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Six Chix, 7/6/06

I’m betting that somewhere in Six Chix’s marketing material, the phrase “fresh new voices” or a close variation thereupon appears. Thus, it’s all the more distressing to see the strip do a joke that appeared three weeks ago in They’ll Do It Every Time.

Of course, TDIET can’t let itself get shown up by a bunch of broads. No, it’s gotta up the ante!

They’ll Do It Every Time, 7/6/06

My love for TDIET grows ever deeper by the day, in large part because the idioms and phrases it uses seem to exist in a world all its own, a world that hasn’t changed since Ike won his second term. I’m not sure when the phrase “kitty” was last used for a tip jar, nor have I ever heard anyone refer to tipping as “Feeding the kitty.” But I’m going to start using both phrases as often as I can, to try to bring TDIET to life. I do like the fact that Titus (’cause he’s tight-fisted, get it?) is watching his car being washed from another room. Maybe it’s a two-way mirror down at the station house and the “boys” are interrogating it.

Judge Parker, 7/6/06

It’s kind of unnecessary for Katherine to point out that she’s not Randy’s birth mother, since they appear to be roughly the same age. In fact, with those knowing glances they’re giving each other in the last two panels, I’m thinking that there’s gonna be lots of long hours on the campaign trail where they’ll be … learning how to use chopsticks, if you get my drift.

OK, that was pretty gross. But faithful reader “rich” already stole my Katherine Harris election fraud joke in a comment on yesterday’s post. Damn you, clever commentors!

Katherine clearly will be able to use her psychokinetic powers to help Randy get elected — her fingers are glowing like E.T.’s! Speaking of which…

Mary Worth, 7/6/06

I’m sure I’m going to have many, many weeks to goggle in awe at Mary’s Captain Kangaroo-esque stalker, so I’m going to focus my remarks here on her electric finger of power. Specifically, it’s pretty cool. Back off, stalker man! She can taser you with her mind!

Gil Thorp, 7/6/06

Gil Thorp’s floral-print-tight-clad, junior-high-age daughter getting into catty fights at gymnastics camp? Oh, yeah, summer’s gonna be awesome.

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Dick Tracy, 7/5/06

I’m beginning to suspect that this Dick Tracy storyline is an extended apologia for the NSA’s warrantless wiretapping program; thus, it’s somewhat ironic that it brought up the subject of the U.S.’s secret monitoring of terrorist financial activities weeks before the New York Times did. Still, one begins to see their point: if our terrorists enemies are as dumb as Al Kinda here — who, while sitting in his Washington, D.C., office, changed from Western clothes into some sort of costume from a touring dinner-theater production of Sinbad the Sailor, and then greeted the entire al Qaeda network by name on his enormous wireless phone — then they probably won’t be smart enough to realize that they’re being spied on until they read about it in the liberal media.

Shoe, 7/5/06

Speaking of morons dressed in ridiculous outfits, here’s today’s Shoe. I have to admit that I’m charmed by the idea of some kind of Shakespearean method actor who refuses to change out of his costume, ever. Apparently, despite the fact that the vast majority of stage productions in this country feature contemporary characters dressed in essentially street clothes, the artist felt most Americans would fail to recognize Ye Olde Birde as an actor without this faux-Elizabethan getup, even though he utters the words “my” and “play” (in that order) in the first panel. This is a troubling assumption, but, sadly, it’s probably a safe one.

Mary Worth, 7/5/06

Ooh! Ooh! Mary Worth is being stalked! Mary Worth is being stalked! By, apparently, the world’s dumbest stalker, who appears to be standing approximately fifteen feet away from her and thinking, “Nobody can see me! Why, that branch is barely three feet above my head! I’M INVISIBLE! MOO HA HA HA!”

Oh, and: mustache, light hair — is our sinister fellow erstwhile Dawn Weston paramour/effette intellectual snob/violent rage addict Woody Hills? Dare to dream!

Slylock Fox, 7/5/06

I’m less interested in these so-called “facts” about peanut butter (no doubt supplied, along with a generous honorarium, out the deep pockets of the American Peanut Butter and Peanut Products Council) and more in the little tableau that accompanies them. From the look on the face of the groovy, hippie headbanded chick, she’s about to hit her breaking point. I’ll bet when she visualized her future as a young girl, it didn’t include dealing with a couple of buck-toothed freaks (are they brothers? father and son?) fighting over a condiment while she cleaned up after them. All I can say to Greedy McSandwicheater is that he’d better clean up those globs of peanut butter he’s spilled on the table, because that knife is temptingly close to his throat.

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Mary Worth, 6/30/06

You’d think that with all the years he’s spent trying to get into Mary’s comfortable slacks, Jeff would be better at translating Passive-Aggresive into English by now. Clearly, when it comes out of the mouth of someone who views going downtown as some sort of journey into the heart of darkness, the phrase “I wish I could join you on your trip” really means “Thank God I’m not going with you to whatever cholera-ridden Oriental hellhole you’ve decided to throw your life away in.” When a childless retiree who has nothing better to do than meddle in the extremely piddling affairs of others tells a doctor who’s taking time off from his lucrative practice to help children in Cambodia that she has “responsibilities,” that’s just cold.

I’m not sure where exactly Mary and Jeff are driving around having this little chat, but clearly the first “responsibility” that Mary has to attend to is to convince the youth of Santa Royale to stop growing little beatnik beards and tuck their damn shirts in.

Crankshaft, 6/30/06

Meanwhile, Crankshaft appears to be about death and farting.

Sally Forth, 6/30/06

Sally Forth is blatantly about hot, hot hammock sex.

Mark Trail, 6/30/06

And in Mark Trail, somebody’s about to get eaten by a bear. Why is it that I find this hilarious in Mark Trail but not in Gasoline Alley? I dunno, man, but I sure do.