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The Phantom, 4/29/18

This Phantom Sunday plot, involving our hero breaking a prison snitch out Bangalla’s most hellish jail temporarily for crime-fighting purposes, has been happening since at least last October, and I’m definitely not going bring you up to date on everything that’s happened in it, because if it were actually interesting I probably would’ve talked about it here already, right? Mostly I wanted to point out that our jailbird’s faltering attempt to find common ground with the Phantom makes the hero recoil in disgust and think about his loving, supportive childhood where a man dressed in a purple gimp suit who never even let his own children see his face taught him to kill.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/28/18

Oh, right, Heather, last seen having succeeded in her plan to seduce her dying, demented husband, or at least procure some of his seed. Well, the baby’s born and the husband is dead, and now she’s going to have to deal with both the grief and her stepson Hugh, who failed to come to his father’s deathbed, probably because his father never liked him and he and Heather conspired to keep Hugh from taking control of the family company not once but twice. The new baby is named “Phoenix,” presumably to summon the image of a bird rising from its own ashes, which will help Heather make the case to the board of Avery International that the infant is in fact the reincarnated soul of Milton and therefore technically the company CEO.

Mary Worth, 4/28/18

I know it’s been a few days since we checked in with Wilbur, so here’s the update: Wilbur’s still depressed, and now he’s turning to drink. It’s sad that he has this whole liquor cabinet, including a bottle of decent scotch, and nobody to share it with. What about his neighbors? What about Ian? What do you think is keeping Wilbur from inviting Ian over and enjoying a pleasant nightcap? Probably the fact that they don’t really care for each other because they’re both pretty unlikeable, I imagine.

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Mark Trail, 4/26/18

Rusty had to get the sign-off from his teacher to go on this trip to Mexico, so I guess that he attends school, not that you’d know from the strip, where he always seems to be hanging around the isolated forest cabin he shares with his family. But presumably this is a tiny one-room schoolhouse that he shares with a few other stunted forest youths who are kept equally safe from “big city ideas” or the wider culture generally. That’s one explanation for Rusty’s laughable misunderstanding of the economics of civil aviation. The size of an airport isn’t related to the distance flown by any individual scheduled flight departing from that airport, you foolish boy! It instead depends on the population and economic output of the region it serves, so the real question you should be asking yourself is why the backwoods Lost Forest zone merits a sizable international airport. (It’s also possible that this is a tiny two-gate terminal and yet it’s still the largest building Rusty’s ever been inside.)

Dennis the Menace, 4/26/18

“Get it? It rhymes, you see! Anyway, it sounds like your eight-year-old son’s wandered off and you have no idea where he is, so good luck with that.”

Mary Worth, 4/26/18

Ha ha, remember when Dawn was overwhelmed with memories of her ex, while she stared at one of the greatest works of art in the Western canon? Well, you know what Marx said: “All great world-historic facts and personages appear, so to speak, twice … the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce.”

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 4/20/18

I was struck by the first panel of today’s Snuffy Smith, as the strip generally doesn’t do much by way of experimenting with form but today gives us a different perspective of our diminutive title character, just barely visible from the judge’s bench. Perhaps it’s meant to be symbolic of today’s installment’s narrative: normally we see things from the viewpoint of Snuffy Smith, to the extent that we find his layabout criminal attitudes normal and even charming. But the mention of Farmer Clem reminds us that there are in fact honest citizens trying to extract sustenance from Hootin’ Holler’s meager soil, their lives made all the harder by Snuffy’s thievery. And then there are the chickens. My god, think of the horrors the chickens have to suffer! (I’m talking about being killed and eaten, of course. You thought I was talking about weird sex stuff, didn’t you? What, being killed and eaten isn’t bad enough?)

Hi and Lois, 4/20/18

This is an intensely weird setup to this joke, right? The definite vibe I’m getting here is that the “new friend” is going to follow the trail of detritus to Chip’s lair, where he will have to defeat him in combat and either win glory or be devoured.

Gil Thorp, 4/20/18

This seems like an adequate penance for Marty, but I see a big loophole: he’s going to take that ad time he’s forced to buy during the girls’ game and fill it with his own stream-of-consciousness take on what he got from reading the “Latin America: A Land Of Contrasts” ebook while drunk.

Mary Worth, 4/20/18

Oh, I guess Wilbur is only getting dumped from his local paper, so his livelihood won’t be destroyed; it’s just that his ex won’t be reminded of what she gave up every time she opens the Santa Royale News-Intelligencer to the op-ed pages, which, I assume, she probably doesn’t do very often, because print media, am I right? I know we did a whole storyline about how Iris is unusually old to be dating Zak, but come on, she’s not that old. Anyway, I certainly hope that, just as Santa Royale is a thinly veiled stand-in Santa Barbara, the Santa Royale Democrat and Telegraph is similarly modelled on the Santa Barbara News-Press, because that paper’s story is nuts. It’s probably the only small-city daily in America to merit not just a Wikipedia article but an entirely separate Wikipedia “controversy” article, and the idea of Wilbur stomping down there to whine about his columns while the staff is in the midst of labor agitation, ideological purges, and child porn investigations is delicious.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/20/18

“I thought I was going to be paired up with some young guys, some new blood,” Flash Freeman thinks mournfully to himself. “That Wayne and Garth shit is more than 25 years old at this point. This is going to be a disaster.”

Pluggers, 4/20/18

I think I’ve spotted your problem there, sir: your GPS is designed to navigate you from place to place via America’s road system and not, say, across an open field or wherever the hell it is you are.