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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/22/09

Wow, that big-eyed grinning severed teddy bear head in the third panel is certainly one of the more horrifying things I’ve seen today, yet it’s worth noting that, as the first panel shows, it’s only slightly less frightening while dangling detached from a dog’s jaws than it was when firmly attached to its original body. I can’t imagine ever giving such a nightmare-fueling monstrosity to a child, but I suppose that Li’l Tater will see worse things in the cesspool of incest and clan feuds that is Hootin’ Holler, so one might as well accustom the lad to horror from the get-go. And so why not attach the teddy bear head to what I assume is the skin of a real bear in some sort of unsettling hybrid? (The question of whatever became of the real head originally attached to the bearskin rug is best not thought about at any length.)

I do have to admit that the fifth panel, in which Loweezy holds the bear head gingerly by the ears and regards it dubiously while her useless husband cheerfully wanders off to get drunk on corn likker and then shoot at things, is a little masterpiece.

Mary Worth, 11/22/09

Well, it looks like Delilah’s sudden and discombobulating reappearance this week is really just meant to serve as a sort of a coda to Adrian and Scott’s story, the relevance of which I’d have an easier time parsing if I could remember what exactly the point of Delilah’s story was in the first place. Uh, true love triumphs over adversity, given enough time? Yeah, let’s go with that. Mostly I just feel bad that poor Leonard Cohen had to get dragged into this; he, along with Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova and Daniel Johnston, are victims of this strip’s ongoing attempt to destroy the reputation of various hipster indie musicians by associating them with Mary Worth.

Crankshaft and Funky Winkerbean, 11/22/09

A man tries to relax by rediscovering his favorite music, only to receive an unwelcome reminder of his own mortality; another man suffers from recurring stress nightmares, years after being forced to retire from the job that prompted them, and wonders when they’ll finally stop haunting him. A relaxing Sunday afternoon in the Funkyverse, everybody!

Mark Trail, 11/22/09

“The ocean without kelp is like the Earth without trees. That’s why we’re harvesting all the kelp for chemical and industrial purposes. Soon there will be no more kelp, just like there will soon be no more trees!”

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/22/09

I thought that those of you who don’t read Rex Morgan except when I mention it here might enjoy this panel, which features Tim throttling the hapless Cue, who soon provided the requested information. See, torture works! Specifically, Cue told Tim that Henry and Pearl had wandered off, which means that we’ll have to endure yet more oldster pursuit across various waterlogged golf courses.

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Mark Trail, 11/21/09

Bob sure seems to know that the best way to get into Mark’s good graces is to do violence to the faces of the enemies of wildlife. But is he trying a little too hard? I mean, the kicking-two-bad-guys-in-the-face-while-dangling-from-a-tree-limb move … it makes Mark’s right cross seem a little pedestrian, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s why he’s engaging in casual conversation as he gets his fisticuffs on. Of course, orangeshirt and yellowshirt are still standing in panel two, so perhaps Mark is grateful for the opportunity to show that vigilante justice is best dished out by hands, not feet, and specifically by the knuckle part of the hands.

Mary Worth, 11/22/09

Mary’s tiny, pinpoint pupils in panel two, as she slathers platitude upon platitude onto a poor woman who she’s already bent to her will, really demonstrate why Mary does what she does. Meddling for her directly activates the pleasure centers of her brain more powerfully than any narcotic you can name.

Luann, 11/21/09

Ha ha, you can try to de-exoticize yourself all you want, Quill, but Luann will attempt to “share her bounty” with you whether you want her to or not — possibly during Thanksgiving dinner, when her mom is distracted by making sure Brad and Toni are at least six inches apart at all times.

Pluggers, 11/21/09

Pluggers don’t believe in “legal rights” or “due process” or a bunch of namby-pamby crap like that. When pluggers take over, there will be an 11 o’clock curfew, for everyone, with summary execution for those who disobey.

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Mark Trail, 11/18/09

Here’s a question for you: am I spoiled by Mark Trail? I mean, yes, this is the sort of wordless action strip that makes the feature worth reading, and yes, Mark has waded into the swamp to deliver a crushing blow to an alligator’s mouth, without regard for his personal safety, in order to save his mutant ward’s whiny little dog. I should just be able to sit back and enjoy it! And yet … well, he’s not using his fists, is he? He’s using a tool to do his fighting for him. Sure, for an ordinary human punching an alligator would be a recipe for certain death, but Mark is not ordinary, and may not even be human. When his violent righteousness turns on the poachers, as it inevitably will, will Mark think, “Hey, I am already holding this stick! It helped me beat the alligator — maybe it will help me defeat these men as well!” And once there’s an intermediary object between Mark and his targets, well, it’s all downhill from there. The next think you know, he’ll be suing them, or writing angry letters to the editor about their misdeeds.

Gil Thorp, 11/18/09

Today is the day that reveals the true shape of Gil Thorp’s football season B-plot: it’s Cyrano de Bergerac, if Cyrano were a band geek, and instead of feeding love poetry to Christian he just gave him recaps of high-school volleyball games, and while watching the whole drama you kept waiting for the action to switch back to Christian’s teammate’s brother in prison. Still, I have a feeling that Valerie will learn that the person who really enjoyed watching her play volleyball was a slightly cross-eyed clarinet player, and true love will blossom at last!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/18/09

You know, I really and truly would have been delighted if the whole Becka-Tim side story ended up being entirely tangental to the plot, with Cue successfully negotiating the return of the wayward oldsters with the crooked nursing home operator while Becka fended off Tim’s ham-handed advances. But now it appears that the two narrative threads will finally meet, so I’m hoping that the fisticuffs between the exceptionally dim small-time marijuana dealer and the socially awkward fishing magazine writer will at least be kind of hilarious.

Apartment 3-G, 11/18/09

“Kitchen staff” no doubt sets alarm bells off in Ari’s head. “Wait, she used to be rich, and now the only person she can afford to exploit to get her meds is me? Danger, danger!”

(By the way, if you’re trying woo a pill-popper with rice pudding in actual New York, might I suggest Rice to Riches at 37 Spring Street in Manhattan? YUMMY!)