Post Content

Mark Trail, 3/19/12

RUN! IT’S NOT THE COPS!

Mary Worth, 3/19/12

On Santa Royale’s exclusive Strada Fellini, Nola chats with an imaginary friend on her invisible phone as her bag levitates nearby. A mannequin beckons.

Suddenly, disgraced executive Dan Smithers emerges from his spin on the world’s fastest downward spiral. Disheveled hair? Check! Patchy stubble? Belligerent scowl? Clenched fist? Check, check, and check!

But Dan hasn’t let himself go completely — look at that impeccably custom-tailored down-and-out suit he ordered a few weeks back:

“Ats-a too far back for a pocket, signore Smithers!”
“It’s for a hip flask, Tony — gotta be on my hip, or what’s the point?”
“OK, but the pocket she’s-a too short! All the booze she’s-a gonna fall out!”
“People expect to see the booze, Tony — this is Mary Worth!”
“OK, but all this work its-a gonna cost you!”
“That’s all right — I stole enough to cover it.”

Marvin, 3/19/12

Decisions, decisions — grunt out a labored comparison between peer and peristaltic pressure, or plop down the wry observation that Marvin’s beloved toy is a dump truck? Oops, I’ve disgusted myself. Crap!

You know, if Marvin’s retrograde toilet habits really bother his parents so much, they could just stop feeding him. No one would complain. They’ve brought this on themselves.

Hmpf. I wonder if there’s anything interesting going on in Marmaduke?

Marmaduke, 3/19/12

Nope.

— Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

Crankshaft, 3/6/12

Despite my (too many) years of reading Crankshaft, I’ve only just at this moment realized that Keesterman, the guy whose mailbox Crankshaft is constantly destroying due to his dangerous inability to operate a schoolbus, is also one of the guys who meets Crankshaft and some other old dudes at a sad chain diner where they drink coffee and pun sullenly and probably leave stingy tips. The endless mailbox-annihilation incidents might explain why Keesterman has finally snapped, looking in panel three like he’s going to react to Crankshaft’s mild ribbing with a punch to the face, something I dearly hope we get to see over the remainder of the week, from several different angles.

Hi and Lois, 3/6/12

We’ve seen some intermittent attempts to make Hi and Lois’ marriage interesting, but frankly I think there’s much more drama to be wrung from the lives of the Flagstons’ next-door neighbors. Check out Irma’s disgruntled look in the final panel: not only is her family mired in debt, but that means that she can’t even have a nice party without it devolving into recriminations and violence, which to her is the worst indignity.

Beetle Bailey, 3/6/12

There are occasional Beetle Baileys in which our heroes (?) are fighting something called the “Red Army,” and while it’s usually clear from context that these are training exercises, it would be fun to believe that today’s strip takes place in an alternate universe where the men of Camp Swampy have been deployed into combat against the Soviet Union, and that, as you’d expect, their division has been quickly defeated and its few survivors are now being rounded up. Given the creepy fact that we see no people attached to these massive gun barrels, it’s also possible that the Red Army is a band of out-of-control military death-bots, who are making short work of their hapless biological adversaries, not least thanks to the humans’ inability to function without technology that’s controlled by the cyber-enemy.

Hagar the Horrible, 3/6/12

Lucky Eddie has blatantly stolen this joke from Groucho Marx, but I’m not going to get too upset about it because in a minute he’s going to be mauled to death by bears for his crimes.

Marvin, 3/6/12

Yesterday I praised Marvin for grappling with interesting themes and avoiding scatological content. Naturally, today’s strip features the smug hell-infant boasting that he can just shit in his pants whenever he wants.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/6/12

If you’ve enjoyed this Herb and Jamaal strip about burping, why not enjoy the four paragraphs I somehow managed to write about it, back when it first ran in 2004?

Post Content

Marvin, 3/5/12

Today’s Marvin actually raises some interesting philosophical questions! What does Marvin’s mom mean exactly when she says her child is “old enough to know better”? From panel one, it’s clear that he’s reached the point in his cognitive development where he’s capable of constructing rudimentary tools to get what he wants; does she believe that the ability to control one’s environment ought to coincide with an understanding of how such control might conflict with the prevailing ethical system? That might be theoretically elegant, but perhaps she’s encountering a sociobiological counterpoint to that argument, in which our inbuilt desires run wildly ahead of the layer of civilizing rules we’ve created to try to restrain them, and the only recourse is punishment. Getting old does stink, Marvin, as it means learning to say no to the fun things we’ve just learned how to do, to keep total chaos at bay.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/5/12

Rex is trying to short-circuit this whole storyline and skip ahead to the part where he gets to stop caring about everything. “Too bad we don’t know any screenwriters! And really, where would we even find such people? They’re like reclusive monks, toiling away in secret. Best to drop the whole thing. Say, this is some pretty delicious yogurt!”

Gil Thorp, 3/5/12

Since Gil benched one of his star players to make a point about mild tattoo-related shenanigans (that point being “Gil doesn’t like your cultural practices, young people”), the Mudlarks have lost their first chance at a championship in years. I like the third panel because it demonstrates that some kids buy Gil’s inspirational bullshit and some don’t. Blond kid on right: “He’s right! I can feel my character being built by this heartbreaking, unnecessary defeat!” Dark-haired kid on left: “Enh, no, I still would have rather won the game. Think I’ll go get some tattoos that reflect my new grim worldview.”

Six Chix, 3/5/12

So these ladies are supposed to be … lady mobsters? That’s what their outfits are meant to convey to us? And they’ve murdered someone, for tweeting? But that — oh, look at the time, I’ve spent far too long contemplating this Six Chix, now I think I’ll go do anything else.