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Six Chix and Marmaduke, 10/5/11

I was pretty sure that today’s frankly S&M-themed Six Chix was the most perverse thing I’d see on the comics page today. Then I saw Marmaduke, and remembered that looking at Marmaduke is always like looking down a long, dark tube, at the end of which is the most terrifying hell you can imagine. It’s funny because he’s got melted-faced zombie Hitler on a leash, you see! Makes our cute li’l ginger dominatrix and her shirtless slave look positively wholesome.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/5/11

Speaking of unspeakable perversity, this strip would be bad enough if it were just about a pig who understood both English speech and the fact that she would be someday killed, dismembered, and eaten. But the fact that someone has added a prettifying bow to her head makes me all the queasier. Are we supposed to think that Lukey can’t bring himself to turn her into delicious pork because he’s bewitched by her beauty? What of the cheefully oblivious non-bowed pig who makes an appearance in panel two — does he know what awful things his fellow swine has to do, just to keep the two of them alive?

Slylock Fox, 10/5/11

2) The human hair that right now is lying on your head in a great, heavy heap is dead, dead, dead, and is basically a part of you that’s already a cadaver. Answer — 2) True! Your whole body is covered with death! Remember, kids, be sure you have plenty of Bactine on hand before you start screaming and pulling out all your corpse-hair in huge, bloody chunks.

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Blondie, 8/20/11

Signs you’ve been in the comics-mocking business too long: you find yourself growing outraged that Dagwood isn’t heading to his usual aggressively wacky drive-through fast-food joint, Clown Burger, whose “Say … then pay!” motto strips down the industrially farmed beef acquisition process to its barest essence. Sports Burger, while even more drably named, seems intent on riding its gimmick hard, forcing its poor employees to engage in faux-football banter that they’re surely not being paid enough to spout with any real enthusiasm. Over at Clown Burger, the only clowniness comes in the form of the no doubt grubby ceramic clown head that you shout your order into. Still, I guess I can’t fault Dagwood for craving a little variety; since he seems to eat about nine meals a day, he needs to spread his food-purchasing love around a bit.

Marmaduke, 8/20/11

I really enjoy the insouciant way that Marmaduke’s owners’ daughter is lording over this empire of crime, sprawled casually as she is in an overstuffed easy chair that Marmaduke no doubt dragged from some poor soul’s living room in the midst of an orgy of screams and broken glass and carnage. He’ll allow her to believe that she’s part of his kleptomaniacal posse, right up to the part where he eats her.

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Apartment 3-G, 7/19/11

Much to my irritation, Apartment 3-G seems convinced that hinting at but not revealing the details of Margo’s latest hilariously wrongheaded money-making scheme constitutes “building suspense.” Still, I have to admit that I’m kind of hypnotized by Tommie’s breakfast preparation. First she holds up her box of cereal (and kudos to her for finally graduating from “Cereal”-brand cereal to the slightly more exciting “Bran Bits”), then sets it down somewhere off panel, then picks up her carton of milk. Since her hand isn’t visible in either frame, I guess she’s holding both containers from the bottom, maybe to up the degree of difficulty for some reason? If we’re really lucky, maybe tomorrow we’ll see the bowl. I don’t know if we’ve earned that.

Marmaduke, 7/19/11

Ha ha, yes, “head of household” jokes, these certainly would have been interesting and relevant when everyone was filling out their census form (a year and a half ago) or during tax season (three months ago). Of course, it’s possible that Phil has been sitting there transfixed by Marmaduke’s huge terrifying demon-eyes for all that time, not daring to write anything on the form, not daring to do anything at all.

Mary Worth, 7/19/11

“Light up the sky?” Is that a sex thing? I dearly hope that’s not a sex thing.