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You know, unlike some people, I was actually able to relax on my vacation.

Unlike Peter Parker, who is physically unable to resist the siren song of television, I was able to go eight whole days without reading any of the comics that weren’t featured on this site in my absence. So naturally I had to spend the better part of this morning reading everything I missed. Curse you, Houston Chronicle, for making it all so darn easy!

I was unable to decide on my favorite panel from the days I missed. Was it this one, where Gil Thorp openly boasts that he’ll call in his mob ties to silence journalists who dare question his insane coaching decisions?

Or this one, where Eric Mills imagines the sick thrill he’ll get from roasting Margo alive?

Silly Eric! Margo’s carapace is deceptively beautiful, but it will take more heat than an ordinary household grill can put out to damage it.

Anyway, no more living in the past! We must return to the present … where we find that things haven’t really changed much in the past week or so.

Blondie, 9/10/07

Blondie and Dagwood, for instance, are still caught in a hateful game of marital oneupsmanship that is played out via conspicuous consumption. There is, of course, only one way this can end: with the Bumstead house going up in flames in some kind of mutual potlatch gone horribly awry — both of them still inside, sadly.

Mark Trail, 9/10/07

Mark Trail has stepped away from the brink of a potentially interesting exploration of out-of-control tabloid media and out-of-control development hell-bent on getting its way to slip into a familiar groove. You can’t see it because of the dramatic shadows, but that dude in panel two has sideburns. Sideburns. Sideburns and a club. It’s fisticuffs time, people!

Marmaduke, 9/10/07

And, as ever, Marmaduke’s insatiable hunger for the flesh of human children rages unabated. It’s good to be back in the comics!

(Confidential to Tucson-area readers: Some Comics Curmudgeon fans are gathering at the Macayo’s at Ina and Oracle at 1 p.m. this coming Saturday if you’d care to join them!)

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Galactic Emperors sure are fun — but they leave a big mess! Your contribution will help us tidy up the joint:

We now return to our regularly-scheduled conquest!

Apartment 3G, Cathy, Gil Thorp, For Better or For Worse

Magmacannons… FIRE!

ATTENTION EARTHERS! YOUR GALACTIC EMPEROR FEELS YOUR PAIN! OR TO BE MORE EXACT, HE RE-DIRECTS IT AT YOUR MOST LOATHED COMIC CHARACTERS! CHENNUX MAGMACANNONS THE COMICS SO YOU DON’T HAVE TO! HAHA!

CHENNUX DECLARES ‘MISSION ACCOMPLISHED’ AND THANKS YOU FOR THE RAW SNARKONIUM PRODUCED OVER THE PAST EARTHER DAY! UNCLE LUMPY WILL TAKE OVER THE SITE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! GIVE HIM A FEW HOURS TO RECOVER FROM THE BRAIN REINSTALLMENT PROCEDURE AND HE’LL BE FINE! UNTIL THEN, A FEW THINGS TO PONDER…

Gil Thorp, 9/6/07

…AND CULLY VALE STOMPS OFF, SILHOUETTED BY THE LIGHT OF THE VILLAGERS’ TORCHES!

Cathy, 9/6/07

EARTHERS! EXPLAIN TO CHENNUX! IS CLEANING OUT CATHY’S ‘STORAGE ROOM’ THE SAME AS ‘CLEANING JUNE’S GARAGE’ IN REX MORGAN MD? IF SO, EVEN CHENNUX GOES, “EWWWWWW!”

END TRANSMISSION!

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Gil Thorp, 8/22/07

So, well, uh, I guess my hopes that this might be interesting, or make any damn sense at all, have pretty much been dashed at this point. Way to hold up under pressure there, Cliff. “I didn’t do it!” “We followed you!” “Aw, hell.” I am pretty impressed by Gail’s look of unbridled rage there in panel three. You do not want to get on the wrong side of the rock and roll Carole King, I tell you what. I guess the real lesson here is that shady dudes with Fu Manchu mustaches and a record of drug offenses are actually pretty cool guys! They sure wouldn’t leave passive-aggressive notes scattered around; they’d just insult you to your face.

(But it still doesn’t add up! With the money he earned touring, Cliff was able to buy a van! A van!)

Mark Trail, 8/22/07

Meanwhile, smack dab in the middle of the future site of the Lost Forest Hot Topic, Homer the friendly construction worker is about to take a stand to protect some baby ducks from the ravenous jaws of your so-called “progress.” It should come as no surprise that our duck-loving bulldozer operator is clean-shaven, while the stench of evil rising from his coworker is as thick as his no doubt matted beard. Fortunately, Mark Trail will soon be on the scene to explain what he learned from Sam Hill: once the developers finish draining the wetlands, birds won’t want to lay their eggs there anymore, and the problem is solved!

Momma, 8/22/07

The following sentence is one that I never, ever wanted to write, but I suppose in retrospect it was inevitable, so here goes: The frank sexuality in today’s Momma is deeply disturbing to me. It’s already been implied that Francis fancies himself a ladies man, much to Momma’s disgust. Presumably she assumes (no doubt with good reason) that Francis’s inability to hold down gainful employment probably indicates that he’s unable to operate a prophylactic, and that she has dozens of bastard grandchildren all over town. You’d think she’d be a little excited about the prospect: grandkids are usually idée fixe #1 of the Mommas of the world; she’s got none to brag about down at the senior center, other than little Chucky, who hasn’t appeared since his fateful trip to the bar with Francis, when he was presumably traded for beer.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/22/07

I’m not going to touch the political content of today’s TDIET (“Public education: A necessary institution in an equitable society, or an insatiable money pit?”). Instead, I’m going to outline the lottery-themed TDIET I’d like to see:

Governor Honcho calls a press conference to crow when he busts up Vito’s little numbers racket…

(“Step right in, gentlemen! Why not put a bit of scratch on 17 red? Only 35-to-1 odds! You could … aw, cheese it! The fuzz!”)

…but then who d’ya see on TV trying to get you to put a buck on the Big Payoff Lottery Scratch-Off? Do you have to ask? I don’t think so!

(“Million-to-one odds … and you could be that one! Why not cash your Social Security check to buy more? Every dime goes to education! Etc … etc …”)

Apartment 3-G, 8/22/07

OK, now they’re just fucking with us, with the hair.