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Herb and Jamaal, 3/13/25

Ha, no, see, Herb’s mother-in-law, “doomscrolling” just means when you keep going through your social media feeds on your phone, hoping for a little glimmer of something positive but instead only finding bad news that makes you increasingly gloomy. It does not mean the thing where you’re on your phone and you suddenly get a vivid and detailed vision of your own future death, but then just as quickly that awful omen vanishes from sight. I mean, I can see why you’d think that’s what doomscrolling might mean, what with it offering you premonitions of your own doom and all! But it doesn’t really happen often enough for people to give it a name, I don’t think. Does it, uh, often happen to you?

Mary Worth, 3/13/25

Dawn, there’s no need to be condescending to your old dad, he is not “pen pals” with a nice lady he met on a tour of a collectable spoon factory or something, he met a woman at an all-inclusive resort and they fucked for two weeks and now he’s messaging her using his computer or phone, both devices that have cameras built in just in case the light and friendly banter takes a turn towards the naked, and if you choose to continue to live in this house you will have to get used to that idea.

Gearhead Gertie, 3/13/25

“She’s actually just pretty much unhappy all the time, and quite frankly it’s difficult to live with.”

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Mary Worth, 3/11/25

I have to admit that I’ve never fully understood the arrangement Wilbur and Mary have where Mary subs for him as “Ask Wendy” when he’s too busy travelling (or too busy masturbating nostalgically to the hot sales director from Orlando that he met while traveling). Like, is she doing it as a “personal favor,” for free, or is he paying her, and if so is he paying more or less than what he makes? I guess what I’m getting at is that Wilbur doesn’t seem that emotionally or for that matter financially attached to the column, and I’m guessing that a syndicated newspaper column that your name doesn’t actually appear on is one of those things you can pretty easily convince your bosses to hand over to another person of your choosing, especially once you tell them said other person has actually been writing it for some time. On the other hand, don’t forget that Wilbur literally won his job as an advice columnist in a contest, and I while I always assumed it was a thing where people submitted sample advice to the paper and they picked whoever was best at it, maybe it was more like the deal where you meet the Devil at a crossroads in rural Georgia and go toe-to-toe with him in an advice-writing competition, winning a new job but losing … your eternal soul. Wilbur would have a hard time being rid of that sort of job, but if he could just get Mary to sign this contract, a lot of his problems would be taken care of … no need to read the fine print, Mary…

Luann, 3/11/25

In classic Luann fashion, Luann’s terrible date has somehow morphed into a large and complex event over at The Fuse, about which I have two things to say: (a) Tiffany is right, “Transfuse at the Fuse” is a more fun way to brand this than a giant boring sign that says “BLOOD DRIVE”, and (b) Tiffany should not back down just because she suddenly noticed that this guy named “Phil” or whatever is cute, since we’ve already seen his date with Luann and as noted seen that it was terrible, mostly as a result of his off-putting personality. Stand your ground, Tiff, he’s going to read at you off of index cards, you as always deserve better!

Rhymes With Orange, 3/11/25

I mean, it’s going to break most of her, honestly — pretty much all her organs and body parts, and then she’ll die. That’s how fly swatters work: by delivering shattering blunt force onto the body of the fly.

Shoe, 3/11/25

ME USUALLY: Shoe is such a jerk. Sometimes I wish he would take a minute and reflect on his wreck of a life. He won’t like what he sees!

ME TODAY: Oh god, OK, this might’ve gotten too dark, actually

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Mary Worth, 3/9/25

“The past only exists by how you remember it,” Mary long ago told an emotionally scarred young woman, haunted by the man who stood her up at the altar. “Keep only good memories from past relationships, and forget the rest!” says Wilbur, urging his daughter to join him in the comfortable and false world he inhabits. Ah, but Stanislaw Jerzy Lec reminds us that “You can close your eyes to reality, but not to memories,” which to me implies that the power of true memory overcomes any attempt we might make at self-delusion. That long trail of romantic failure each of you has behind you will always be there, burned into your memory, and you cannot shake it. Now, the Westons may whine that this is unfair, and ask why this Lec guy thought he was so smart. It turns out he has a pretty incredible biography with a lot of ups and downs, ranging from the time he wrote the first poem in the Polish language praising Stalin to the time he escaped from a Nazi concentration camp by killing a guard with the shovel he was supposed to be digging his own grave with. And what have the two of you ever done? Dropped a bowling ball on a guy’s foot? Had a funeral for a fish? Pathetic. Rethink your lives.

Blondie, 3/9/25

I assume this fantastic (?) joke (???) simply only would’ve worked in the multipanel Sunday format, but it honestly really bothers me that Blondie did an office-based gag on a weekend. After all, if this strip does a joke about National Dentists’ Day, you can be sure it runs on National Dentists’ Day. I refuse to suspend my disbelief and pretend to think we’re seeing action that’s actually happening on a Tuesday, or, worse, that the naturally lazy Dagwood went into work on Sunday when he should napping on the couch with his knees bent up all uncomfortably like God intended.