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Gil Thorp, 2/17/10

What Gil Thorp storyline would be complete without a little erotic coaching? Sexy Lady Mudlark basketball star Cassie wipes the sweat off her toned body coquettishly, waiting for her personal trainer/svengali Steve Luhm to sidle up behind her and whisper sweet nothings about “trusting her hands” into her ears. (Yesterday Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp admonished Steve for coaching from the stands, but nothing can stop him from sneaking down courtside to offer a little advice on the down low.)

Unfortunately, the usual baffling sports action occupies panel three, leaving us unable to properly assess whether Steve’s advice was for good or for ill. I’d have guessed “there’s another steal!” would refer to Cassie stealing the ball from her opponent, but the actual image depicts her be-afro’d New Thayer rival firmly in possession. Perhaps the “stealing” she’s doing involves stealing the poor girl’s life-essence, causing her right arm to bend unnaturally at the elbow (I defy you to draw an anatomically probably line from her wrist to her shoulder). This act of sporting witchcraft is a result of a series of incantational gestures made by Cassie’s left or “sinister” hand. Trust it, Cassie! Let the evil flow through you!

Crock, 2/17/10

I have to assume that someone over at Crock central feels bad for creating a character named “Grossie” solely for the purpose of being the butt of fat jokes and ugly jokes, and has now, using his authorial omnipotence, decided to rectify years of abuse by having her bewitch the local legionnaires. While this is baffling from an in-universe perspective, I do have to admit that I kind of like the look of melting-face despair on Supposedly Attractive Woman Whose Name I Forget in panel two, though it’s hard to differentiate it from melting-face confusion or melting-face sarcasm or any other melting-face emotion with which someone in Crock might be afflicted.

Crankshaft, 2/10/10

My goodness, Crankshaft has been taken up bodily to serve at the Right Hand of Our Lord, just like the prophets of old! This makes me feel all the better about not going to heaven when I die.

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Gil Thorp, 2/13/10

Steve Luhm’s reign of terror continues! He thinks up lame nicknames for the basketball team, and the fans dance to his tune, even taking their clothes off for no good reason! Girls who are into older boys with menial jobs find their affections bending inexorably Luhmward! What kind of awful power does this bespectacled custodian have over the citizens of this community? Are they just wholly incapable of cleaning up after themselves, leaving them at the mercy of whoever serves as janitor at any given time? Is Steve drunk with the power that comes with possession of the only mop in all of Milford?

Mary Worth, 2/13/10

I’ve had reason to criticize the art in Mary Worth over the years, but the last two days of Dawn’s shocked-and-yet-secretly-delighted facial expressions have been a joy to behold. I also may have been too harsh on her: while I assumed that this is exactly the kind of information she had hoped to receive, actually finding out the truth seems to have literally turned her brown eyes blue.

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Beetle Bailey, 2/4/10

OK, I’ll admit it: today’s unspeakably perverse Beetle Bailey, in which Sarge’s leering sex maniac of a dog takes him to some kind of canine fetish club, made me laugh. (I’m assuming the “fire plug dancing” bit means that their target audience is into watersports.) I think what makes this strip for me is Sarge’s look of wide-eyed innocence giving way to growing shock in the second panel. So many things he will learn tonight, about dogs and what they like to smell and/or pee on!

Gil Thorp, 2/4/10

I was going to make some sort of snide comment about how every sentence in panels two and three could be construed as a double entendre, but then I caught site of Gil’s sweater vest, and now can think about nothing but said sweater vest. Do you think it’s in Mudlark team colors? That would be ever so keen!

Mary Worth, 2/4/10

“It must be the same guy! Such an unusual name, after all!”

Dawn better keep track of her father while she thought-balloons, as Wilbur has snuck away to hunch over his computer in the background and go all crazy social-networking style. Watch out, Dawn! Maybe he’ll discover that daughter he always wanted!

Dennis the Menace, 2/4/10

Too bad you won’t be alive to see it, old man! Maybe Dennis’ll bring the little tykes over to dance on your grave!