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Shoe, 11/17/25

I was about to get really mad and go on a diatribe about how graves are famously clearly labelled with both the occupant’s name and date of death, but then I realized that this bird lady has been dancing on an unmarked grave, and generally the only way you know the location of an unmarked grave is if you’ve dug it yourself. Years ago, she ambushed and murdered someone in the dark who she thought was Shoe and buried them deep in the woods; she occasionally returns to it to celebrate her victory over her tormentor with choreography, but today she decided to visit some of his old haunts to find out what legacy he left behind, only to be confronted with knowledge that has truly merited the patented Shoe goggle eyes of horror.

Mary Worth, 11/17/25

Uh, excuse me, Narration Box, that’s not just “the veterinarian,” that’s beloved Mary Worth tertiary character/Wilbur’s ex’s new husband, Dr. Ed! And boy, he looks happy, doesn’t he? Maybe it’s because he’s settling into the joy of married life now that the emotionally grueling wedding planning process is over, or maybe it’s just that today for once he gets to offer simple, helpful advice like “add good quality pellets to the food you give him” instead of euthanizing a bunch of dogs. And if his animal hospital is the only local vendor of the parrot pellet brand he recommends, well, that’s just an added bonus.

Hi and Lois, 11/17/25

Look, Lois, you have an infant and cannot be much older than your early 40s, you do not remember when streaking was a fad. Though I guess it’s possible that there’s more of an age gap here than meets the eye and her question isn’t rhetorical. “Remember when streaking was a fad?” asks Lois (born in 1986). “Was it, like, during the first Clinton Administration? I think I have vague memories of it as a kid.” Hi (born in 1967) sighs heavily.

Dick Tracy, 11/17/25

Ha ha yes, the, uh, the Ghost Cat. The … Ghost Cat. The beloved character (?) that we all know (??) and love (???). The cat who’s a ghost, and also, in certain jurisdictions albeit not this one, a duly appointed law enforcement officer. Very normal! Ghost Cat!

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Family Circus, 11/11/25

One of my favorite unintentional running Family Circus bits is when panels drawn decades ago that depict the Keane Kids in a car have seatbelts added in extremely half-assed ways. Just look at that shoulder strap vaguely dangling across Billy’s torso; he doesn’t even appear to have a lap belt, and there really is no way to overemphasize the degree to which none of this setup would restrain him in an accident. Presumably Big Daddy Keane knows this, and is more and more tempted to slam on the brakes and hurl his son towards the windshield as his blather becomes increasingly irritating. If only it weren’t for this blasted traffic!

Hi and Lois, 11/11/25

I was an early advocate for Hi and Lois returning Thirsty to his roots as a comical alcoholic, but even I have to admit that “Eat food? Produced via agriculture? No thanks, I’d rather drink an intoxicating beverage” may be going too far.

Mary Worth, 11/11/25

Similarly, I’ve had no complaints as Mary Worth does more and more animal-themed storylines, but “Ian acquires an erotic rival in the form of a parrot” is probably the point where I would start to register some mild complaints.

Shoe, 11/11/25

“Do you understand how much my spirit yearns to be free of this corrupt matter? Take this knife. Sacrifice the man that clothes me. Do it now.”

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Crock, 11/9/25

Now, obviously part of the whole deal of Crock is that it takes what’s objectively a pretty grim situation — a remote outpost of an army engaged in a grinding colonial war that we know with the hindsight of history that they’re going to lose — and uses it as a setting for a mostly light-hearted and zany series of comical vignettes. Still, sometimes the grim seeps through more than others, and you gotta admit that “angry troops attempt to lynch their commanding officer, only for him to trick them into falling to their deaths in turn, leaving him alone to wander the desert” is one of those times.

Hagar the Horrible, 11/9/25

Now, you may wonder why Hagar, who seems well aware that his years as a notorious pillager have created a very lucrative brand, doesn’t simply cut out the middleman: instead of letting the Duke of York profit by association and then stealing said profits, why doesn’t Hagar simply charge visitors to his own village, go on a highly paid speaking tour, and publish Horrible, and Profitable: What Today’s Leaders Can Learn From My Years Of Terror Around The North Sea Littoral, which will be bought by CEOs at airport bookstores everywhere and handed over to their assistants to summarize? But Hagar is savvy enough to understand that his brand wouldn’t survive any such attempt to “go legit,” so any profit he’d gain from such a move would be fleeting. Plus he can’t read, so the book thing probably hasn’t even occurred to him.

Mary Worth, 11/9/25

No offense to David Attenborough, but I’ve never really cared for birds. Like, I guess I don’t dislike them, and of course they’re beautiful to look at, but I’ve always found them off-putting up close — they just seem clearly further away from us, evolution-wise, than cats and dogs, and looking into their eyes they always feel kind of alien to me. The fact that they’re actually quite intelligent just adds to my unease. So, no shade on the many fine people who are bird lovers out there, but I’m just saying that for me personally, if a parrot I had encountered outside had figured out where I lived and begun rapping on the windows demanding to be let in, I would not be quite as enthusiastic about it as Toby is here.

Hi and Lois, 11/9/25

I really love Hi’s quick three-panel transition from triumph to anxiety to crushing depression. Honestly, the final panel with the “punchline” is completely unnecessary and even detracts from things a little bit.

Crankshaft, 11/9/25

The name of this painting is of course a Crankshaft-level bit of awful wordplay, which is why it’s great that he looks so horrified. “Oh god, I talk like this, don’t I? Why haven’t they murdered me in my sleep?”