy’s opponent was revealed to have a alcoholic wife and to thus be unsuitable for the bench? Even presidential elections don’t drag out this long. Since then, Randy has clearly been zapped with some kind of dignifying ray, what with his more mature, slightly lined face and sudden penchant for vests. Apparently people don’t want their judges looking like twelve-year-olds.

Still, the fact that Randy’s campaign poster was printed over in “Parkersburg” reveals the Turkmenbashi-style cult of personality that the Parkers hold over this part of the country. With whole towns named after his family, it seems doubtful that anyone could keep Randy from the judgeship that’s been promised him since birth. Voters trudging to the polls under the watchful gaze of the forty-foot-tall golden statue of Judge Parker Senior will know what to do if they want to make it home alive.

Funky Winkerbean, 12/15/07

Boy, ten years have sure allowed Mopey Pete to hone his lady-wooing prowess. Because if there’s one thing a woman looks for in a potential sexual partner, it’s a hand so cramped as to interfere with fine motor control skills.

Family Circus, 12/15/07

This comic probably would have been funnier (though not actually funny per se) if it had been published at some time other than the dead of winter. “It’s called the scream door because when they lock us outside in the snow, we scream through it begging for them to let us back in. Generally they can’t hear us, though, because the inside door is closed and they’re in the living room watching TV.”

They’ll Do It Every Time, 12/16/07

Another TDIET from a faithful reader! Today, the Great Ka-Floopa Gush reminds us of those halcyon days of youth, when institutionalized schooling was so dreadful that the sweet embrace of unconsciousness was preferable.

Post Content

Gil Thorp, 12/3/07

“Yeah, we could probably test it at Tilden … by why not just keep failing spectacularly with the offense that was terrible before we stopped practicing it? Since we already have no chance to make the playdowns, there’s no point in having fun or trying hard in any of our remaining games. A healthy diet of humiliation will have our boys all the more eager to pull their half-assed Wing T trickery against Valley Tech!”

Meanwhile… Marty Moon suddenly realizes the free press’s obligation to challenge the Putinesque dictatorship of Coach Thorp’s athletic administration. Unfortunately, he’s eight weeks behind teenaged dim bulbs Howard and Tony in mining the Google for useful anti-Gil ammunition. Presumably old-school radio man Marty usually avoids the Web and has been waiting for this whole “Internet” fad to blow over, but recently discovered that you can buy booze there.

Apartment 3-G, 12/3/07

Dizziness … giddiness … elevated heart rate … shortness of breath … Nurse Thompson carefully reviewed the symptoms in her mind, thinking back to her medical training to try to come up with a correct diagnosis. Could it have been the one syndrome that wasn’t in her dusty textbooks: sexual arousal? Or maybe it was an asthma attack. Yes, that seemed more likely.

Funky Winkerbean, 12/3/07

That right there, if I’m guessing correctly, is Mopey Pete, erstwhile persecuted high school dork and comics artist, spurned by best friend Darrin when the latter started dating a hot girl. According to Funkywinkerbean.com, post-time-jump Pete is now a successful writer for Marvel Comics. For what purpose has he returned to WinkerLand? I imagine that he’s breathing in the heady smell of Montoni’s pizza before he walks into the restaurant and starts unloading ammunition into everyone who ever wronged him.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/3/07

“You sit over there, under daddy’s whore picture. That’s the whore chair. For whores like you.”

Post Content

Mary Worth, 11/7/07

Possible explanations for the utterly laughable “dog x-ray” on display in the first panel:

• Mary Worth’s vet has an enormous CT scanning device that allows for the creation of a full-body scan of a midsized dog, which is then shrunk down so much as to be completely illegible.
• To save money, the vet just photocopies animals instead of x-raying them, arguing that it’s “basically the same technology.”
• The dog is pregnant, and that’s a sonogram of its tiny dog fetus.
• The dog and the vet are in on some kind of elaborate scam — dog plays dead by the side of the road, vet shows of ambiguous fake x-ray, old biddy comes back with checkbook, and KA-CHING!
• Mary Worth may in fact not be wholly realistic in all respects.

Apartment 3-G, 11/7/07

Man, it really depresses me when a feisty woman tries to make herself over into a shrinking violet just to please some man who can’t even decide on his own hair color. Apparently even Margo can’t stand to see it, as she’s covering her eyes rather than watch her own undoing. Of course, it’s possible that she’s rigged the phone to detonate in Eric’s hand, and is just trying to keep from being blinded in the process.

(By the way, if you find the thought of “Apartment 3-G Alan/Sam slash fiction” even vaguely intriguing, you owe it to yourself to check out this comment from faithful reader SecretMargo.)

Mark Trail, 11/7/07

Uh oh! Li’l Paul Malotte just got cock-college-tuition-money-blocked. I imagine he’s going to stride into the trading post and forcefully confront Bull Malone about how his unethical competitive practices are hurting the reputation of the increasingly lucrative full-service guided camping package market. And because he’s wearing a baby blue fringy jacket with matching equestrian cap, it will be the funniest shit you’ll ever see in your life.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/7/07

“Yup! Sullen, passive-aggressive, and unhelpful! It’s uncanny!”