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Comic mockery takes character — the mental toughness to cackle at metastasis and ridicule heartbreak. That’s why we reserve special scorn for characters who surrender to mawkish sentimentality — as in today’s shameful display.

Mark Trail, 9/1/07

The more this Homer hangs around Shirley the Duck, the softer and balder he gets. On track toward the Omega Point of hairless virtue, he can face Mark without fear.

Mary Worth, 9/1/07

Introducing Playa Drew Corey’s Love Philosophy: “Let it Slide” — or, in his own taxonomy, “Let it Die.” Tell us how that works out for you, Drew, baby — we’ll be . . . waaaaaay over there. Oh, and Clambake called. He wants his hand back.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/1/07

Peter, you lame-ass. Make the evil-eye all you want, you are making coffee for your boss’s nanny. Got it? The Shocker would be ashamed — and that’s a looooong way down, pal!

Apartment 3G, 9/1/07

Who’s that gal muffin-toasting her new beau? Noooooooooo. . . .!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Spend half your life in school and the end of August brims with dread. Here comes!

Mark Trail, 8/31/07

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It begins with smiles — smiles and good, hot coffee savored with the one you love, in a special place in the sun it feels like God created just for you. But it ends in fists — fists, and hair.

So, Elrod — pick up the pace a little, willya?

Apartment 3G, 8/31/07

Oh, this will end in tears. Not only does Tommie have a chance at happiness — she has two, in the persons of Gary Bland and Dr. Joe Doctor. Apparently, this ages her from a toddler in panel 1 through panel 2’s young adult, to the garish, pitted, furrowed crone of #3. Tomorrow’s strip may have her crumbling to dust, muttering somebody’s name — but whose? Meanwhile, Margo’s fixin’ to hate on her, no matter how it turns out.

Funky Winkerbean, 8/31/07

It’s a measure of how far we’ve come in Funky Winkerbean that the arrival of Les’s bête bleu (extruded into the narrative as “my imagination’s wicked way of personifying depression”) is the most interesting thing to happen in months, birthchild reunion and Congressional testimony notwithstanding. With any luck, we’ll enjoy weeks of manufactured irony: “It’s Lisa who’s dying, but Les who is sick!”

Pearls Before Swine, 8/31/07

Theme or no theme, there’s some stuff you just can’t pass by. You gotta love panel 2’s Socialist Realist fanart of Jeffy, and the Dolly pennant. Dare we dream of a day when all the comics exist solely to mock other comics, and our work here is done? Because that would be a day, my droogies; that would be a day.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Blondie, 8/29/07

Long-time Blondie readers have always marvelled at the uncanny resemblance between Dagwood’s neighbor/golf buddy/source of free tools Herb Woodley and mailman Mr. Beasley. The same face, the same bulging forehead, the same mustache. Could they be long-lost relatives? Was Herb actually the neighborhood mailman, assuming a new name and identity as he walked his route for inscrutable reasons of his own? Today, though, as his long-firmly-attached hat goes flying, we learn that, unlike Herb, Mr. Beasley in fact completely bald. It is a testament to the power of the comics and the long-running features within that this has completely blown my fucking mind. Cynic that I am, I can’t stop looking at his bare head.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/29/07

ha ha ha foolish girl no patterson is ever free

Mark Trail, 8/29/07

I’m beginning to suspect that Shirley the Duck has special powers, and I don’t just mean her stunning plumage, which has won her drag king competitions all over Lost Forest. No, first she somehow convinced the construction foreman to halt work on this extremely important mall, and now she’s working her sinister magic on the son of the big boss himself! As more and more people come within range of her mind-control rays, her army will grow larger and larger, until that mall finds itself transformed into a Shirleytarium, dedicated to her care, feeding, and worship. There will be bread crumbs. Many, many bread crumbs.

Slylock Fox, 8/29/07

Wow, that lion is pissed — and, really, can you blame him? Most doctors don’t even take their patients’ pulse themselves, and here some nosey freelance detective is getting Panthera Leo, M.D., to put his hard-earned medical skills to use to bust someone for stealing magazines from the waiting room. I think someone’s going to have some angry words with the managers of Medical Plaza. Presumably the only way to calm him down will be to allow him to eat Slick Smitty, whether he’s guilty or not.