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Apartment 3-G, 11/25/08

You know, most people would be sick with worry for the safety of their loved ones if said loved ones were off on some mysterious but almost certainly dangerous mission way on the other side of the world. Thankfully for all of us, Margo is not most people, but is rather a gorgeous, tempestuous firecracker of a woman held tight in the grips of cocaine-driven paranoia. “The way I see it, Eric is either at the bottom of a ravine with a Chinese bullet in the back of his head, or whoring his way through every brothel in Lhasa — and he’ll be lucky if its the former.”

Spider-Man, 11/25/08

I’m not sure what’s more hilarious about today’s Spider-Man: that Big-Time’s real name is “Bigelow,” or that his flat-top Spidey-impersonator-for-hire is looking on in undisguised terror as he has a catty conversation with his ex-wife on his circa-1986 cordless phone.

(Bonus question: Is “Bigelow” funnier as a first name, or a last name?)

Blondie, 11/25/08

I’m pretty sure one of these guys has finally gotten up the nerve to make a pass at the other, only to have it fly by completely unnoticed; I’m just not certain which one was the passer and which one was the passee, yet.

Lockhorns and Hi and Lois, 11/25/08

In the new Great Depression, all comics will be about huddling together for warmth in the enormous suburban homes whose mortgages are so expensive that we can no longer afford to heat them.

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The Lockhorns and Marvin, 3/17/08

Usually, St. Patrick’s Day is considered a festive occasion, a celebration of Irish heritage, the extermination of paganism, and binge drinking. But two cartoons dared to use the day to explore the holiday’s darker side. For instance, what’s the origin of the myth of the leprechaun? Folklore experts will tell you that they’re the memory of the gods the Irish worshiped before St. Patrick came and made them all Christians, but the Lockhorns seems to indicate that perhaps their supposed gold-hoarding ways are a product of pure desperation. Loretta, staring glumly at the small piece of paper that says so much about financial ruin and public shame and prison, is so desperate for a way out that she latches onto the idea of tiny, imaginary spirit beings that can solve all their problems. Leroy, just as glum but still in touch with reality, can only look on in pained silence.

Meanwhile, an unimpressed Marvin has actually encountered one of the little Celtic sprites in the flesh, and boy, is he ever failing to live up to their reputation as adorable, happy-go-lucky creatures. His elfin visage instead tells a tale of depression and despair. I’m not sure if he never emotionally recovered from watching thousands of his countrymen die during the Hunger, while he, immortal and half-forgotten, could do nothing, or if he was interned for years without trial at Long Kesh by the Brits as a suspected IRA man, but he looks like he’s about to slit his tiny, pixie-like wrists.

Dick Tracy, 3/17/08

Man, it’s too bad that goth kids don’t as a rule read Dick Tracy, because “So you think I’m ugly? What’s really ugly is you for not knowing the world is spinning into degradation” would make a sweet yearbook quote.

Momma, 3/17/08

I’m pretty sure that Momma and her friend are having a thinly veiled discussion about their sons’ penises.

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Blondie, 2/15/08

I suppose by “old college sweatshirt” Dagwood means “sweatshirt I wore when I was in college,” but when I think “college sweatshirt” I would visualize a sweatshirt that has, you know, a college’s logo or mascot on it, or at least its name. Then again, Dagwood went to college during the Harding Administration, when there were probably only about ten or twelve active universities in the United States, so maybe the colors were enough. Back then, the mere sight of a blue and black garment let you know that you were in the presence of a graduate of Dagwood’s esteemed alma mater. I’m sure he has many fond memories of rooting on The Stripes on the base-ball field.

Gil Thorp, 2/15/08

You might recall that after the famed self-clubbing incident of early 2007, Tyler was banished to intensive psychiatric treatment. Obviously it worked like gangbusters. He’s gone all season without bludgeoning himself; and, what’s more, thanks to his new self-knowledge, he’s gained an almost uncanny insight into how the human psyche works. It’s almost as if he’s able to project himself out of his spit-curled head and into Andrew Gregory’s slightly longer spit-curled head. Gil and Kaz will be thankful for his help in this case, obviously, but may grow increasingly nervous about just what kind of mind-reading monster they’ve created.

Lockhorns, 2/15/08

The Lockhorns schtick is generally not difficult to wrap one’s head around — they hate each other, you see — so the occasional panel composed of complete nonsense is all the more surprising. Who exactly is Leroy playing chess against? Why are all the pieces the same color? Why does Loretta’s “sleepy eyes” face look exactly like her “black eyes from getting in a car wreck” face? And how does it all fit in with their endless attempts to destroy one another, as everything inevitably does?

Mark Trail, 2/15/08

This may be the greatest ever Mark Trail that doesn’t actually feature Mark punching anybody. At last, we get to see a bear dish out the punishment and hostility, though alas some kind of syndicate rule seems to forbid the depiction of the Neanderthal henchman being eviscerated, so we instead need to settle for the sight of him fleeing in terror unrealistically quickly. I do like the fact that the widow Malone seems to merely stand around arching her eyebrows sexily while her muscle is nearly mauled. “Sorry, the bullets in this rifle are only for the elimination of one Mark Trail, not for some great furry beast. Perhaps you should have made use of your own weapon rather than casting it aside and screaming ‘AHHHH..’, you bearded cretin!”

Marvin, 2/15/08

OK, Marvin, that’s … that’s enough with the ass jokes. For serious now.