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Marvin, 1/22/09

If there’s one thing that Marvin does well repeatedly, it’s come up with some labor-saving gimmick joke that can serve as a template for multiple days worth of material. We all remember the week of pure horror that was “Belly Laffs,” in which each new day proved just how not-funny a joke about women gaining weight when they’re pregnant can get. If there’s anything to console us during this cryspace.com nightmare, it’s that we started in the middle of the week, which means that we have at most two more days of this left.

Also, as a red-headed American, I resent the implication that the lady gingers need to bill themselves as blondes in order to increase their sex appeal. Nobody can dispute the attractiveness of redheads, people! And as a human being with a shred of decency, I am disgusted by the idea of a baby making her profile sexy, what the hell, this is monstrous beyond description.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/22/09

Little Sarah has always been a precocious child, and that, combined with the affluent upbringing her father’s medical practice has provided, may be bringing her down a very dark path, as she seems extremely intrigued by the prospect of joining this wizened alcoholic aristocrat in hunting a wily urchin for sport. “Come, child, let me tell you about the thrills of the most dangerous game!”

Apartment 3-G, 1/22/09

Some people have doubted whether Margo is really as awe-inspiring and terrifying as all that. All I can say is that if any roommate of mine had left me a list of imperative mood verbs like the one seen here, I’d respond less with a resigned sigh and more with a string of obscenities. Either Margo really can kill with her mind, or the surreptitious, never-talked-about sex must be amazing.

Marmaduke, 1/22/09

“Howling at the moon,” ha! Marmaduke is actually summoning his demonic Master to appear and accept the blood sacrifice of these two innocents. Naturally, Marmaduke will carry out this sacrifice himself.

Momma, 1/22/09

Ha ha, Momma called her daughter a tramp! A tramp wearing a tiny, tiny lampshade as a hat.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/21/09

As a native Buffalonian, I resent Margo’s implication that “upstate” is a great place to go bury bodies or answering machines with terrifying messages or whatever else she’s planning to dispose of out there. (Yes, Buffalo is technically Western New York, not Upstate New York, but devout Manhattanites use “upstate” as a blanket term for anything north of Columbia University, and if you need any confirmation of Margo’s devotion, just look at how resentful she is at the very thought of letting the sun go down on her in Schenectady or wherever.) Does she think that the whole state outside of her precious Five Boroughs consists of nothing but decaying, abandoned industrial sites, or vast stretches of barren wasteland punctuated by the occasional slowly collapsing barn, where she can just hide evidence of criminal wrongdoing at will? I mean, she’d be right, but that doesn’t mean that we want snooty urbanites with their fancy New York City corpses messing up all the good hiding spots.

Herb and Jamaal, 1/21/09

Usually Herb and Jamaal’s primary mission is to suck all the fun and enjoyment out of the English language by making it as bland and nonspecific as possible, but I really like this new euphemism for masturbation that it’s introduced today. “I spent the evening in, ‘dating my shadow,’ if you know what I mean.”

Marvin, 1/21/09

Good lord, as if rendezvousing in person with someone you first met online wasn’t already fraught enough, can you imagine if you meet some guy you’ve been chatting with and are sort of excited about, and he turns out to be a literal, actual baby? Especially if he were a loathsome, hateful baby, like Marvin?

Spider-Man, 1/21/09

Spider-Man, well aware of his intellectual limitations, is right to ! in the final panel. If the little boy’s statement is correct, it’s a wonder that Batman can even figure out how to chew.

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Spider-Man, 1/2/09

If there’s one thing you have to respect Spider-Man for, it’s its recognition of its own narrative limitations. A strip with more self-confidence might try to weave a coherent storyline, dropping crucial bits of information in expository dialog that’s been carefully tailored to seem natural, to establish the changed dramatic milieu. But the Spider-Man newspaper strip would fail utterly at that, obviously, so instead it just keeps interrupting itself every few panels to shriek “THIS IS WHAT’S HAPPENING! IT’S FOR REASONS RELATED TO THE COMIC BOOK, WHICH YOU DON’T READ! ISN’T IT AWESOME AND INTRIGUING?” at you.

By the way, contrary to anything the final panel might have you believe, there will be absolutely no surprises in store in the Spider-Man newspaper strip ever again, or at least not until it makes another arbitrary time/profession/relationship jump eighteen months after something vaguely similar happens in the comic books. “Now Spidey is divorced, working as a systems analyst, and living in Bay Ridge! He’s still a putz, though.”

Marvin, 1/2/09

I have no idea why Marvin, who revels in his non-potty-trained status, is in this grim death-line to the now-extended family’s single toilet. Presumably he’s going to wait until everyone starts feeling really uncomfortable due to nature’s call, then crap in his pants, just because he can.

Apartment 3-G, 1/2/09

It was probably inevitable that the Battle Between Gary And Dr. Kelly For Tommie’s Love would eventually devolve into The Battle Between Gary And Dr. Kelly In Which Each Attempts To Fob Tommie’s Love Off Onto The Other.

Ziggy, 1/2/09

Jeez, Ziggy, you’re looking awful mopey there for someone whose pharmacist is scoring him some prescription medication for recreational use. Try to make an effort, huh?