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Crankshaft, 3/26/07

Not only does this joke manage to somehow be both horrifyingly tasteless and completely incomprehensible; it also is the exact same joke that this trip used to similarly poor effect last June (and thanks to faithful reader Gg83 for pointing this out in the comments). At least that version was told by other characters.

Does Crankshaft own any garments other than that jacket? I don’t even want to imagine what it must smell like.

For Better Or For Worse, 3/26/07

The other day I was saying to myself, “Josh, you know what FBOFW really needs? A really sanctimonious teen sex storyline.” April has always been the odd Foob out; now she needs to decide if she’s stay pure, or give in to her sinful urges, forever shame the name of Patterson, and join Team Gig with Becky. I for one am looking forward to the horror.

Gil Thorp, 3/26/07

You know what’s even more thrilling and exciting than writing a nice, long paper about fairness and ethics? Looking at a crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics.

You know what’s even more thrilling and exciting than looking at a crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics? Looking at two crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics.

Judge Parker, 3/26/07

Oh my God, Abbey’s maternal instincts about the need to accompany Neddy to Paris were right on the money: she’s been there for two days and she already thinks it’s fun being a whore. WATCH CLOSELY, APRIL PATTERSON: THIS IS YOUR FUTURE IF YOU GO PAST FIRST BASE BEFORE THE AGE OF THIRTY.

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The Lockhorns, 3/22/07

I know this isn’t really going out on a limb, since everyone in the Lockhorns (except for the statuesque blondes that Leroy is always drunkenly flirting with at parties) is pretty much the same person except for the clothes and hair, but: doesn’t Loretta’s mother look exactly like Leroy, except with, um, different clothes and hair? For some reason, their resemblance is especially creepy to me because her hair looks exactly like the wig that Norman wears when he turns into Mother in Psycho. So, even though it’s unlikely, what with their both being in the panel here and all, I’d like to believe that Leroy becomes “Mother-in-Law” when his internalized mental anguish forces him to kill. This feature would be better if there were more stabbings, is what I’m trying to get at.

Apartment 3-G, 3/22/07

The thing is, I’m not sure what Margo would find “sweet” — when a man kills for her? — but I’m willing to bet it isn’t the kind of mopey, passive-aggressive poor-me game that Gary is playing here. I guess she might think it’s “sweet” in the sense of “isn’t that sweet, my dopey roommate has attracted someone who’s an even bigger loser than she is.”

Funky Winkerbean, 3/22/07

GOD DAMN IT, FUNKY WINKERBEAN, WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE DAMN CANCER WITH YOU? CANCER CANCER CANCER! THERE ARE OTHER KILLER DISEASES, YOU KNOW! WHY CAN’T IT BE AIDS? OR EBOLA? GIVE IT A REST WITH THE DAMN CANCER ALREADY? CHRIST!

Judge Parker, 3/22/07

Wow, so this is what it eventually comes to for humanities Ph.D. students? And I thought my occasional stints as a temp doing filing or reception work were beneath my dignity. Looks like I got out of grad school just in time!

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/17/07

Oh yeah, Gerald an’ April are gonna be at home all by themselves. And they’re going to “practicing.” And I think you and I both know what they’ll be practicing. That’s right: they’ll be practicing talking like actual fifteen-year-olds, rather than robots programmed by a sixty-year-old to say things like “make some green,” “the kiddies,” and, of course, “practice.”

Beetle Bailey, 3/17/07

For those of you who don’t know, a “magnum” is a one-and-a-half liter bottle of wine or champagne, which is twice the usual size. Thus, General Halftrack is merely proposing to drink himself into a stupor so as to at least briefly obliterate from his mind the hellish reality of the marriage he hates, and is not openly contemplating some kind of murder-suicide scenario. It’s still plenty grim, though perhaps not as off-putting as his flesh-colored mustache in panel two.

Curtis, 3/17/07

Clearly there’s some kind of off-panel donkey defecation going on in the first panel of today’s Curtis, but I have to admit that I’m disturbingly fixated on Curtis’ unfinished sentence. Why do you think they call it what? What? Is there some proverb or turn of phrase or bit of folk wisdom that involves donkey poop?

Judge Parker, 3/17/07

Wow, look at the expressions of utter panic on the faces Neddy and Abbey as they grapple with the concept of having missed their stop. If rich Americans, who are clearly the best and smartest people in the world, can’t handle the complexity of public transit, how in the world do the poor foreigners who ride it consistently make it home alive? Here’s a hint, kids: the train goes both ways along its whole route. You could just get off and get back on going back the other direction until you return to your stop, and not have to wander through whatever horrifying slumscape you’ve inevitably ended up in.

If you can’t tell, I’m growing more and more contemptuous of these two with each passing moment that they manage to further botch the relatively simple task of taking the train; thus, I am now openly rooting for the sinister punk rockers, and firmly believe that our pair of innocents abroad will deserve what they get. Fortunately, the evil punks probably don’t have anything sexually deviant planned for their victims, since, despite all evidence, they apparently believe that Neddy and Abbey are men. Yes, “Ils regardent la carte,” as Mohawk Punk puts it, means “They’re looking at the map,” but the “they” is masculine; the feminine would be “elles”. I don’t mean to imply that I’m some big expert Frenchie-talker — I was in charge of parlezing the vous when we were in a remarkably punk-rocker-free Paris a few years ago, and Mrs. C. will be happy to tell you how badly that went — but the ils/elles distinction is something you literally learn in the first week of French class.

Slylock Fox, 3/17/07

The most disturbing thing about this Slylock Fox? It’s not the fact that the cow has, in a burst of unnatural strength, managed to leap across a road; nor is it the cow’s unprovoked attack on the terrified rabbit, despite the fact that two species are not traditionally antagonistic towards each other. No, it’s the heavy-lidded, unfocused expression on the cow’s face, combined with the lolling tongue. That cow is high as a kite, and I don’t just mean literally.