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Apartment 3-G, 11/19/08

So, that killjoy Lu Ann has finally left town, and we all know what that means — BOOZE PARTY IN APARTMENT 3-G, WOO-HOO! Even though it probably won’t end with drunken makeouts, it will still be the greatest: Margo will go on at length about all the men she’s ever slept with and all the men she’s ever killed (the two lists have significant overlap), Ruby will giggle girlishly and tell increasingly humiliating stories about how stupid Lu Ann was as a little girl, and Tommie will sit on the couch staring blankly ahead with her collar buttoned up to the very top button.

Mary Worth, 11/19/08

Oh my God, Mary and Lynn’s hands are about to touch in panel one. Hot … HOTT. Unfortunately, something happened in panel two that worried Mary. We know it must be something serious, because Mary’s far too unflappable to be startled by a little bold font, but I’m at a loss to say what it might be. Is Lynn spontaneously urinating with grief all over the bed? I guess I’ll be forced to tune in tomorrow to find out! And then back to the hand touching.

Mark Trail, 11/19/08

Oh, Rabbit! With each panel in today’s strip, your sneer gets more twisted with hate for everyone — hate for Mark Trail and his lucky punches, hate for your long-suffering wife who always complains about you spending all your time chaining raccoons to logs, hate for this fancy businessman who just thinks he can buy and sell you, which is all the more galling because he can — and yet you work your way further into my heart. I won’t be sorry when your blue baseball cap goes flying through the air again, three to six weeks from now, but I’ll still feel a little bad about your failed search for a place in a world you never made.

By the way, if Charlie gave me an offer like the one he’s giving Rabbit here, this is how I’d go about things:

1. Take the $2,500.
2. Give Mark $2,000 to leave town.
3. Get the other $2,500.
4. Use $3,000 to hire a production company to pitch “Dog vs. Raccoon” to the Discovery Channel, Versus, or ESPN 3.

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Crock, 11/18/08

You know, I’ve become accustomed to being unamused, irritated, or actively angered at the jokes in Crock; but I’m a little unsettled at being completely befuddled by the jokes in Crock, as I am today. Passing over the oddity of someone insulting an immobile desert plant for spending all day in the sun, what on earth are we to make of the cactus’s riposte? Is it meant to mock us for driving, as if the only way to get out of the sun is to drive to shade? Is “sitting all day at four bucks a gallon” a reference to all the time we sit in our cars, which is a choice we make, whereas a cactus must spend the day in the sun due to biological necessity? Is there a heretofore unexplored traffic problem around the Foreign Legion outposts in the Maghrebi desert?

Anyway, normally I’d see something like a giant orange cactus and think “Ha ha, another colorist screw-up!” But in this case, I think it might be an attempt to distract the reader from the nonsensical punchline.

Mark Trail, 11/18/08

Oh my God, if you work at a newspaper, and/or have access to newspaper layout software, and you can create a fake newspaper front page like the one in panel one — with FAMOUS CONSERVATIONIST RESCUES RACCOON screaming across six columns of type, and an enormous picture of Mark and Sneaky, and what appears to be some kind of sidebar story in the rightmost column (“Mysterious ‘Rabbit’ Unrepentant, Soggy”) — then you will be my personal hero. Well, one of my personal heroes, anyway, because right now my personal hero is Jack Elrod, for not letting this story end with a single punch but rather setting up further punching opportunities by having our two villains join forces. I’m particularly in love with the image of Charlie cruising around the rough part of town (or the local gas station, whatever) looking for a raccoonnapping yokel with a chip on his shoulder and a bruise on his jaw.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/18/08

The next two to four weeks of Funky Winkerbean, in a nutshell: HOLY CRAP GIRLS PLAY SPORTS NOW smirking, foreboding

Crankshaft, 11/18/08

The next two to four weeks of Crankshaft, in a nutshell: HOLY CRAP GIRLS DRIVE BUSES NOW smirking, terrible puns

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Mark Trail, 11/15/08

As a special gift to all of us, because we’ve been so good, Mark Trail is extending the Magical Moment of Fisticuffs for us for another day’s worth of punchy bliss. In today’s panel one, we seem to be seeing the same frozen-in-amber post-punch moment depicted in yesterday’s panel three, but from a different angle; however, Mark’s bellowed dialog has gone from passably bad-ass (“DOES THIS CONVINCE YOU?”) to stilted run-through-the-automated-translator-from-who-knows-what (“THIS LITTLE CONTEST OF YOURS IS UNLAWFUL”). The question is: did Mark have time to shout both of these things at Mr. Rabbit (or whatever his name is) as he tumbled slowly back into the murky swamp water? Or did Rabbit pop back up like a Weeble-Wobble sometime between yesterday and today, giving Mark a chance to lay down another punch and get in another awkward little bon mot?

The rest is no less delightful for being par for the course: Mark admonishes the gathered off-camera yokels, who sit by and do nothing, then breaks Sneaky’s chains with his bare hands and carries him off to safety. For the sake of Mark’s ego, I hope that the adorable raccoon waits until they’re out his backwoods tormentors’ sight before launching his entirely unprovoked attack on Mark’s eyes.

(Psst! This is a perfect time for you to pick up some Fist O’ Justice stuff from the Comics Curmudgeon store!)

Herb and Jamaal, 11/15/08

You know, every once in a while I say to myself, “Oh, the Herb-and-Jamaal-is-hilariously-nonspecific bit is getting old,” but then the strip goes and gets even more hilariously nonspecific. In today’s panel one, Jamaal ensures that those reading this strip in an anthology published in the middle of the 21st century will be able to relate the joke to their own experiences during the Great Disco Revival of the 2030s.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/15/08

Considering that this backwoods medico is asking our hero if he’s bothered by the sight of blood and advancing on him with what appears to be a scalpel, Snuffy Smith looks awfully chipper. My first guess was that the doctor assumes (correctly) that Snuffy would not be missed if he were to be sliced up and his organs harvested, but then I realized that nobody would want his moonshine-drenched kidneys or hog-fat-choked heart.

Apartment 3-G, 11/15/08

After a tragic romance with a brooding, no-talent, junkie urbanite, it’s not surprising that Lu Ann wants to hop into the arms of a fresh-faced Dakotan. Soon, though, she’ll learn that rural folk have drug problems too, with Cody addicted to trailer-made meth — or, as the locals call it, “prairie dope.”

For Better Or For Worse, 11/15/08

Yes, who said newspapers would become obsolete? Certainly nobody in the late ’70s, when this strip ostensibly takes place.