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Phantom, 4/28/09

Hey, kids! Remember the Jungle Patrol? This exciting Bangallan law enforcement agency featured into a Phantom storyline from year and change back, in which a lady cop and and waitress shook up that formerly all-male bastion by combining toughness, trigger-happiness, and lady parts. The story lasted long enough to prompt some t-shirtage, then faded into that narrative netherworld where all Phantom storylines go, presumably never to be heard from again.

Except! Today we do hear from these ladies again, as they prepare for another day of imposing law and order on the jungle, by way of patrolling. This reappearance of pre-existing non-Phantom, non-Phantom-relative, non-Guran-or-Old-Man-Mozz characters has pretty much blown my mind, so, sap that I am, I’m actually pretty eager to find out where this is going. Suggestion: the just-concluded-rather-abruptly storyline involved a sexy lady sea captain who seemed determined to make the Ghost Who Flirts her own, despite his married status, and the last Jungle Patrol storyline concluded by having our two feminist pioneers celebrate their empowerment by plotting dreamily to woo their Unknown Commander, so perhaps a four-or-more-way catfight is in our future.

Lockhorns, 4/27/09

“Like, you know, to orgasm.” [rim shot]

Apartment 3-G, 4/27/09

It’s true that I failed to acknowledge Joe’s hilarious umbrella-bludgeoning at the hands of Margo over the past few days; that’s because my job is to comment on the unusual and unexpected, and surely we all knew that when any blunt object is placed in Margo’s hands, a savage beating can’t be far off. On the other hand, who could have predicted that Joe’s ritual humiliation would reach its climax when some character that nobody recognized wandered in and offered to taser him? It’s these little moments of delight that keep us coming back to the comics page day after day.

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Mark Trail, 3/30/09

The tale of Bald Guy And Other Guy, The Dumbest Criminals Around, continues to roll onward in hilarious fashion. Here, Bald Guy, after a failed attempt to buy Rusty’s fancy digital camera and the incriminating photos within, rips the thing out of his hands so vigorously as to send the hapless urchin tumbling backwards. So far so good, but then Bald Guy’s face is mysteriously clouded by terror, and he hurls some cash and what appears to be his wallet at the boy before scampering off on his elevator shoes. It all leads one to wonder what crime this duo might be on the lam for in the first place. Did they rob a bank and then carefully fill out a withdrawal slip?

Gil Thorp, 3/30/09

“Oh, hey,” you almost certainly were not thinking, “Whatever happened with 6-foot-9 Jeff ‘The ’Czak’ Ponczak, and his buddy Matt the Hat, in their new gig running Marty Moon’s old cable access show?” Well, they’re still wearing the exact same stupid clothes and throwing up the exact same stupid fake gang signs as they were five months ago. (Matt appears to have added a stupid vest to his ensemble, but the hat remains his trademark outfit component, which he emphasizes by pointing at it in panel two.) Panel three shows us Coach Thorp and Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp watching their antics and saying coaching-type things in response, which is really too bad, as what we want to see is Marty watching their antics and doing crying-type things in response.

Slylock Fox, 3/30/09

Don’t bother reading the tedious explanatory text, which is just Slylock’s desperate spin after Max caught him changing into his giant rat costume; our favorite detective is actually suiting up for Midwest Furfest ’09, which, when you consider the fact that he’s already an anthropomorphic fox, ought to blow your mind.

The no doubt crotchless fursuits aside, I’m pretty sure that this is the first time we’ve seen Sly in his off-duty clothes. The green plaid jacket, yellow bow tie, and polka-dotted (or possibly just lint-speckled) baby blue slacks make his Sherlock Holmes get-up look positively normal.

Lockhorns, 3/30/09

When I first read this, I thought that this, as backhanded and twisted as it is, might be the first vaguely nice thing I’d ever seen Leroy do for his wife. Then I caught a glimpse of whatever that is in the box, and tried to imagine an item of lingerie that was that particularly barftastic shade of orange. Then I closed my eyes and rested my head on the desk.

I also have my doubts about any store that thinks polo shirts qualify as “lingerie.” At first I thought the puke-green specimen on display behind the counter was some sort of terrible combination of the polo shirt and the belly shirt, but then I realized that it was actually the perfect size for the torso of your typically dwarfish Lockhorns character.

Dick Tracy, 3/30/09

“Worried? Yeah, you might say I’m worried. I’m worried that my chin has sliced open my finger badly enough that I’ll need stitches. I’m worried that your head will soon be so large that your neck won’t be able to hold it up. I’ve got a lot on my mind, Tess.”

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Blondie and The Lockhorns, 3/16/09

As a result of this confluence of comic themes, I thought perhaps that there was some sort of nationwide blood drive going on today, of which I would naturally be unaware because the very thought of a needle makes me weep like a pathetic little baby and vomit in terror. Still, about thirty seconds of Google searching (all the research I’m ever willing to do for anything, because I am one of The Kids Today) seems to rule out that idea, so I guess it’s just one of those occasional cartoon coincidences. That’s just as well, as neither today’s Blondie nor today’s Lockhorns would really inspire people to go give the life-saving gift of blood; instead, they’ll just associate this selfless act with their their terrible job or their soul-killing marriage, respectively.

Gasoline Alley, 3/16/09

It looks like there’s some middle-aged, somewhat hard of hearing, working-class romance brewing in Gasoline Alley! Which is great, as it will surely keep the loathsome Slim out of the narrative eye, but I find panel two, in which Gertie stares straight out at us and demands that we, the readers, acknowledge our attractiveness and update her on dinner, kind of unnerving. Perhaps if I still read comics in the paper, I’d have gotten the 3-D glasses that are an integral part of this very special Gasoline Alley experience.

Apartment 3-G, 3/16/09

“I hope you like olives!” Vaguely promising, but, you know, it’s still Tommie, so not sexy at all.

UPDATE: Sorry, kids, your faithful blogger was way behind and is sleepy — COTW coming tomorrow morning!