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Crankshaft, 11/2/07

I know that life in the now temporally disjointed Funky Winkerbean/Crankshaft space/time continuum is a nonstop parade of ghastliness, but I do thinks the expressions of shock and despair sported by the two poor saps in panel three are bit overblown. They look less like “contemplating yet another one of the ’Shaft’s asinine schemes” and more like “just freed from a multiday hostage ordeal.” Or, to put it another way, less like “contemplating yet another one of the ’Shaft’s asinine schemes” and more like “actually watching one of the ’Shaft’s asinine schemes put into action, only many small children have been tied to the tree limbs before it was set alight.” I guess the inhabitants Funkyworld are always imagining the absolute worst-case-scenario for their lives at any given moment, and with good reason.

Dennis the Menace, 11/2/07

Oh, ho ho! That Dennis the Menace! Mr. Wilson is a fat lump, and Dennis isn’t afraid to point it out! He has no sense of social propriety! Ho ho!

OK, now that we’ve got that out of the way, please tell me the planet on which the following exchange would not be creepy and inappropriate:

Mr. Wilson looks disgruntled not because the neighbor brat has insulted his appearance (he’s sadly used to that by now) but because he’s suddenly realized that his increasingly senile wife has accidentally gotten out the “special” photo album. OH MY GOD MARTHA DON’T TURN THE PAGE!

Judge Parker, 11/2/07

Longtime readers of Judge Parker know that Sophie (here looking more disturbingly like a tiny monkey than ever) has a problem with voyeurism; recall this installment from one artist and 22 months ago (I think that works out to three days in JP’s internal chronology), in which Sophie gloats over having seen Neddy make out with her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. At least that was just good clean trembling-on-the-edge-of-puberty curiosity and fun, and neither of the kissees was married to her adopted mother. But don’t worry, Sam! Her lips are sealed! Now let’s talk about a raise in her allowance. Indian personal assistants don’t come cheap, you know.

(By the way, those of you who chortled at JP’s Raju storyline as unrealistic should probably read this.)

Marmaduke, 11/2/07

I’d really like to believe that the white band around Dottie’s waist is the broad white belt that the artist intended us to see, and not the result of her pants falling down so we can see her ass crack and garters. Really, I would. But somehow I don’t think I’m going to be able to pull it off.

On the other hand, I’m very pleased to see Marmaduke revealed as a three-headed demon hound.

Spider-Man, 11/2/07

I really am constantly impressed by Spider-Man’s ability to disappoint me. Just when I think my standards for the strip couldn’t possibly be lower, suddenly some new plot twist comes along to indicate that things are going to be much, much lamer than even I could imagine. Take the Persuader, here. When his upcoming appearance was hyped in a NEXT! box a Sunday or two ago, I was convinced that he was going to be a costumed supervillain of some sort — a spectacularly goofy one, to be sure, à la the Shocker, but a supervillain nonetheless. But now we see that he’s just a beefy guy in a suit. OOOH! He’s blows up newspaper trucks! He cleans his fingernails with a knife! He has a vaguely Hitler-esque haircut! SCARY!!!

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Gil Thorp, 10/29/07

Uh-oh! In a totally shocking unforeseeable development, it seems that vaguely repentant “accidental” murderer Cully Vale is falling in with a bad crowd! That Mitch “found” that money in some old lady’s purse is obvious not least because he appears to be an Eisenhower-era greaser hood of some sort. Meanwhile in panel two Boyd Henry’s Chameleon Device briefly hit some kind of glitch, revealing his black, alien eyes. What sinister plan does this disguised extraterrestrial have for Cully, and for humanity? Only time will tell!

Cully is too dumb recognize any of the warning signs, obviously. He’s not even very in touch with the way his own body works. “Hmm, discomfort in my tummy … what could make grumbling go away? Food? Sure, food sounds great! I’ll try this ‘food’ of which you speak!”

Mark Trail, 10/29/07

Most of the comics are starting in on their Halloween stories this week, but none have offered a vision as terrifying as Johnny Malotte’s litter of spawn and their eager, smiling faces. It’s frankly a wonder that Mom can even sit up straight after pumping out this brood. I’m guessing the visiting businessmen will find this group of hillbilly Von Trapps more unsettling than enjoyable.

