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Gil Thorp, 12/22/16

Ah yes, at last we’ve finally learned the Trouble With Aaron Aagard: he can’t focus on basketball or even stereotypical teenage refrigerator-rummaging because he obsessively searches for entertainment options online and then goes to warehouse raves or whatever. Gil isn’t worried, though, because this is one of the biggest teams they’ve had! It’s an enormous team, so they can put ten, twelve, fifteen players on the court at a time, overwhelming opponents with sheer numbers. Not sure why nobody thought of this strategy before!

Judge Parker, 12/22/16

Never mind these petty human interest stories, ladies! Can’t you see your own newscrawl? The rotting corpse of President Gerald Ford has risen from the grave and roams the land on a fresh, living horse! This can only be the first portent of global armageddon!

Mary Worth, 12/22/16

Ahh, yes, Wilbur’s finished his writing for the day and now it’s time for him to engage his imagination and indulge in some solo erot[my keyboard, computer, and cable modem simultaneously melt down in a desperate attempt to prevent me from finishing that sentence]

[I sign in with my phone]Those fingerless gloves he had on in yesterday’s strip should make the whole thing eas[the entire cell network for southern California goes up in flames in an act of species preservation]

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Mary Worth, 12/21/16

Ha! While Iris frolics with her boy-toy, look what’s become of Wilbur: he’s now a rugged, international man of action, pecking out the latest installment of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive!” belowdecks on some unheated tramp steamer, with only his faithful table lamp to keep him company. Sure, Iris, Zak may be aware that women can and should have orgasms, but would he put on fingerless gloves so he could heroically continue typing a syndicated newspaper column even when it’s cold? I think not!

Beetle Bailey, 12/21/16

There some clues here about what’s really happening in this strip. The endless void in the background, the way General Halftrack is lying back in his chair with his eyes half-closed, the fact that Miss Buxley has strangely gotten larger between the two panels: he’s dying, and not a moment too soon! Is his final moments, his brain is indulging his sexual gigantism fetish, the better to send him off into the hereafter.

Mark Trail, 12/21/16

Hey, were you worried about whether that island in Mark Trail was still blowing up? Well, here’s an update: It’s still blowing up. Stay tuned for further important developments in this exploding island story.

Six Chix, 12/21/16

It’s almost Christmas and you know what that means: Lots of jokes about Santa being horny!

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Hey, everyone! Before we launch into this week’s comics, I want to draw your attention to the Mary Worth And Me blog, where faithful reader Wanders has this year’s Worthy Awards nominees up! You get to vote in a number of categories, including Best Storyline, Outstanding Performances by Guest and Recurring Characters, Outstanding Panel, and, of course, the most coveted Worthy Statuette of all, Outstanding Performance By A Floating Head. Vote early, vote often!

Beetle Bailey, 12/19/16

One of my less favorite Beetle Bailey running jokes is the “troops dress up in wacky outfits and call it ‘camouflage’” joke that pops up on the regular. Obviously an army has to learn how to blend into the natural environment, but I’m reasonably certain that nobody has gone into either combat or an army training exercise dressed as either a bipedal, armless sheep or a bale of green hay with a visible face and limbs. In this lineup of madness, Beetle’s disguise actually seems most grounded in reality: after all, the history of soliders who have defected to the enemy when expedient — and indeed become their former opponents’ biggest cheerleaders — is as long as the history of warfare.

Shoe, 12/19/16

I spent an entire lifetime of comic reading getting accustomed to a world where sapient bird-people engage in journalism and live in a tree-city where certain architectural elements resemble those developed for human civilization, but today I feel like I’ve had a pretty important additional element — that said bird people are slightly more sophisticated than us technologically, and have access to near-future innovations like self-driving cars — dumped on me with little warning. Anyway, it’s good to have my fundamental pessimism confirmed here: even when the cars drive themselves, the rest of life is still going to suck.