Post Content

Gil Thorp, 3/20/07

Some days, when I’m having a busy day, like I did today (I’m guest-blogging at Wonkette all week, by the way, and trying to get Mary Worth restored to the Washington Post in the process), I see dozens of comments come in about a particular strip before I see the strip itself. Sometimes all the build-up is more than a strip can bear, but panel two of today’s Gil Thorp was all I had been led to hope for and more. The sight of Tyler beating himself in the back of the head in some suburban alley — with the baffling motion lines turning the scene into an Escher-esque impossibility, and with the tiny moon floating behind him, making it look like he’s dislodged one of his own eyeballs — well, it’s pretty much the best thing I’ve seen today. I’d like to think that we’re seeing smack number four here.

Mary Worth, 3/20/07

Mary Worth was of course almost as entertaining, with her creepy finger-touching. It’s like she’s measuring Vera to make sure she’ll fit in the apartment. Or, actually, it’s like she’s Judy Davis in a straight-to-Showtime movie called “Suburban Madame,” and she’s checking out the new meat to arrive at her peaceful condo complex/brothel.

Apartment 3-G, 3/20/07

This is why Tommie and Margo need Lu Ann back so badly: it’s her well-meaning idiocy that holds the trio together. Never has the contrast between the two been so apparent as in the last panel: Margo, very, very high, vibrating like a tuning fork and popping out nonsensical questions because she can scarcely be bothered to focus enough to have an actual conversation, and Tommie, collapsing inward into her mopey core, looking like she’d be glad to slit her wrists if the prospect of failing even to do that right wasn’t so embarrassing.

Pluggers, 3/20/07

The plugger’s number two rule: Oh, just buy the semi-rotted fruit. You don’t deserve any better.

Post Content

Doodles by Mac & Sack, 3/18/07

Ah, there’s lots of good artistic hate to be had in today’s Doodles. Our koala hero is usually the victim in this feature, getting haplessly devoured by various beasts, but today in my opinion our simian artiste has every right to be outraged by his marsupial rival’s blatant act of visual plagiarism. This is what comes of kids’ constant exposure to Slylock Fox’s Six Differences puzzles: they think, oh, we just need to change six things about a picture and it’s totally different! Well, it isn’t, and I think we’re about to see some monkey poo flung righteously to make that point.

Fun bits from the bottom: A painter assaults his own work in some kind of absinth rage; the charmingly named “Toby da Vinci” stares dully out at us, proudly showing off his headless creation; and a classic anti-Semitic football joke is reworked for general consumption.

Apartment 3-G, 3/18/07

OK, for a while I was willing to believe that Gina was just unnaturally self-absorbed and clueless, but it’s pretty obvious now that she’s decided to just torment Tommie relentlessly for some reason. Does any normal English speaker ever just switch pronoun referents in mid-thought? No, unless they’re trying to screw with your head. The only question is: why would anyone want to persecute poor Tommie Thompson? Isn’t her life pitiful enough as it is?

I note that, like most underemployed actors, Gina is slumming in the caffeine-delivery service industry. I’m guessing she manages to insult her customers on a routine basis. Fortunately, she’s probably too dumb to notice how bad her tips are.

Mary Worth, 3/18/07

“Curses upon you, Von”?

“Curses upon you, Von”?

Wow. Just … wow. I’m not even sure how to follow that up. Vera Shields looks like she has a lot of internalized anger. We all know of, course, that anyone who comes into Charterstone experiencing normal human emotions must be dealt with, and harshly. So, the question is: is Vera going to be the kind of Mary Worth peripheral character that Mary needs to help … or the kind that Mary needs to kill?

With its decaying plaster, crooked pictures, and bed that was blatantly scavenged from a dumpster behind a hospital, Vera’s apartment looks way too downscale for an up-and-coming ad exec. It’s barely a step up from the downtown women’s shelter! My theory: “Von” is actually Houston Texans defensive back Von Hutchins, who blew a tackle that allowed the winning touchdown in a game that Vera had 50 large riding on; thus, this filthy tenement room is all she can afford after she makes her monthly usurious payment to her bookie.

Dennis the Menace, 3/18/07

Today, Dennis proves himself less menacing than Margaret. And Margaret’s grandmother.

Post Content

B.C., 3/16/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because his wife talks a lot, and he’s tired of it, even though he presumably knew she talked a lot when he married her, so he’s got her tied up in the basement with duct tape over her mouth!

Wait, did I say “funny”? Because I meant “horribly offensive.” But see, when he calls her some 19th century term of abuse like “magpie,” it’s all old-timey, so we can just ignore it. Ha ha, that Johnny Hart! That crusty old hateful bastard! Ha!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/16/07

Wait, now hold on just a darn minute. Niki might be pretty good at garage cleaning and such, but there is one — exactly one — person in this neck of the woods who works on fence-related issues. One. And I think we all know who that is:

Hopefully, that’s him at the door right now, to set things straight and present a grossly inflated estimate.

(Baffled Rex-Morgan-readers-come-lately should check out this classic post.)

Apartment 3-G, 3/16/07

You know what offends me about Apartment 3-G? It’s set in New York, right? Now, I don’t live there, but I do love the place. It’s one of those cities in the world that has a really strong sense of place: if you’re there, you know you’re there, and nowhere else. Unless, of course, you’re in Apartment 3-G, which could take place literally anywhere that’s full of tall buildings and white people. The Apartment 3-G girls never take the subway, or a taxi. (Even Neddy and Abbey are taking the Paris Métro, for God’s sake.) They never eat at any of the many famous, recognizable restaurants at their disposal. Starving artist Lu Ann never visits any of the world-class art galleries. And Neil is getting great reviews in the “local press.” I think the world could handle the name of one or more of the major New York papers, people. You can look them up on the Internet even.

Mark Trail, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH HUGE SOULLESS TERRIFYING EYES SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO

Mary Worth, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH MARY INQUIRING ABOUT SOMEBODY’S SEX LIFE SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO