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Today’s comics prove that the right weapon can nurture a relationship’s fragile beginning, extend its blissy peak, or bring it to a swift, bitter end — let’s see how!

The Phantom, 3/19/10

Here, Ghost-Who-Walks and Captain-Who-Stalks enjoy a rousing round of armaments-themed flirting. It won’t be long before those torpedo doors fly open, the heavy ordinance rumbles from its below-decks shotlocker, and a gleaming projectile slides its way all snug up inside that smokin’ hot barrel.

Next: BOOM!, a shared cigarette, and lounging around in purple bathrobes.

Beetle Bailey, 3/19/10

Poor Major Greenbrass’s wistful longing for General Halftrack glows soft as a candle beside Sarge’s white-hot torch for Beetle. But still, when stirred by the roar of massed air and ground forces, the Major manages to gin up a heroic narrative exalting his beloved’s pathetic shortcomings to the grand scale of epic failures by history’s other insecure, tyrannical, nutjob runt.

Apartment 3-G, 3/19/10

Drug-addled, vengeance-crazed, and Papagoras-blather-benumbed, Bobbie nevertheless understands illegal commerce better than her mugger-turned-gun-dealer pal! Let’s go over the basics for him:

• Muggers have the upper hand in their transactions; salespeople don’t. Customers won’t cower like your victims did.
• People buy untraceable guns specifically to commit crimes; some of them will get caught. Therefore, do not create traceable associations with your customers!
• This specifically means do not accompany customers into banks, lest you be photographed together. ProTip — wearing a hoodie into a bank will not help you escape attention.
• Don’t confuse your customer by asking why you should trust her: your profession is founded on mistrust. And what’s the worry? That she’ll give you someone else’s cash? Seriously, even if she bails on you, you’re out what — busfare?
• Think ahead: once you give her the gun, why shouldn’t she mug you for her money back? This is Margo’s insane evil stepmother we’re talking about, right?

Mary Worth, 3/19/10

Alas, sometimes the love is real but the artillery only a reader’s earnest fantasy. Could anything less than murder avenge the months of graceless frolicking, the arid Marylessness, and the interminable sandwichery we’ve endured for a payoff as insipid as, “I learned fatherhood from a man who was not my father.” I swear, we had better get a pool party out of this mess.

Speaking of messes, you have to credit the hilarious squalor of the life Kurt fled and now reëmbraces. Bare lath on every wall, mirror cracked in ways mirrors don’t crack, every picture and doorframe askew. Kurt looks glad to see his pregnant girlfriend, though. He must not know the child is Wilbur’s.

Spider-Man, 3/19/10

Yak yak yak ogle yak yak yak yak yak. This is like 9 Chickweed Lane, with bigger chins and less actual fighting.

Crankshaft, 3/19/10

Pam’s pinchlipped scorn gives way to shock that her husband is as big a douche as her father, and that her creators still have no idea how to set up a joke — except for the cruel one they inflict on her, day after endless day.

Hey, Josh is off on vacation out in scenic Undisclosed Location; I’m subbing for the week. If you have site issues, please contact me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net — to reach Josh personally, try bio@jfruh.com but expect a wait.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Herb and Jamaal, 2/23/10

Today’s Herb and Jamaal is so bizarrely phrased that I almost think the AJGLU-3000 is moonlighting. “Do you recall your playing days in the NBA?” Herb asks, apparently worried that Jamaal’s years of substance abuse could wipe out huge chunks of his memories without warning. And indeed, Jamaal’s response seems to indicate that he does in fact suffer from serious cognitive deficits, as it makes little to no sense. “Green” is supposed to imply a lack of experience, but “didn’t even make that shade” sort of implies old-fashionedness. It’s all so puzzling that I almost wish that “anymore” in the last word balloon were bolded; it’s not as if the final-word-bolding in the other panels conveyed any sort of parsable semantic content, but it at least provided a sort of arbitrary structure I could hold on to in this sea of incoherence.

Gil Thorp, 2/23/10

I wouldn’t worry too much about a Cassie-Steve love connection, mom, as Cassie’s so embarrassed at just saying the word “janitor” that she has to stage-whisper it to you, hiding her mouth in case someone nearby can read lips and find out she’s been consorting with the lower classes. But just in case, mom has donned her Roman centurion uniform in panel three, determined to shield her daughter from the handsy attentions of the twentysomething set, just as the Legions defended Rome’s empire from marauding bands of barbarians.

