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Family Circus, 10/30/06

There’s always some sort of twisted psychodrama going on this ostensibly innocent little feature. Today, I’m wondering why Jeffy looks so damn depressed about Billy’s unfunny little joke. Some possibilities as to what might be running around his misshapen head:

• “Mommy’s wrong and preacher’s right! There really are such things as witches, and evil and the devil are real!”
• “Uh oh, Billy’s on to my initiation into the dark arts. I need to cast some sort of hex on him to keep him out of my business.”
• “‘Baby witches?’ This is my big brother who I’m supposed to look up to? Jesus, I don’t know if he’s this stupid or if he thinks that I am.”
• “Uh oh, I pooped my pants again.”

For Better Or For Worse, 10/30/06

OK, let’s for a moment assume that the crowd is going to go wild for the Hose-O-Phonium (which of course it wouldn’t in any rational world, but we are way past any rational world, baby). And let’s assume, against all evidence, that Uncle Phil really is the cool professional jazz-ish musician we’re told he is. And let’s assume that the endeavor on display here — the attempt of 4Evah and Eva to upstage the professional and talented (but still, of course, whorish and evil) RebaccaH — is a noble one. So, basically, Apes and her little friends are bringing in an adult professional to humiliate a thirteen-year-old. Nice. Shannon is so embarrassed by the whole thing that she’s attempting to escape through some kind of trapdoor in the floor, which is the only explanation I can come up with for why she comes up to about April’s navel in panel two.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/30/06

Ah, Mrs. Dr. Morgan, always trying to bring a little positive energy and dignity to a thankless world. Because who cares if the people in line behind her have to wait even longer than she did, she’s determined to make friendly chit-chat with this underpaid bureaucrat. It’s a bad idea, though: check out the seam down the side of the teller’s face in panel two. That’s no human clerk, it’s a pitiless android, and when it says “the clock keeps ticking,” it’s in deadly earnest: if June uses up her allotted time and the transaction isn’t complete, the DMV-bot will vaporize her with lasers from its eyes. So let’s get a move on, lady.

Luann, 10/30/06

So does it still count as an infuriating rehash if you get all post-modern and have one of the characters note that it’s an infuriating rehash? Yes, yes it does. Tune in next week when Luann has an awkward phone conversation with Aaron, and Bernice stands behind her with an enormous sign that says “NOTE: THIS STRIP IS ‘PHONING IT IN.'”

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Luann, 9/21/06

How much of a loser is Brad DeGroot? Well, I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t exactly have a strong internal sense of interior design, so his enthusiasm for the house must be based entirely on its present decor. And since this has been Mrs. Horner’s house for about ever, we can assume that it’s done up more or less like a home in a TDIET panel. (And let’s say nothing of the old lady smell.) This, then, is Brad’s dream crib. “Oh, the textured olive-green rug in the living room really goes nicely with the matching green glass chandelier, and … ooh, look! Hummels!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/21/06

Boy, I’m beginning to see why Rex might want to find comfort in the arms of another. Hmmm, you were held hostage at gunpoint for the better part of an afternoon? BORRR-ing! But wait! I have to make a few phone calls to my credit card companies? DAMN YOU, MYSTERIOUS PURSE-SNATCHER! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL! June’s so angry she appears to be transforming into a Bratz™ doll in panel three.

So, where do you all think the Rex Morganians are going with this? My guess: Identity theft! Proving once and for all that June Morgan is no plugger.

Marmaduke, 9/21/06

I couldn’t tell you why, exactly, but this image is for me by far the most unsettling one in the comics today. I suppose that’s supposed to be a trap door (that Marmadue opened from the inside?) but to me it looks like an arbitrary chunk of ceiling that’s been mysteriously removed so that the sinister Great Dane can just stare down at his owners with his huge, soulless eyes.

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Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/06

Is Funky Winkerbean where joy goes to die? It’s not enough to have Mopey McMopester slouching around and complaining because his best friend is finally getting some; apparently, his face needs to be drawn to make it look like he’s been crying more or less constantly for the past three days. My prediction is that our jilted nerd will eventually get together with this gothy Asian chick; but, by the time they get around to doing glum, black-clad things to one another, the other kid and the cheerleader will have broken up. Either that, or Chien and Jessica have some longstanding beef that will sunder this friendship for good. Because nobody can be happy in Funky Winkerbean, ever.

Luann, 9/8/06

Meanwhile, there are changes afoot at a much happier high school, as Gunther and Luann do a half-assed thought-balloon version of the classic dialogue from Double Indemnity. I wonder if what Luann is wondering is, “Jesus, how is it possible for Gunther to have tiny, beady little pupils and no eyeballs to speak of? And what’s the deal with the huge expanse of skin between his eyes and his eyebrows?” That’s what I’m wondering, anyway.

Pluggers, 9/8/06

Q. How many pluggers does it take to reinforce traditional gender roles?

A. All of them.

This strip, which is apparently so retrograde that it the Chief Plugger got tired of waiting for someone to submit it and just whipped it up himself, poses an interesting philosophical question: Is there such a thing as a female plugger? Or is Pluggerdom an all-male brotherhood, with the best that anyone without external genitalia can hope for being the lesser but still honorable title of “plugger’s wife”? While this cartoon seems to imply the latter, remember that the Fox-Woman (or is she a kangaroo? or some kind of dog?) has already been established to have a job that involves wearing a suit, which complicates matters: maybe there are she-pluggers, but this woman is only a plugger-in-law. She’s clearly acclimating real nice, though. Wouldn’t want those soft, feminine hands, good for cleaning dishes and spanking li’l pluggers, all calloused up by rough, strenuous man’s work like changing the light bulbs. Hope you’re don’t mind sitting in the dark till your husband gets back from the pawn shop, lady.

Mary Worth, 9/8/06

You know you’re in trouble when the Woody Allen defense suddenly seems like a good idea.