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Mary Worth, 3/22/10

Ladies and gentlemen, our long national frolic has ended, and just as we’d hoped — with a Charterstone pool party! Mary helpfully excuses Wilbur’s manic episode by reminding us his sensible lady friend Iris was out of town. But what can Mary mean by “returns”? Have her widows’ stocks declared dividends? Is Carlos Alora back on the job as groundskeeper? Dare we hope for Zombie Aldo? More likely, she just needs to get that copy of The Shorter Bartlett’s Quotations back to the library. Those fines add up.

9 Chickweed Lane, 3/22/10

One of the most annoying tendencies of serial strips is to sanctify characters until they lose all capacity for drama or comedy. Judge Parker‘s Sam Driver, Steve Roper, and Funky Winkerbean‘s bandleader Harry Dinkle has each in his turn been neutered, cast in plaster, and set up on a shelf for admiration in lieu of entertainment.

In its current story 9 Chickweed Lane — already in the running for most annoying strip in the history of ever — is going for a twofer. Mean-spirited bully Edna O’Malley (née Ernst) has already been recast as a dewy, chaste, ever-so-talented, misunderstood patriot. And here, in a single panel, her future husband is transformed from a lieutenant busted for a pointless and bungled espionage attempt into a noble set-upon war hero. Could we please have the cat back? I mean, if it’s not off in Africa curing malaria or something.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/21/10

Just when you think Herb and Jamaal has reached the top of its game, it breaks new ground. Generic dialogue? No dialogue at all! Bland characters? Unknown bland characters (Herb and Sarah’s flat-topped son Ezekiel, impy neighbor Willie, and Willie’s dad, um…)! Labored, arbitrary setups? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet! And icing on the cake, a heartwarming Mary Worth-style quotation from Malcolm X. ‘Cause if that man stood for anything, it’s that it’s OK to let yourself be victimized, as long as you can be smug about it.

Gil Thorp, 3/22/10

Underemployed dropout Steve Luhm here puts right his slightly icky will-they-or-won’t-they flirtation with Milford B-baller Cassie Corman. Cassie has a well-established taste for older boys — they don’t even have to be much older, and from the look of Ray Richey there, just about any boy will do. Well, Steve’s having none of it, and oh hey look Milford’s closing in on the point spread and Kinsella’s still on fire. Excuse me, I gotta call my bookie.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/5/10

Say, it’s been a while since we checked in with the refugee-ne’er-do-well wackiness in Rex Morgan, hasn’t it? Today, it seems that Sarah is learning a valuable lesson: that, when you’re in a position of power over someone in a desperate situation, they might give up their most treasured possessions “voluntarily,” just to buy themselves a few more days or hours of survival! This knowledge will come in handy for her future career as a brutal post-apocalyptic warlord.

Unfortunately, Toots is about to learn a similar important lesson as well: when you’re a refugee and not in a position to be economically productive, you only have so many things you can trade away for safety. When Sarah comes back for more — and she will — the pickings will get slimmer, and fast. “Say, little girl, do you want this stripey shirt? All the other kids will think you’re super cool if you’ve got a stripey shirt? Hmm, how about this half-empty paint can? No? Uh … dirty socks? I found some dirty socks over here…”

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/5/10

As part of my policy about being open and honest with you when normally unfunny comics make me laugh, I admit to being amused that Elviney is reading a publication called Tabloid Doin’s. However, the fact that Loweezy is perusing something with a much more conventional name confounded me a bit, and forces me to conclude that in fact Tabloid Doin’s is some kind of trade magazine detailing the hiring and firing of editors at various tabloid publications. “I don’t care what you say, Loweezy! Ain’t nobody in this latest crop o’ gossip maven ken hold a candle to Bonnie Fuller!”

Gil Thorp, 3/5/10

The Mudlark basketball team has once again failed to even make the playdowns, which I’m frankly glad about, as it allows me to focus more energy on Coach Thorp’s increasingly twee wardrobe. First a sweater vest, now some kind of cardigan, complete with a chunky piping? I love it, Gil!

Shoe, 3/5/10

Roz’s interlocutor is in fact a bird; so, while she shouldn’t be anxious about using her wings to travel through the air, being killed, dismembered, fried, and eaten is a legitimate concern.

Jumble, 3/5/10

I kind of love how enthusiastic this guy is about fresh-ground cheese. “Yes! It adds so much flavor! Look, look at this cheese I’m pointing to, everyone! Oh my God, it completely transforms the dish! Keep adding more! Pile on the cheese! Don’t ever stop!”

Pluggers, 3/5/10

You’re a plugger if the terrifying secret government lab that created the man-animal abomination that you are saved money by grafting variously sized torsos onto identical sets of cloned legs.

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Dennis the Menace, 3/3/10

Yes, it’s always fun to find novel ways to mock Mr. Wilson’s weight, Dennis, but with gold currently trading at around $1,150 an ounce, in all likelihood you’d be worth a million bucks yourself! Your little friend there, who’s so badly emaciated and weak that you need to pull him around in a wagon, probably not so much.

If Dennis were to become some kind of gold bug, that would be a new and interesting dimension of menace. Instead of just cracking wise about his tubby neighbors, he could instead “accidentally” hit baseballs through the windows of members of the Federal Reserve Board of Governors, and monopolize classroom time with extended diatribes about the fraudulence of fiat money.

Apartment 3-G, 3/3/10

More evidence that Ari is the worst psychiatrist ever: his identifying some faint reflection of an external light source in Tommy’s dead, emotionless eyes as a “sparkle.” The most one could expect to see there would be a glimmer of relief — in this case, relief because the Professor’s brief, vague recap of his entirely self-inflicted problems has confirmed for Tommie that her policy of not making any sort of effort at personal fulfillment or happiness is for the best.

Lockhorns, 3/3/10

Speaking of dead, emotionless eyes, today’s installment of the Lockhorns is particularly harrowing. It is of course not surprising that one half of this doomed couple would resort to dark voodoo magic to inflict pain on the other; but you’d think that Loretta would at least be experiencing a bit of joy from the prospect of tormenting her husband with the help of poweful spirit beings, or that she’d show guilt or defiance at being discovered in the act. Perhaps she should be sticking a pin into a voodoo doll of herself, since that appears to be the only way she’d be able to feel anything.

Mark Trail, 3/3/10

“Outside the political arena, we are passionate lovers, as this bouquet of red roses indicates! Good day, gentlemen!”

Senator Wallace’s outfit is not dissimilar to that sported by known lothario Mr. Kessler, so this is as good a place as any to note that the fellow has his own Twitter feed now. More proof that Mr. Kessler doesn’t go for teenage girls; if he did, he’d have set up a MySpace account.