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Nothing in Sunday’s funnies set my curmudgeonly world on fire, so I’m doubling up on Saturday:

Gil Thorp, 12/3/05

Gil Thorp is in the midst of proving that its divorce from anything even vaguely resembling competitive athletics is total. In the midst of Milford High’s biggest football game of the year, with the championship on the line, goody-goody Sean Pettibone admitted to the referees that he had stepped out of bounds on an apparent touchdown play. This is short order has rid him of his hateful, helmet-haired girlfriend and won him the affection of the towering cornrowed nice girl who’s been eyeing him all semester. Weirder yet, he’s being protected from the rightful vengeance of his fellow players by … Brent? Brent “Rap Dog”? For those of you who aren’t familiar with this strip’s pantheon of losers, this is the aforementioned Brent:

In what plane of existence is this young man handing out swirlies, rather than suffering on the receiving end of so many that his otoretolaryngologyst would be financially secure for the rest of his life? Seriously, if kids like this are administering swirlies in high school these days, I want to go back. I’ve got a list of deserving candidates.

Meanwhile, in Santa Royale:

Mary Worth, 12/3/05

I’m having a hard time remembering: what was it that goeth before the fall again? Oh, yeah, it’s insufferable goddamn smugness. Wilbur, a few weeks from now, when you’re standing terrified on your kitchen table, trying to fend off a mob of angry, lonely women with nothing but a broom handle, you may want to look back on this moment with a certain degree of humility.

Actually, Mary Worth did provide Sunday’s high point of interest. Things seem to be looking up for Josh “Mr.” Hand, the latest collateral victim of Wilbur’s lousy advice, especially now that he’s mysteriously morphed into David Bowie!

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Jeez, our power was restored this afternoon, but there was deep server wonkiness this evening that almost forced me to put off a new post yet another day. Thank goodness it got resolved just in time for me to put up a loopy, two-o’clock-in-the-morning, caffeine-fueled post. I feel like I’m seeing transparent divorce birds bumping see-through uglies in midair or something.

Mark Trail, 11/28/05

I was convinced that we were going to be forced to endure the Most Boring Mark Trail Plotline Ever™, which seemed destined to go something like this: “Hey, it’s an incredibly rare bird!” “Let’s call in an expert to verify it!” “No, that’s not the bird you’re looking for.” “Oh, well, thanks anyway!” But just in time to stave off this disastrously dull denouement arrives this clan of inbred, overall-clad bumpkins, determined to shake things up by striking back at the Northeastern liberal elite the only way they know how: by kidnapping an innocent dog. Perhaps the long, snooze-inducing buildup is Elrod’s little way of telling us that, despite Mark Trail’s ostensible nature-focused narrative purpose, actual nature is actually boring, and we should be thankful when the strip returns to its true calling, which is to say: fisticuffs in which our attractive, square-jawed hero defeats ugly people. You better watch yourself, there, no-neck: Mark Trail doesn’t take kindly to dognappers. You’re much more likely to get a knuckle sandwich than the “over a thousand bucks” you’re dreaming about.

By the way, the phrase “Pa, please don’t steal any more pets!” is going on a craptacular item that you can buy with good money soon. Mark my words.

Blondie, 11/29/05

You know what I like best about today’s Blondie? It’s the fact that the punchline depends on a homonym, so it’s only obvious in word balloon form. I’d like to imagine that Baldo McMustache here continues to stare blankly at the sleeping Dagwood, wondering desperately if there was a season of American Idol that he missed or something (“Isn’t he too old for the show anyway? My God, is that Bo Bice with his hair cut short?”). Meanwhile, Mr. Dithers looks back and forth between the idiot and the narcoleptic and wonders again about just how his HR minions make their decisions.

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Mary Worth, 11/15/05

Yeah, reciting lines from a play! Or, you know, incredibly stilted dialogue from a lame soap opera comic!

OK, so because I am a little paranoid and self-important (aren’t these two sides of the same coin?) I wondered if “Josh” — who shares my name and hair color and penchant for trashing the dialogue in Mary Worth — weren’t a subtle homage to my greatness from the soapmeisters at King Features. I floated this theory to Mrs. C., who was with me until the part when I noted that this Josh was a workaholic.

Anyway, lots of good action in this strip — in motion line form! Watch out, Josh, Jane’s got a pointy nail heading right for your eye! He responds the only way he knows how — by grabbing her on the upper arms and rotating his freakishly oversized shoulders back and forth, hoping to somehow calm her down or at least induce motion sickness. Actually, with the big shoulders and the vibrating, it kind of looks like he’s wearing David Byrne’s big suit from the “Once In A Lifetime” video. Except this being Mary Worth, it’s been dyed electric blue for the occasion.