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Blondie, 2/15/08

I suppose by “old college sweatshirt” Dagwood means “sweatshirt I wore when I was in college,” but when I think “college sweatshirt” I would visualize a sweatshirt that has, you know, a college’s logo or mascot on it, or at least its name. Then again, Dagwood went to college during the Harding Administration, when there were probably only about ten or twelve active universities in the United States, so maybe the colors were enough. Back then, the mere sight of a blue and black garment let you know that you were in the presence of a graduate of Dagwood’s esteemed alma mater. I’m sure he has many fond memories of rooting on The Stripes on the base-ball field.

Gil Thorp, 2/15/08

You might recall that after the famed self-clubbing incident of early 2007, Tyler was banished to intensive psychiatric treatment. Obviously it worked like gangbusters. He’s gone all season without bludgeoning himself; and, what’s more, thanks to his new self-knowledge, he’s gained an almost uncanny insight into how the human psyche works. It’s almost as if he’s able to project himself out of his spit-curled head and into Andrew Gregory’s slightly longer spit-curled head. Gil and Kaz will be thankful for his help in this case, obviously, but may grow increasingly nervous about just what kind of mind-reading monster they’ve created.

Lockhorns, 2/15/08

The Lockhorns schtick is generally not difficult to wrap one’s head around — they hate each other, you see — so the occasional panel composed of complete nonsense is all the more surprising. Who exactly is Leroy playing chess against? Why are all the pieces the same color? Why does Loretta’s “sleepy eyes” face look exactly like her “black eyes from getting in a car wreck” face? And how does it all fit in with their endless attempts to destroy one another, as everything inevitably does?

Mark Trail, 2/15/08

This may be the greatest ever Mark Trail that doesn’t actually feature Mark punching anybody. At last, we get to see a bear dish out the punishment and hostility, though alas some kind of syndicate rule seems to forbid the depiction of the Neanderthal henchman being eviscerated, so we instead need to settle for the sight of him fleeing in terror unrealistically quickly. I do like the fact that the widow Malone seems to merely stand around arching her eyebrows sexily while her muscle is nearly mauled. “Sorry, the bullets in this rifle are only for the elimination of one Mark Trail, not for some great furry beast. Perhaps you should have made use of your own weapon rather than casting it aside and screaming ‘AHHHH..’, you bearded cretin!”

Marvin, 2/15/08

OK, Marvin, that’s … that’s enough with the ass jokes. For serious now.

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Marvin, 2/14/08

It’s been a singularly uninspiring day in the comics, one in which the only thing I can find worthy of mention is Marvin. The similar concerns of folks on either end of life’s demographic bell curve demonstrate why this strip years ago chose to branch out from “babies thought balloon the darndest things about crapping in their pants” to “babies and old people and dogs are equally dyspeptic and unfunny when they talk and/or thought balloon about things that most people find distasteful.” Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody!

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Marvin, 1/27/08

Non-redheaded persons who read this, heed my words! We redheaded folk may, as my hairdresser cheerfully informed me when I went to get a haircut last week, be going extinct, but like the mighty but doomed polar bear, we demand a certain degree of respect on the way out! For instance, in the matter of metaphorical color terms used to describe us, we are fine with the classic “redhead” or simply “red”; also acceptable are “ginger,” “rusty,” “strawberry blond” (for certain hues), and, if you’re feeling risque, “firecrotch.” “Raspberry” strikes me as a little off, and … tomato? Tomato? Please. Let’s never speak of this incident again.

Despite the totally radical and extreme dream-based snowboarding going on in most of this comic, due to its weird background the final panel is the only one in which it actually appears to be snowing. This implies that at some point in the middle of winter, Marvin’s parents put him and his bed outside while he was sleeping, a move that I very much approve of. Perhaps they chose to expose their child to the elements after one too many mornings waking up to the horrifying vision in the throwaway panel in the top row.

Mary Worth, 1/27/08

And Vera’s reign as the most normal person in the Drew-Dawn-Vera love triangle comes to an end … now. The weird generic blandness in the art here makes it unclear whether the clean-cut blondie in the final panel is supposed to be her brother Von or some new paramour, but either possibility is a weird enough choice for a get-together-with-an-old-flame meeting as to totally justify Dr. Drew’s epic head swivel in the final panel.

Turning to something with more personality than any of the humans in this scenario, let’s take a look at the sign being partially blocked by Drew’s brylcreemed noggin. I’m specifically intrigued by the top placard, which has a picture of some sort of white, foamy topping illustrating the exhortation to “ADD S[redacted]”. Since there’s enough room on the sign for one or two more letters, tops, and none of the synonyms for whipped cream that I can think of start with “S”, I’m kind of at a loss as to what it could be trying to tell us. My best guess: “ADD SIN”. Because whipped cream is sinfully delicious, you see!

Apartment 3-G, 1/27/08

“God damn it, this is an autumn shade, and I know I’m a spring! How many times do I have to tell myself — I should never go to the cosmetics counter when I’m drunk or high!”

The final panel of this strip walks a delicate line, giving Alan fans the beefcake they crave while sparing the rest of us the traumatic sight of Alan nipples.