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Herb and Jamaal, 4/21/26

I went to grad school for history (NOTE: DO NOT DO THIS) from 1996 to 1999, which was about at the tail end of the period when it might seem reasonable for someone to be going to grad school and not own a computer. Our department had a tiny little “computer lab” for grad students that was basically a little cubby off the admin office with a couple of outdated Macs and a printer. The whole time I was going there I would often see this one guy using the computers, a heavy-set dude with a shaggy beard and thick glasses who would never talk to anyone else and always be typing away furiously, which was normal enough grad student appearance/behavior/vibes that I never thought much of it, except to notice that I never saw anyone else using the lab. Anyway, one day, not long before I finally left the program in disgrace and relief, I noticed that he had left some printed pages behind, and I picked them up to finally figure out what his specialization was in the department, only to discover that what he was writing was in fact no-paragraph-breaks all-caps paranoid ideation. The question that immediately occurred to me: Did a genuinely crazy person somehow figure out that our computer lab was never used and that nobody would question him if he came in to type up his little manifestos? Or had he at one point been a normal (“normal”) grad student who was driven mad by academia, in a turn that validated my decision to quit?

Anyway, just thought of this little episode as I read today’s Herb and Jamaal. When I told my stepmother my story, she asked “Did you, uh, tell anyone? Because he might be dangerous?” And I was like “Nope! Ha ha! Not my business!” But I can see that Herb is taking his responsibilities a little more seriously than I did.

Pluggers, 4/21/26

It’s kind of interesting that there are no plugger cows, right? I sort of thought that maybe it’s because their society is tilted towards predators and aggressive herbivores like Rhino-Man, but maybe it’s actually because plugger envy of the gentle bovine’s digestive prowess has led to cows being pushed out of their society.

Dick Tracy, 4/21/26

“What with them all being freaks of nature with weird skull shapes and all. They’re easy for us to spot and catch! Hey, you ever think there might be a bunch of normal-looking criminals getting away with stuff around here because we don’t really notice them?”

Heathcliff, 4/21/26

What do you think goes on at the nightclub for frogs named after their main prey animal? Probably some real fucked-up shit, right?

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Dennis the Menace, 4/16/26

OK, since I complained about yesterday’s “exciting” tax panel from Pluggers, I have to praise this one. You know what’s exciting? When you’ve been up for three days straight trying to do your taxes and you’ve missed the deadline by several hours but you can’t stop because you’ll lose your momentum. “Please, let him rest!” begs Dennis. “He does so much for us!” It’s not very menacing of him but I’ll allow it.

Blondie, 4/16/26

I really like Dagwood’s facial expression in the second panel. It’s like he’s thinking “Oh, am I being cruised? Is this the cruising section of the park? Not really my thing but I guess you should try everything once.” By the time we get to panel three he’s disappointed that he misread the situation.

Heathcliff, 4/16/26

“Heathcliff sees a therapist” is an occasional bit in this strip, and I don’t care for it because I really don’t think it’s a match for his character. Heathcliff may have any number of real psychological issues, but I think he’s pretty happy with himself and lacks the desire to change that usually drives people to therapy. Anyway, despite what the therapist says, I appreciate the fact that today makes it clear he doesn’t take the process very seriously.

Crankshaft, 4/16/26

OH WE’RE ALLOWED TO START THINKING ABOUT A SCENARIO WHERE CRANKSHAFT SUFFERS A MASSIVE HEART ATTACK NOW? LIKE, CANONICALLY, IN THE WORLD OF THE STRIP, THAT’S SOMETHING THAT’S ON THE TABLE? GOOD TO KNOW, GOOD TO KNOW

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Heathcliff, 2/8/26

I gotta respect these guys for saying to hell with the NFL’s trademarks and hanging a giant banner that says “SUPER BOWL” from the ceiling of their living room to mark their Super Bowl party. Sure, it’s not strictly necessary, but it’s festive, and what if an outside viewer caught a glimpse of the room and had forgotten what day it was and needed a signifier in order to parse what exactly they were looking at? These revelers are true heroes. A living room “SUPER BOWL” sign, a dip cat, aliens and robots trying to stymie that dip cat for some reason, but not really trying very hard — all good, normal stuff.

Rhymes With Orange, 2/8/26

I kind of enjoy the way these people, who I assume just recently died, are casually chatting as they queue up to be tortured for all eternity. They spent their life weighted down by sin, so they aren’t surprised to be here or anything, though they are surprised to discover their sins are actually cute li’l anthropomorphized demons.