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Gasoline Alley, 8/16/07

Those of you who only follow Gasoline Alley through this blog have probably been wondering, “Gee, what’s going on with Slim’s plan to keep his neighborhood racially pure by dropping thousands of pounds of metal onto a playground? I’m sure he’s totally stepped back from the brink by this point!” Well, I’m sad to report that not so much. In today’s strip, the deranged Vietnam Vet charged with actually perpetrating this vile crime muses grimly on the mercenary’s creed: once that check clears, you have a job to do, and it doesn’t matter how many flattened homes and crushed bodies you leave in your wake.

Gil Thorp, 8/16/07

Today’s Gil Thorp is nothing less than a divine symphony of severed limbs. You cannot convince me that any of the arms on display here are actually attached to the Thorpian quasihumans near whose heads they’re hovering — the scale and the angles are all wrong. Particularly baffling is the behemoth paw in panel one. Is Fu “Rap Sheet” Manchu supposed to be holding a TV remote? It seems unlikely: not only is the hand bigger than his head, but he’s only about eight inches away from the television set.

I love that, having been insulted, Coach Kaz calls his girlfriend to “check in” emotionally, only to be further taunted for his dimwittery. FEEL THE BURN, COACH! She’s not dating you for your mind; she only loves your hairy, hairy arms, and the furious fists at the end of them.

Marmaduke, 8/16/07

Like a lot of Marmadukes, this one doesn’t make any damn sense. It could be sort of fixed, though, if the caption were changed to “Your lap’s so nice, he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven!” Get it? Because with Marmaduke’s drooping extremities and slack features, it appears that this hapless woman has the enormous corpse of a Great Dane sprawled across her thighs!

Of course, we all know that, thanks to Marmaduke’s many sins, he won’t actually go to heaven when he dies.

Ziggy, 8/16/07

Looks like somebody doesn’t really understand what “computer dating” is all about. Hey, Tom II, get with the program! You can have your very own computer in your very own home these days! I don’t want to say this cartoon is entirely inaccurate, though: it is true that the only women who would deign to date Ziggy are in prison.

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Gasoline Alley, 7/27/07

For the last several years — or, oh, let’s say decades — Gasoline Alley has been guilty of crimes against humor, the comics medium, and its own storied history; the “Slim keeps his neighborhood white with a meteorite he bought on eBay” is only the latest outrage, though it is by no means the worst. Much of these transgressions are unforgivable, but perhaps we can accept as a mitigating factor the fact that this hippie/’Nam vet/militia type just referred to a course of action that might lead to incarceration as “jaily”, which may be the most delightful new adjective I’ve encountered all week. I don’t really live a life of danger on the edge of the law, but I will try to use the word “jaily” in conversation as often as possible — or, if circumstances dictate, “finey” or “community servicey”.

Gil Thorp, 7/27/07

Never mind Coach Kaz’s false modesty, or Kelly’s brutally honest assessment of his earning potential. What the hell happened to our soda jerker’s chin in panel one? It looks like he’s all bandaged up there. Did Kaz get him with an uppercut just to keep in practice for when the next drunken lout comes along? Or did he hit his chin on the counter when he emerged from the time vortex that brought him and his little paper hat here from 1958?

Mary Worth, 7/27/07

Dawn’s sitting on the world’s smallest saddle, but that’s OK because she’s also sitting on the world’s smallest horse. I’m no equestrianologist, but I’m pretty sure that a horse’s head is usually larger than a human’s head. I do note that you can’t see the horses from the withers down, which may indicate that they’re made of fiberglass, perched atop a giant spring, and sitting in front of a Wal-Mart.

Meanwhile, in panel one, Mary waves at a total stranger in a desperate attempt to stop talking to Wilbur.

Mark Trail, 7/27/07

Ohmygosh, do you think he’s going to release more birds soon? THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME!

Hey, everybody, my mom’s coming to visit for the weekend, so posts might be a little sparse on the ground for the next few days. COTWs coming on schedule Sunday, though, don’t you worry about it!

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Gil Thorp, 7/11/07

Ha ha! Oh, man, the Gil Thorp summer hijinks are getting started even more quickly than I could have hoped! I’m totally in love with Gail Martin, the “rock and roll Carole King,” as she was called yesterday; truly, nothing shouts “rock and roll” like a collared shirt and a long braid that you clutch dramatically to your chest while you belt out your non-hits and your banjo player grooves behind you. This looks exactly like the kind of scene where a brawl would break out, and I look forward to tomorrow’s weirdly proportioned and strangely angled fisticuffs. Since Kelly has a troubled past with guys with rage issues, this should provide excellent fuel for one of the eleven rapidly crosscut dramas that will be entertaining us until football practice starts up again.

Apartment 3-G, 7/11/07

Ruby’s dialogue says “funny Texan with more realistic ideals of beauty than these supposedly sophisticated New York City girls,” but her solemn expression in panel three, along with Tommie and Margo’s panicked exchange of glances, says “violent feederism.” In two weeks, look for the two of them to be tied to their chairs, their faces smeared with tangy barbecue sauce, begging for mercy, as Ruby says, “Nuh-uh, Maggie, you still only got one chin!”

Ziggy, 7/11/07

If you thought that the sight of a desperate, insane, bald dwarf with no pants jabbering about the dishonesty of inanimate objects while thrusting a fifteen-year-old household appliance at bemused service worker wouldn’t be funny, well, today’s Ziggy is here to be prove you wrong. I actually laughed aloud at this. Ziggy may continue to exist, as far as I’m concerned.

As I look at it more, I’m sort of hypnotized by the text in Ziggy’s word balloon. The symmetry between the sentence-initial “i” (lowercase, in defiance of all known typographical conventions) and the final exclamation mark, makes it look like he’s actually shouting “T lies!” in Spanish. Which, for my money, is even funnier.

Luann, 7/11/07

I’m only marginally less sick of Brad-Toni than I am of Curtis-Michelle, but this sequence is growing on me. If Toni ends up running off with uberskeeze TJ because of his cooking (or “cooking”) skills, I will be willing to forgive a lot that’s happened in the last few years.

Dick Tracy, 7/11/07

It just wouldn’t be Dick Tracy if the payoff didn’t include somebody writhing around in pain. This isn’t the optimistic fantasy land of Mark Trail; those eyes aren’t growing back.

Family Circus, 7/11/07

Hmm, what’s the most alarming part of this? Yeah, I’m going to have to say that it’s Big Daddy Keane’s little smile.

Gasoline Alley, 7/11/07

Gasoline Alley: the one comic strip that isn’t afraid to show you how the system is stacked against the white man.

Spider-Man, 7/11/07

In a strip that brought us such epic battles as Dr. Octopus vs. his television, Spidey vs. a bowl-hatted butler, Spidey vs. his own outdated ideas of economics and gender, and, of course Spidey vs. a brick, today’s struggle between J. Jonah Jameson and Larry King may represent a dramatic zenith.

And, finally, I’m sure sexy toast-eating is somebody’s fetish, so:

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/11/07

Go to town, perverts!