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Garfield, 6/29/06

Step 1: Garfield contracts avian flu.

Step 2: Avian flu passes from Garfield to Jon.

Step 3: Garfield dies.

Step 4: Humanity wiped out.

Frankly, I would say Step 4 is a small price to pay for Step 3.

Judge Parker, 6/29/06

Who knew Judge Parker was so lousy with weird alien cults? Randy has only just extracted himself from the clutches of Mimi — High Priestess CEO of the suspiciously Scientology-esque “Eon” — but now we find out that Horace’s wife has the freakishly robotic name “Alpha.” Presumably Horace himself will soon change his name to “Beta,” with children named “Gamma” and “Delta” to follow. Beware, Randy, beware!

As for Judge Parker himself, with his unnaturally stripey hair, I’m not sure he’s to be fully trusted by Earth-based humans either.

I’m quite looking forward to Horace making an appearance on the new JP artist’s watch. For those of you who don’t remember, this freak is Horace:

Yeah, try drawin’ that guy looking halfway normal, Mr. Skilled Artist Man!

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Garfield, 3/23-4/06

I never really thought I’d say this, but … I’ve suddenly become quite concerned about Garfield. The whole Garfield-and-Jon-eat-at-a-restaurant schtick is on the one hand a blessed relief from the usual mind-numbing sameness of the strip, though it may herald things going seriously awry. Yesterday’s installment is pretty much par for the Garfield course — Garfield’s fat, you see, and loves to eat, so the thought that he didn’t have room for desert is laughable. Of course, the laughing seems a little … off, what with the mouths gaping open and the spit flying and what not. Today, the laughing continues, in a way that would make no sense unless you had read the previous day. The waiter (who’s freakier and freakier looking every time I look at him) joins in. And it’s not joyful laughter either. No. It’s discomfort-making laughter. Crazy person laughter. Disturbing laughter. Did someone release nitrous oxide into the air supply over at Paws, Inc.? I sort of want to know, but I much more sort of don’t want to know, what’s in store.

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Garfield, 8/20/05

My personal curmudgeonly opinion is that the less said about the 75th anniversary Blondie mutual wank-a-thon, the better, but I feel compelled to drag Saturday’s Garfield out to help illustrate why comics characters drawn by different artists shouldn’t be put in close proximity to one another. Because I’ve been reading Garfield pretty much since I achieved rudimentary literacy, but it wasn’t until I saw Jon next to Dagwood that I realized that OH MY GOD HE HAS NO NOSE! I MEAN, LOOK AT HIM! HIS ENORMOUS, BULBOUS EYES ARE JUST SITTING DIRECTLY ABOVE HIS UPPER LIP! SWEET JESUS CHRIST THAT’S CREEPY! I’m sure the architects of this huge crossoverfest were looking to instill a sense of “warm and fuzzy” in their readers; for me, anyway, they got “aesthetically unsettled” instead.