And yes, Johnny has facial hair, but he’s an “old friend” of Mark’s, so he gets some kind of pass. Based on his Captain Renault-style mustache and vaguely Frenchy last name, I’m going imagine him as a comical Quebecois outdoorsman for really no good reason.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 10/29/07

I’ll never forget the day I first visited my Great-Aunt Ruth and Great-Uncle Stan in their retirement community in the high desert about an hour outside of L.A. I was fourteen or fifteen at the time, and while I intellectually understood why they found the golf course directly adjacent to their backyard appealing, I was more impressed by the constant round of barbecues and cocktail parties — any time of day, any day of the week — that their lives had become. I quickly understood why everyone got around the streets of their little subdivision on golf carts and the speed limit was 15 miles per hour: because pretty much everyone had a buzz on all the time. Ever since that day, I’ve had one goal in mind: to retire in style. Thank you, TDIET, for reminding me to keep my eye on the ball.

Judge Parker, 10/29/07

*SPUT* *BLUB* DO NOT TELL ME THAT THIS IS HOW THIS STORY HAS BEEN RESOLVED. IT DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY.

Sam is wearing his sunglasses to bring Extra Dickishness Action to this little conversation.

Hi and Lois, 10/29/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because Hi and Lois are bankrupt!

Lockhorns, 10/29/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because something pop-culture-related Loretta can’t cook!

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Judge Parker, 10/26/07

Woo! At long last, something exciting is happening in Judge Parker! Exciting and … completely nonsensical, but what the hell. I’m pretty sure that the reason I haven’t been able to follow the business and legal machinations of this plot is because they’re complete twaddle, as is Rusty Duncan’s incomprehensible Sam-lust. You might as well get all hot and bothered (and stupidly risk your high-powered lawyer career) over a particularly handsome slab of wood for all the satisfaction you’ll get out of it. One hopes that this isn’t a tiresome “lady professionals lose their mind over a hot hunky man” plot but rather part of some wheels-within-wheels intrigue, with hidden cameras ready to put this cute little scene all over the Internet. The handkerchief is there to collect a bit of Sam’s blood that will spurt from the gashes she’s about to tear in his ear; this will be useful for later DNA testing to prove that the photos depict her kissing the real Sam and not a life-sized Sam mannequin (since it would obviously be hard to tell otherwise).

Mary Worth, 10/26/07

I guess Vera’s line about “see[ing] the stars at night” is supposed to be some kind of reference to their first starlit make-out session,” but it’s pretty much impossible to interpret it as anything other than “Drew brought me to levels of physical pleasure that Von could never reach.” And maybe it’s me, but I really don’t think you should be talking to Mary Worth about the quality and quantity of your orgasms. It just seems wrong.

Archie, 10/26/07

Not that I’m a big expert on the minutiae of Archie characters’ inner lives or anything, but in my experience the Coach Kleats mainly doesn’t express any emotion other than numb-eyed acceptance of the wackiness and incompetence surrounding him. Thus, his Bob Knight-style tirade at a reporter’s legitimate (if ludicrously vague) question is kind of surprising. Presumably he’s desperately trying to prevent the press (and the readers) from noticing whatever it is number 7 is about to do to number 11 in the first panel.

Gil Thorp, 10/26/07

Typically, Milford teams are good enough to make the playdowns (AND YES THEY CALL THEM “PLAYDOWNS” IN GIL THORP DON’T ASK ME WHY ALL RIGHT?), but then inevitably flop in the first or second round. It’s good to see this year’s football squad breaking that mold by descending into total incompetence. Pretty soon a desperate and/or bored Gil will put in the team’s fourth-string quarterback: the kid with one leg. The only sad part is that Marty Moon is apparently too drunk or not drunk enough to launch into the “Fire Gil” campaign that he usually gets rolling at the first sign of trouble in the Milford Athletic department.

Panel one makes it clear that Coach Kaz is still battling his troubling addiction to cosmetic surgery.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 10/26/07

CEO J.P. Honcho testifies in Congress against stricter environmental laws:

“Increased regulations make American factories uncompetitive … not needed … voluntary improvements are the way … our plants are perfectly safe … clean-burning fuel … wouldn’t hurt a fly …”

So when he builds his sprawling mansion with his eight-digit bonus check, does he put it downwind from his own factory? Oh, dear reader, need you ask?

“Somethin’ about the country air … so fresh and clean … sure it’s far from the plant, but it’s worth it for the ol’ lung-quality … ahhhh …”