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Hi and Lois, 2/5/09

Ditto’s teacher’s enormous grin probably indicates that she’s on some kind of serious mood-altering medication, which, seeing as she’s Ditto’s teacher and all, God bless her for it.

Crock, 2/5/09

Ha ha ha, fat character created solely to be the butt of fat jokes! Let’s string together a bunch fat jokes about you! No, they don’t actually have to lead into each other logically. Say, has anyone pointed out to you that you’re fat?

Family Circus, 2/5/09

“Certainly not for unsophisticated, derivative trash like this. Why, you couldn’t get a gallery show in Peoria with crap like Running Man In Hat in your portfolio!”

Mary Worth, 2/5/09

“You helped Lynn by talking through her problems with her … and helped me with that incredible nine-hour sex session last night, which the comic syndicate censored but which I’ll imply by gently resting my hand on your shoulder!”

…

What? What? Did I blow your little minds? The way Mary blew Frank’s mind, last night? OK, I’ll stop now.

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Mark Trail, 2/2/09

For many years, philosophers have wondered: Is there anything worse than being punched by Mark Trail? One proposal — that it would be worse to be punched twice — was rejected, as such an event would ultimately fall into the category of being punched. Today, however, we learn that it may actually ultimately be more shameful and humiliating to not be punched by Mark Trail. If Mark considered Ken to be at all a worthy opponent, he’d have been knuckle-sandwiched halfway into next week by now. By offering a leisurely rebuttal to Ken’s implied accusations while casually dodging his wild uppercut, then merely immobilizing Ken’s punching hand rather than unleashing his own, Mark essentially implies that Ken isn’t even worth the fist-clenching effort. Our animal-hating conclusion-jumping rage-monster will just have to grow facial hair if he wants Mark to take him seriously.

Archie, 2/2/09

The AJGLU-3000 continues its attempts to communicate with the outside world; however, since its programming only allows communication by means of corny jokes involving the Archie gang, its signals are baffling to biological life units such as myself. Is that creepy face in on the screen in panel two meant to be grinning in cybernetic delight at the prospect of communicating with another form of intelligence? Or is that curvy thing its faux-nose, and the line beneath it its grim, implacable mouth? Either way, the young lady at the keyboard, who is presumably attempting to write her book report on Of Mice And Men or whatever, looks shocked and almost hypnotized at suddenly being confronted with this sign of mechanical sentience. Presumably the monitor will soon be filled with a series of flashing, quarter-second images of static and pulsing color patterns, which will cause her head to explode.

Spider-Man, 2/2/09

Our Spider-Man trip through memory lane reveals that Peter Parker is and always has been the dumbest person of any kind who has ever lived. “It’s hard to hide my Spider-Man costume while I’m a guest at Aunt May’s! I’ll just cram it under the couch cushions in the living room, while she’s right here in front of me! Fortunately, this terrible mauve piece of Depression-era furniture is already so lumpy that there’s no way she’ll feel it when she sits here to watch her stories.”

I was going to suggest that Peter think about storing his costume in his room, where he might have a smidge of privacy, but then I was struck by his description of himself as a “guest.” Maybe Aunt May thinks that he should be living in a dorm, having sex and doing drugs like a normal college student, and thus is trying to get him out of her house by making his stay as awkward and uncomfortable as possible. “Peter, dear, you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, do you? I’d hate to have to take my collection of commemorative Hummel figurines out of the guest bedroom.”

Meanwhile, Electro continues his flashback soliloquy, establishing the fact that he’s both a failure and a dick.

Mary Worth, 2/2/09

“In fact, now that I’m not micromanaging my daughter’s career so much, I have more time to commit to my new supervillain persona, the Harlequin! Say, have you seen my mask? I’ve got a bank to rob!”

Marmaduke, 2/2/09

Marmaduke really likes a buffet.

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Dick Tracy, 1/29/09

Dick Tracy is well known for such stunningly pointless narration box scene setting as “In another room” and “Elsewhere,” but I have to admit to being somewhat intrigued by “Much later”. By using qualitative, not quantitative, terms, the strip sets up an intriguing narrative tension about exactly when the third panel is supposed to be taking place. Are we meant to read it as “Much later, after Dick’s gruesome, nine-hour ‘enhanced’ interrogation of Professor Noll, at the end of which he described the secret project he was working on, confessed to a number of crimes he couldn’t have possibly committed, and then was shot ‘trying to escape’?” Or as “Much later, after the human race has evolved into a species with no pupils, shiny black skulls, truncated, pointy breasts, and a tendency to name people things like ‘Driller’?”

Gil Thorp, 1/29/09

Of course, Central has an incredible home-court advantage. Playing basketball on a court with four-foot ceilings does limit the number of home fans who can come and cheer, but for teams unused to such conditions, the stooped, simian lope that they make necessary can be a real distraction — one that the permanently hunched over Bobcats can exploit.

I’m not sure what the two clowns standing behind Marty are up to — trying to get their faces on the radio? That’s not how it works, guys — but I sincerely hope that the blond-haired glasses-wearing dude is making the universal jerk-off motion with his left hand, as he appears to be.

Blondie, 1/29/05

I strongly disapprove of the set-up for this joke. Dagwood can’t possibly be much older than, say, 50; obviously anyone born after 1960, when asked by a child if some common, century-old device were available during their childhood, would respond not with “Yes, and yet I’m also going to offer a description of an archaic technology that will make me seem even more wizened to you,” but with “JESUS CHRIST ELMO HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM,” followed by some serious soul-searching and a series of inappropriate and regrettable music and clothing purchases.

Mary Worth, 1/29/09

“Yes, before I came to visit you, I never imagined the hatred and despair that lurked just beneath the besequined surface of this beautiful sport! Now every time I see a coach talking to a skater on TV, all I’ll be able to think of will be the many ways that each has been able to wound and disappoint the other over the years. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish my glass of blood as soon as possible and get the hell out of here before this little papered-over truce you’ve established inevitably collapses in tears and acrimony and slashing blades.”