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Beetle Bailey, 7/8/08

Let’s forget, for a moment, General Halftrack’s terrible problem with alcohol. Is it standard operating procedure at American military bases for the assembled troops to file by, band playing, while the commanding officer and his adjunct stare grimly down from a raised dais? This to me evokes not so much “America’s all-volunteer military” as “Moscow, circa 1982.” Actually, that does explain a lot about Halftrack’s ashen pallor, and his terrible problem with alcohol.

Luann, 7/8/08

Possible jobs for TJ that would justify his current outfit:

• Extremely natty pimp
• Nathan Detroit in dinner-theater production of Guys and Dolls

Have the DeGroots considered that Brad, who is TJ’s closest friend and who has lived with him for some time, might actually know where TJ gets his money, and that they could ask him without any embarrassment on their part? Ha ha, just kidding, we’ve watched Brad’s attempts at romance over the past couple of years, he obviously knows nothing about anything.

Marmaduke, 7/8/08

“And the way he expresses his dislike for things is with massive amounts of excrement, so you’d better brace yourself.”

Sally Forth, 7/8/08

Hmm, perhaps Alice needs to wait a bit before telling Sally about the hidden cameras. Or about SeeTedInseminateSally.com.

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Gil Thorp, 7/2/08

Don’t get me wrong, a two-week Sicilian vacation is pretty awesome. There’s nothing like opening up the window in the morning and looking down the hillside to the Mediterranean below, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll be splashing in its delightful blue waters. But then, there’s also nothing like getting up in the morning and seeing the total insanity that is Gil Thorp, so I can’t stay on vacation forever. I suppose that’s supposed to be Bugs McCoy standing on the dock there, but it looks more like some escapee from a nightmarish genetic research lab, its unformed potato-like head glistening facelessly in the morning sun. Then there’s panel two, in which Elmer proves that “average high school arm” is some sort of code for “disproportionally and hideously plump sausage-thing.” Upon deportation Elmer will be trapped in legal limbo at the border, since Mexico will refuse entry to this obviously dangerous mutant.

Marmaduke, 7/2/08

Given that Marmaduke can wear clothes, write English words, order bones over the Internet or possibly by phone, and, um, smoke cigars, I’m not actually convinced that we can rule out smoking in bed. I do admit that it seems more likely that some terrified citizen, tired of Marmaduke’s rule of slobbering canine terror over this hapless suburban community, has attempted to burn him to death while he slept.

Hagar the Horrible, 7/2/08

That’s pretty big talk coming from someone who appears to be wearing a hand-torn burlap sack. To say nothing of those damn potato-feet.

Luann, 7/2/08

dun da dun da DUNNN dun da dun da dun dunn

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Luann, 6/28/2008

We readers get to see TJ “Jheri” Rictus lookin’ forlorn every six months or so. It helps us tamp back the rage. But merciful heavens, one panel is not enough. Not nearly enough.

Dick Tracy, 06/28/2008

Dick’s been congratulating his own clever self on his 1337 crimefightin’ skillz for a couple weeks now, only to be undone by the night janitor. Is that why he’s moping in a mere “squad room” today, instead of his jaunty “squad pod”?

9 Chickweed Lane, 6/28/2008

Okay, um, Seth neglected Mark while scolding Edda for breaking up with Amos, so Mark, hurt, hinted darkly at infidelity, creating a rift Janice now tries to exploit. Mark values revenge against Seth, whom he loves, but protects the integrity, which she lacks, of Janice, whom he spurns. These people are unclear on concepts like “love”, “revenge”, and — most of all — “gay.” On the other hand, they have “middle school” nailed.

Apartment 3-G, 6/28/2008

Ah. The perfect trio to discover Alan in narcotic déshabillé back at the gallery — Margo for rage, Jack for muscle, and Gabriella for histrionics. Madre de Dios, we’re in for a good time next week! But first — cake!

Judge Parker, 06/28/2008

The second in our series: Who does Judge Parker think he is — Michael Patterson?

— Uncle Lumpy