Mark Trail, 2/23/10

Oh, God, is Mark, the worst husband ever? I’m assuming that Cherry’s panicked “MARK” comes not from seeing the banner headline “SENATOR BEATEN BY THUGS; NOTED OUTDOORSMAN CAN ONLY WATCH,” but because she’s always convinced, based on long experience, that Mark is in grave danger wherever he goes. And indeed Mark is holding back vital information. “I just wanted to call and tell you how much I miss you! I’ll be home as soon the vigilante rabble I’m assembling finishes dishing out brutal mob justice!”

Phantom, 2/23/10

I’m sure that I would be pretty depressed if I were a kid and experiencing what Kit and Heloise are going through — mother presumed dead, father blinded by grief and wandering the world without me. That having been said, there are few things that would have excited middle-school-aged Josh Fruhlinger more than meeting the Speaker of the National Assembly — any nation’s National Assembly, really. I was a profoundly dorky youth.

I also would have been pretty psyched to hang out with someone so relentlessly committed to proper dress that he wears a morning coat even to eat breakfast at home. Still, his wife is dressed awful casually, which sort of ruins the effect. One man can not preserve a lost world’s formalities on his own, Lamanda, even if he is the president.

Apartment 3-G, 2/23/10

Sounds like business-savvy Martin Magee has taken a “Negotiating to Yes!” seminar lately. “Look, Margo, I don’t care if I have to foxtrot, or samba, or maybe give you some money, or what. What I want most of all is for you to love me, but for me not to really have to put a lot of effort into it. If I can work a dancing metaphor of some kind in there, that’d be great.”

Judge Parker news! A little birdie (named bourbon babe) tells me that she’s heard from the folks at King Features that (a) Eduardo Barreto has definitely decided to retire (boo) and that (b) the new permanent artist will be Mike Manley, who starts on March 15. You can see Mike’s blog here; you can find samples of his comic book work around the Internet, none of which is really of the soap opera style. It will be interesting to see how it looks! UPDATE: Just saw on the previous thread a link from faithful reader Dave to some work by Manley on Secret Agent X-9, a King Features adventure strip. Check it out!

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Archie, 2/2/10

There are a number of unsettling objects that have spilled out of Jughead’s locker. It’s probably actually not unsettling to see that Jughead owns at least one spare crown-hat; I had (I think with some justification, based on his character) assumed that Jughead only owned a single hat, which was by this point frayed and stained with years of hair-grease. Any points gained for this are instantly lost, however, by the sight of that sandwich, which despite its many layers is cohering together as a single, immutable unit as it tumbles across the rubble, possibly due to its condiments having long ago congealed into a binding more powerful than concrete. And, of course, the less said about the tiny scale model of Archie as a double amputee the better.

Crock, 2/2/10

Wow, if you had asked me who Crock’s chief gag artist saw as his avatar in the strip, the loathed and incompetent leader of the Lost Patrol would not have been anywhere on my list. But I can sort of see the connection.

Marmaduke, 2/2/10

Ha ha, some namby-pamby liberal judge thinks that Marmaduke can be restrained from his usual horrors by an electronic ankle bracelet! At best, the device will merely offer the authorities the means to create a real-time map of his swath of devastation.

Mary Worth, 2/2/10

Even Wilbur is getting bored by the tales of his romantic failures, and so he decides to liven things up with a hearty Black Power salute. Soon afterwards, someone comes by and gives him a soothing scalp massage, if what I’m seeing in panel two makes any sort of sense in the Euclidian space-time continuum that I’m accustomed to.

Phantom, 2/2/10

So, it appears that the Phantom is going to use his presumed widowhood to go around boffing all the ladies who ever had eyes for him. We begin with Captain Savarna, who made eyes at him during the Crocco Adventure (no, really) that happened last year, and is now wooing him with her butt-sculpting “uniform” pants and strokeable phallic torpedoes. Later, our hero will presumably finally make the Jungle Patrol gals’ dreams of seducing their Unknown Commander come true. We’ll eventually find out how well the “But honey, I assumed you were dead!” approach works as a justification for infidelity, especially when the unfaithful partner doesn’t bother to do much legwork to actually confirm his widowed status.

Momma, 2/2/10

Based on what I’ve learned from Apartment 3-G, I’m guessing Momma is showing up for her weekly sex-for-pills appointment. The pinched look on her face indicates that she’s past the point of even pretending to enjoy it.