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Mary Worth, 2/18/10

Oh my goodness, SO MANY DRAMAS AND SADNESSES in today’s Mary Worth! Dawn abruptly puts a stop to her intimate moment with Wilbur as she notices Kurt lurking in the other room, puking into his hand. Then she dishes some dirt about her father’s inability to sustain a relationship. “Yeah, after mom woke up one day and said ‘Holy Christ, I’m married to Wilbur Weston?’ I lived in Connecticut with her … until I got caught robbing a liquor store, and the judge told me I had to choose between juvie and moving to California to live with my dad. When I think about the fact that I’d be a free woman back on the streets again if I’d made that first choice, whereas now I’m still living here … ugh, it gives me chills. Anyway, you didn’t miss much, trust me.” Meanwhile, Wilbur, left to his own devices, has immediately wandered back to the computer, desperately trolling Facebook for more long-lost offspring who will at least briefly pretend to love him.

Dick Tracy, 2/18/10

A wild-eyed maniac spouting nonsense? A group of lanky shadow-figures, waving their arms about in panic? An extreme close-up on the stylized face of a woman keening a single piercing note of pure terror? The best Dick Tracy in many a moon? Yes, yes, yes, and yes!

Beetle Bailey, 2/18/10

It appears that Killer’s constant tree-fucking ways aren’t just expressions of his perverted nature; he’s actually part of a top-secret military experiment to breed intelligent and deadly tree-human hybrids. You know who’s going to freak out and emit a single panicked ball of sweat when he sees one of those hairy prehensile root-tentacles slithering into his cave? Osama bin Laden, that’s who!

Family Circus, 2/18/10

Mommy and daddy better not hear that traitor talk, Dolly, or someone’s going to learn that one ought not to let one’s aesthetics affect one’s patriotic allegiances … in Gitmo.

Jumble, 2/18/10

As it features a desperate looking couple sitting around a kitchen that’s almost completely empty except for a pile of bills, I’m pretty sure this is most depressing Jumble ever. I keep staring at the answer blanks, and all I can think of to put there is “HAVE ANY MONEY.”

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Gil Thorp, 2/13/10

Steve Luhm’s reign of terror continues! He thinks up lame nicknames for the basketball team, and the fans dance to his tune, even taking their clothes off for no good reason! Girls who are into older boys with menial jobs find their affections bending inexorably Luhmward! What kind of awful power does this bespectacled custodian have over the citizens of this community? Are they just wholly incapable of cleaning up after themselves, leaving them at the mercy of whoever serves as janitor at any given time? Is Steve drunk with the power that comes with possession of the only mop in all of Milford?

Mary Worth, 2/13/10

I’ve had reason to criticize the art in Mary Worth over the years, but the last two days of Dawn’s shocked-and-yet-secretly-delighted facial expressions have been a joy to behold. I also may have been too harsh on her: while I assumed that this is exactly the kind of information she had hoped to receive, actually finding out the truth seems to have literally turned her brown eyes blue.

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Mary Worth, 2/12/10

Ha ha, look at Dawn’s face in panel one: she can barely contain her joy as this wave of class hatred washes over her. Lies and deceit? A father who never lived up to his responsibilities? A son who was rejected by his blood relatives because he came from the wrong side of the tracks? Whatever! Wilbur is HERS HERS HERS HERS again! It’s like Christmas! Thanks, spiteful and terrible old drunk lady! Dawn will never forget you!

Herb and Jamaal, 2/12/10

Wow, Herb and Jamaal has taken on an interesting new idea: making everyday sayings hilariously concrete. Either that, or Eula has finally decided to get rid of her hated son-in-law once and for all, by using a fast-acting muscular paralytic.

B.C., 2/12/10

Johnny Hart’s grandson Mason Mastroianni is less than three years into his gig as B.C. artist and already he’s gone mad with power, imagining himself as a wrathful God who keeps His creations quaking in constant terror.

Pluggers, 2/12/10

This is possibly the most depressing Pluggers every produced. Damn you, pluggers, I don’t care that your bodies are so ill-maintained that the mere thought of vigorous activity, sexual or otherwise, has you reaching for some kind of muscle-soothing unguent; I for one plan to take my clothes of for recreational purposes when I get old.

Of course, it’s possible that pluggers don’t have anything against sex per se, but simply find the combination of sex and nudity morally distasteful. Thus, they only get it on when their worn, greasy pajama pants develop holes in suitable locations.

Mark Trail 2/12/10

“Yeah, my doctor, he said, ‘Senator, you can’t just go around slapping people who irritate you, because one of these days someone’s going to beat the crap out of you and then you’ll probably die, you miserable old prick.'”

SAD AND DEPRESSING JUDGE PARKER UPDATE: Several readers wrote to tell me that it looks like Judge Parker artist Eduardo Barreto is gravely ill from meningitis and is unable to continue his duties on the soap strip. While I and others have poked fun at his, er, voluptuous ladies, I think we all appreciate his work on the strip, which is really unlike anything else on the comics page (with the possible exception of the art from his friend Graham Nolan on RMMD). I sincerely hope that Barreto’s health improves, and I know that it will be very difficult for King Features to find a replacement who will live up to what he’s done over the past few years.