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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/8/07

“I can bring home the bacon;
“Fry it up in a pan —
“And never, never, never let you forget
“You’re a total idiot.”

The Phantom, 9/8/07

This plot could go either way: “Ghost-Who-Cleans-up-Neighborhoods” or “Ghost-Who-Defends-Intellectual-Property.” But if I were little Tendai, I’d lay off the illegal downloads for a while. Just sayin’.

Mark Trail, 9/8/07

Here we have almost the entire Mark Trail gradient of good and evil: bald good-hearted Homer Moore, balding conflicted Mr. Thomas, shady sideburned Tom. NEXT: Tom hires ZZ Top and a gang of Hasidic rebbes to beat sense into Homer.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/07

Signs of the End Times: Nobody in this picture is maimed or dying. Everybody’s smiling.

Thanks to everybody who hit the Tip Jar or sent Josh a check this week, and for everybody’s patience with a week-long fundraiser. Judging by my mail and the comments, it looks like it was a big success; I know Josh will be thanking contributors individually once he’s back Sunday evening.

— Uncle Lumpy

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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