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Dennis the Menace, 8/1/07

Not to keep on repeating myself, but there are few things more disturbing in this life than seeing that single drop of sweat roll slug-like down George Wilson’s florid, spiteful mask of a face. All of the things that it could signify — an incipient killing spree, a massive cerebral hemorrhage in progress, unwanted sexual arousal — are things better left uncontemplated.

Today, Dennis is identified as a pest, which is an epithet much more in line with his severely downgraded antisocial behavior. It doesn’t actually rhyme with “Dennis,” but I would argue that his current pale reflection of his past menacing glories ought to revoke his right to a rhyming nickname. I had a brief hope when my eyes settled on the word “pest” that Mr. Wilson was referring to a three-foot-tall fly-human hybrid, who had escaped from his basement lab and had arrived to wreak a gruesome revenge on his creator. This, to me, would have justified that creepy bead of sweat.

Crankshaft, 8/1/07

Ha ha, silly old person! You thought that as an adult you were still entitled privacy and autonomy! Has nobody pointed out to you that you’re old?

Popeye, 8/1/07

After our last visit to this feature, those of you who don’t read Popeye regularly are probably wondering if the strip continues to be totally bonkers. Today’s installment, in which Popeye, Olive Oyl, and Olive Oyl’s brother Castor cower in a Cold War-era bomb shelter from a bloodthirsty cow determined to bite off their heads and drag their corpses across the field, is here to answer with a hearty “Yes!”

Gil Thorp, 8/1/07

“All beginners have issues with footwork Mr. Ritter, but Bill has only half as much trouble as most — because he only has half as many feet! Get it? Because he chopped one of his legs off with a chainsaw, you see. But anyway, your boy can punch! It’s almost as if he carries some kind of burning, unquenchable rage inside of him! I can’t guess why that would be, but let’s just hope that the guy who invented the chainsaw doesn’t get in the way of his fists, you know what I’m saying? Get it? Because he chopped one of his legs off with a chainsaw! Hey, come back, where’re you going? I got a million of these!”

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Gil Thorp, 7/30/07

Thank God the helpful narration box tells us that Gail Martin’s tour has hit the weirdly specific spot of Wheeling, W.Va., because based on the soul-crushing Stalinist architecture on display in panel one, I would have guessed that she was just finishing up three triumphant nights in Bratislava’s Štadión Petržalka.

As many of you have noted, Gil Thorp’s trademarked Hideous Disembodied Claw-Thing™ makes an appearance in panel three, but there is hope for humankind: when you compare it to its previous appearances you can see that it’s losing fingers. Soon we’ll be safe as Earth’s corrosive atmosphere causes it to dissolve altogether!

Mark Trail, 7/30/07

“And by ‘come check on you,’ I mean ‘shoot you in the face with his enormous shotgun.’ Don’t worry, I’ll be right here, lurking safely in the bushes until you distract him with your screams of agony!” Christ, it’s no wonder that Sam is attempting to withdraw her head into her shirt, turtle-like.

Family Circus, 7/30/07

Man, that’s a great, subtle expression of brief hope flickering out on the face of Pipey McMustache there. It’s almost a little cruel to drag it out in a rerun to make him feel that disappointment again.

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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!