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Gil Thorp, 2/3/09

Is today’s Gil Thorp the hottest Gil Thorp ever? Probably! It has a little something for everyone: panel three features Brenda and Dylan “connecting” with some sexy hetero making out (or maybe emergency mouth-to-mouth, or mutual cannibalism — it’s hard to tell), and panel two has two Lady Mudlarks I can’t identify (one of whom may also be Brenda, who knows) making sexy eye contact in preparation for the post-victory locker-room hookup. In panel one, meanwhile, Bryce Larkin works out obsessively at Jo’s Gym (motto: “We created our logo ourself rather than paying professional graphics designers; sure, it’s unspeakably shitty, but now we have more money to spend on free weights”) to get his body so taut and muscular that Gil won’t be able to reject his advances again, presaging hottness to come.

Momma, 2/3/09

Is today’s Momma the hottest Momma ever? Probably! Sure, the action is mostly incomprehensible — Is Francis supposed to be underage? Is the lovelorn cashier offering to cover up the fact he’s buying booze with his mother’s money? How is it possible that anyone is attracted to Francis? — but at least it’s a Momma that involves romantic attraction and yet doesn’t dwell on Momma’s demented, perverted suitors, her doomed attempts to protect Marylou’s virtue, or her unsettling Oedipal relationship with her sons, so let’s just count our blessings and move on.

Mark Trail, 2/3/09

“No, this situation doesn’t involve me! As a result, I’m just going to leave my weeping, terrified friend alone with her violent, angry husband! I’m sorry about this, Patty … I’ll send you copies of the nonspecified pictures, which a jealous person might assume would be sexy!”

Apartment 3-G, 2/3/09

“So you just allowed your husband to go out and follow his passions and convictions, rather than forcing him to spend all his time servicing you and earning money to buy you nice things? My head swivels in disapproval! That’s not how it’s going to be when I marry Eric — not if that combination tracking device/shock collar I just ordered from Amazon has anything to say about it.”

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Dick Tracy, 1/29/09

Dick Tracy is well known for such stunningly pointless narration box scene setting as “In another room” and “Elsewhere,” but I have to admit to being somewhat intrigued by “Much later”. By using qualitative, not quantitative, terms, the strip sets up an intriguing narrative tension about exactly when the third panel is supposed to be taking place. Are we meant to read it as “Much later, after Dick’s gruesome, nine-hour ‘enhanced’ interrogation of Professor Noll, at the end of which he described the secret project he was working on, confessed to a number of crimes he couldn’t have possibly committed, and then was shot ‘trying to escape’?” Or as “Much later, after the human race has evolved into a species with no pupils, shiny black skulls, truncated, pointy breasts, and a tendency to name people things like ‘Driller’?”

Gil Thorp, 1/29/09

Of course, Central has an incredible home-court advantage. Playing basketball on a court with four-foot ceilings does limit the number of home fans who can come and cheer, but for teams unused to such conditions, the stooped, simian lope that they make necessary can be a real distraction — one that the permanently hunched over Bobcats can exploit.

I’m not sure what the two clowns standing behind Marty are up to — trying to get their faces on the radio? That’s not how it works, guys — but I sincerely hope that the blond-haired glasses-wearing dude is making the universal jerk-off motion with his left hand, as he appears to be.

Blondie, 1/29/05

I strongly disapprove of the set-up for this joke. Dagwood can’t possibly be much older than, say, 50; obviously anyone born after 1960, when asked by a child if some common, century-old device were available during their childhood, would respond not with “Yes, and yet I’m also going to offer a description of an archaic technology that will make me seem even more wizened to you,” but with “JESUS CHRIST ELMO HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM,” followed by some serious soul-searching and a series of inappropriate and regrettable music and clothing purchases.

Mary Worth, 1/29/09

“Yes, before I came to visit you, I never imagined the hatred and despair that lurked just beneath the besequined surface of this beautiful sport! Now every time I see a coach talking to a skater on TV, all I’ll be able to think of will be the many ways that each has been able to wound and disappoint the other over the years. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish my glass of blood as soon as possible and get the hell out of here before this little papered-over truce you’ve established inevitably collapses in tears and acrimony and slashing blades.”

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Mark Trail, 1/24/09

A few days ago, we saw Patty get slapped around by her husband for the simple crime of letting a filthy, disease-ridden deer wander around in their house, pooping everywhere. I couldn’t bring myself to make a funny about domestic violence at the time, but I knew that Mark would eventually be called upon to deliver the righteous punches to Patty’s cruel spouse. And yet today, we see that Mark is in fact equally heartless, though the blows he lands won’t leave marks. “Say, I think it would be interesting to write an article about how bringing wild animals into your house is a terrible idea, for you and the animal! Let’s go take an extensive series of pictures of our idiot friend who did just that, and then run them in the article, with big captions that say ‘MORON’ and ‘ANIMAL ABUSER’! We won’t tell her what the article’s about until it’s published. I’m sure her husband will react positively to seeing her foolishness in print for everyone to see!” It’s about time this strip took on the power-hungry liberal media, represented by Mark Trail, who will stop at nothing to get his pointless stories for his stupid magazine read by nobody.

Gil Thorp, 1/24/09

I was in a creative writing class my senior year of college, and one of the my classmates wrote a story about a girl who was always looking in her bedroom mirror and thinking she was fat, and eventually she developed an eating disorder and died, and afterwards her mother realized that the mirror was bowed outward a bit in the middle, making her look fatter than she really was. We were not kind to that story when it came time for the peer review; and yet, when I moved out of my tiny studio apartment that summer, I discovered that my only full length mirror was in fact bowed outward just as the story described, and while I had not become a desperate bulimic or anything, I had been worried about what I perceived as my encroaching portliness.

My point is that young people are dumb and that this scheme, in which a perfectly healthy Bryce will be flimflammed into trying out for the basketball team against his wishes with Photoshop trickery, is actually halfway plausible. Bryce’s sister just wants him to join the team to make friends and get out of his funk, but I hope she’s happy when he commits himself to a grueling 18-hour-a-day workout schedule and limits his daily meals to a few pieces of diet bread. After he drops dead of starvation in mid-layup, his life story will be dramatized as the made-for-TV film Please, Bryce, Eat! presented as a special event on local public access cable, hosted by Marty Moon.

Dennis the Menace, 1/24/09

Good lord, look at Mr. Wilson’s pants — they’re obviously designed for a man at least six inches taller than he is now. The poor bastard isn’t sad about Dennis’s sub-menacing chicanery; he’s obviously realized that he’s shrinking rapidly, and will soon be no taller than his irritating houseguest, only to subsequently vanish altogether.