Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 11/5/09

Oh, man, apparently Tommie really isn’t familiar with I Dressed In The Dark, or with the reality TV genre in general, or with the sort of thing that normal humans enjoy as entertainment. If she were, she’d know that she should be jerking about spasmodically for the camera here, clowning it up for the people at home; if she must express negative feelings, they should be big negative feelings, with ostentatious, theatrical bawling. Instead, she’s just looking directly into the camera, and, with a flat expression and eerily affectless voice, describing the terrible emotional desert through which a cruel God has cursed her to wander, like the Israelites, but not as well dressed. I’m assuming that the cameraman is only managing to hold that microphone up through sheer professionalism, and will soon be quietly weeping. Tommie should very much not be allowed on television.

Mary Worth, 11/5/09

Ha ha, look, Adrian is already trying to squirm out of the drunken promises she made to Scott when she thought he was in a coma and couldn’t hear her. Now they’re getting married when he’s “better.” “Adrian, I’m back on my feet and back on the job, and the doctor says that these scars from the bullet wounds are pretty much permanent, so…” “Scott, please! You know I can’t marry a man with any sort of disfigurement! You’ll make sure they heal, if you really love me.”

Gil Thorp, 11/5/09

Congrats to Gil Thorp for depicting what most scientists agree to be the douchiest high-five possible there in panel two. Meanwhile, the parallelism of the two cafeteria scenes leaves one to contemplate the question: where’s a worse place to eat lunch, high school or prison? Your fellow inmates are more likely to shiv you, but at least they won’t stoop to lying about going to your volleyball game.

Dennis the Menace, 11/5/09

I’m sorry, Dennis, this is a game attempt to work within this strip’s restricted ambit of bad behavior, but good manners are never menacing.

B.C., 11/5/09

Ha ha, you see, because one of them wants to kill her, and one of them wants to have sex with her! Women, am I right? They’re like prey animals!

Beetle Bailey, 11/5/09

Honest to God, anyone who opens a gay bar named “McGooey’s” on the outskirts of a US Army base will get free advertising on this site for a year.

Post Content

Family Circus, 11/4/09

The presence of Dolly in the background takes this Family Circus panel beyond this feature’s usual run-of-the-mill “Jeffy is a moron” territory. When you consider Dolly’s well-known and well-earned contempt for her brother, it seems unlikely that she’d be helping him search for his shoes; thus, I must conclude that all shoes in the Keane Kompound have been confiscated, possibly as a result of the suspiciously absent Billy’s successful escape. Barfy’s sad facial expression indicates that he knows what the kids don’t: even if you get across the half-mile of burning sand, you’ll just end up at the electric fence.

Pluggers, 11/4/09

Pluggers are so hard up for cash that they can only afford “choklit”, which, being made mostly from petroleum byproducts, doesn’t have an expiration date.

Archie, 11/4/09

Mr. Weatherbee’s anger masks his shame at almost being caught surfing for Mr. Weatherbee porn while at work.

Mary Worth, 11/4/09

“That’s right, you don’t have any regrets about your love life, do you Jeff? Jeff? Put down that coffee mug and look at me when I talk to you!”

Apartment 3-G, 11/4/09

OH OH WAIT SHE NEVER HAD ONE OF THOSE

Post Content

Luann, 11/2/09

Have you guys heard about the new Lars van Trier movie, Antichrist? In the opening sequence, a couple known only as “He” and “She” (played by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg) get it on in sexy black-and-white slo-mo, and while they are so distracted, their little son climbs out the window and falls to his death. They are tortured by this, psychologically, and later literally! According to rumors on the Internets (and stop reading if you’re some kind of Lars van Trier aficionado or something), there is extensive genital mutilation along the way to the horrifying ending.

Anyway, nothing I’ve heard about this movie has caused me to change my opinion that Lars van Trier is a loathsome sadist, but upon reading this strip I can begin to see the appeal of such a plot line. If you’ll allow me to project: Brad and Toni engage in intimate congress on the couch the moment TJ leaves on his onion run; against all of our expectations about Brad, it lasts longer than seven minutes; TJ’s risotto (his “baby”) is burned (“killed”); TJ returns and crushes Brad’s testicles with a block of wood. This will all be part of a long-range and ultimately successful strategy to make TJ the strip’s most sympathetic character.

Spider-Man, 11/2/09

And speaking of characters for whom we should or should not harbor sympathy, have we mentioned lately that Spider-Man is an self-centered douchebag? Here is his latest scheme: he wants to convince Sandman, whom he defeated in super-combat some time ago and who has since gone straight, to engage in simulated combat in New York, so he can photograph it and sell said photographs to the Daily Bugle. Never mind the damage this will do to Sandman’s already dodgy reputation; our theoretical protagonist isn’t even bothering to pay the poor guy for his trouble! We are left to wonder who’s the worst offender: Spider-Man, for demanding that Sandman go along with his journalistic hoax, or Bigshot, for kidnapping Sandman’s daughter and threatening to harm her unless Sandman robs a bank. OK, sure, promising harm to little girls is pretty bad, but consider the fact that Bigshot is a comically preening villain named “Bigshot,” who is almost certainly constitutionally incapable of better, whereas Spider-Man is, ostensibly, a hero. Or at least he was until this week! Maybe this is the Spider-Man newspaper strip’s attempt to wade into Alan Moore-style moral ambiguity, which ought to be extremely hilarious.

Gil Thorp, 11/2/09

“I’m 5-5, Valerie. I’m easy to miss! Especially because you’re, what, seven feet tall? Eight? Is volleyball even challenging to you? Argh, no, don’t step on me!”

Mary Worth, 11/2/09

Meanwhile, in one of those “Gift of the Magi”-type things, Adrian has decided that, to live in solidarity with her comatose beloved who will never be able to perceive this beautiful world again, she will be disabling all of her senses as well. Scott is opening his eyes just as Adrian is in the process of ripping out hers.

Pluggers, 11/2/09

Thank goodness, the plugopalypse has been averted! Unfortunately the use of the elitist neologism “snail mail” will only cause further problems for our overburdened postal system, as the official Pluggers P.O. box becomes encrusted with slime from all the actual snails mailed in by confused pluggers everywhere.