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Apartment 3-G, 2/26/14

There’s been some suspicious chatter in the comments about the possibility that Tommie’s fiancé might not actually exist. Sure, we’ve seen him, but we also saw the mysterious ghost who forced Lu Ann to make all those crappy fern paintings, and he just turned out to be a byproduct of the carbon monoxide poisoning she developed from working in a poorly ventilated studio. Couldn’t terrible loneliness be an even more powerful spur to hallucinatory lunacy than oxygen deprivation? Tommie’s reckless food overpurchases certainly indicate a kind of panicked mania. “Yep, enough food for seven men! Of which my fiancé is definitely one! Not a figment of my imagination! Not a story that I thought nobody would ever be able to confirm or deny! A real, flesh and blood human man who wants to marry me! Ha ha! Hope you like things that come out of brightly-colored boxes!”

Mary Worth, 2/26/14

Looks like Tommy’s had a political awakening in the joint! No matter how badly he needs a job, he recoils in disgust at the thought of helping some vast megaretailer conglomerate crush the struggling mom-and-pop stores the still cling to life along Santa Royale’s scenic shopping/fish-gutting district down by the pier. Or maybe he’s just worried that his sobriety will be in trouble because the Santaroymart warehouses a den of drug depravity, if I correctly remember that the hilariously botched and laughably named drug bust “Operation H-Town” went down there.

Better Half, 2/26/14

Sure, it’ll probably set her back thousands of dollars, but when you come home and find your husband sticking his dick in your home entertainment system, you can be forgiven for reacting strongly.

Herb and Jamaal, 2/26/14

Like when there’s nobody else in the room, for instance!

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Blondie, 2/10/14

The Winter Olympics, in addition to being a stage where the greatest athletes compete at the highest level to achieve glory, is also a carefully managed corporate product with armies of lawyers. They are not to be joked about, OK? You can’t just publish in hundreds of newspapers a dumb joke about how the kids today like texting and wouldn’t it be funny if someone at the Olympics were texting while competing in their chosen event? No, that would be unthinkable. You can only have someone make that joke, then immediately acknowledge that it was just a joke, ha ha, obviously the Olympics has no such event, that would be degrading to the sport, please, tune in for primetime coverage on NBC!

Apartment 3-G, 2/10/14

Tommie’s fiancé has stopped by her apartment in New York on the way to the airport … from … England? Which makes no sense? Anyway, he’s missed his plane now, because they’re “drowsy from happiness,” which I’m assuming is some sort of code for sex that you’re allowed to use in the comics because it’s completely opaque. But now he’s missed his plane! And his head is bobbing suggestively! And he’s going to figure out that his fiancée is a crazy person who is keeping a baby deer in her New York City apartment! Everything about this whole scenario just screams “surrealistic dream narrative” to me, starting with “somebody agreed to marry Tommie.”

Herb and Jamaal, 2/10/14

Ho ho, these fellas are lost but they won’t stop and ask for directions? Men, amiright? In unrelated news, Herb has a malignant melanoma.

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Crock, 1/24/14

Ha ha, the joke is that they’re using “database” as a double-entendre to refer to a sexy part of a lady’s body! This is the sort of joke that would be funny to someone wholly unfamiliar with computers and only passingly familiar with sex. What’s really of interest to me here, though, are the weird black squares floating around our sassy legionnaire’s head in panel two? What are these mysterious, featureless intrusions into ordinary reality? My guess is that computer expert Billie Jean has long ago subsumed all of human existence into a vast computer simulation that she can watch and control like a god. Those blocks are a brief glitch in the Matrix. Her erstwhile paramour and his comrade, their bio-existence snuffed out uncountable digital eons ago, now endlessly replay this scene for Billie Jean’s amusement.

Herb and Jamaal, 1/24/14

“Ha ha ha, just kidding, I’m exaggerating because of how much time I spend on my cell phone! But seriously, I need something to help me take the edge off a little, if you know what I mean. Drugs. I’m talking about drugs. SELL ME DRUGS, HERB”

Mary Worth, 1/24/14

“Also, I had sex with Broadway legend Ken Kensington seven times! Well, one of those times we just did oral. It was a little too exciting, if you know what I mean. That’s why I came back to you and Santa Royale!”

Funky Winkerbean, 1/24/14

THE FUNKY WINKERBEAN MISSON STATEMENT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN