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Beetle Bailey, 3/1/09

Sometimes people complain about the mishmosh of anachronisms and inaccuracies that make up the military uniforms in Beetle Bailey, to which I respond: check out what happens when the artists try to draw any other form of clothing. While most of these outfits are rendered with equal parts lazy and terrible (and I long to hear faithful reader Fashion Police’s take on them), I feel must I draw particular attention to Rocky, slouching there smack dab in the middle of this grid of awfulness. While I suppose I am not an authority on what constitutes “urban hip,” I feel that I can with some certainty give examples of what “urban hip” is not, and here is one: an oversized, untucked, bright red waistcoat, worn over what appears to be a white t-shirt with a single, incomprehensible button at the collar.

Zero’s bit of hanky code, meanwhile, is neither to be asked about nor told of.

Family Circus, 3/1/09

More proof that the Keane Kids are unnatural demon-children. “AAGGGGH! The yellow face, it BURNS!”

Mark Trail, 3/1/09

Another example of how the top row of throwaway panels can subtly alter a strip’s dynamics. Without them, today’s Mark Trail is just a charming story of poisonous plants and early biological warfare. But with the mention of the poisonous plants growing in your yard, this becomes a manual for a guerilla army. “So remember, kids, when the invaders come to your town, you’ll have a weapon ready to strike back at them even after they confiscate everybody’s firearms. Wolverines!”

Mary Worth, 3/1/09

Ted has finally and officially been outed as a cad by his cheapskate thought balloon in today’s final panel. I’m sure we’ll have much more delicious character assassination to enjoy over the coming weeks, but today I want to dwell briefly on just how damn pleased with himself Jeff looks as he bellows out his offer to pick up the check. Presumably everyone in his family just views him as a giant talking wallet, and he’s internalized that and is now just desperate to please in the only way he knows how.

Panel from the Phantom, 3/1/09

While Spider-Man’s narration box is acknowledged as the sassiest of superhero narration boxes, the Phantom’s is no slouch. I was particularly impressed by this atmospheric and semi-comprehensible offering today. It sounds like the latest underground hip-hop album to hit the street (though I leave to the reader to determine whether “Day of Reckoning” should be the artist name and Through the Eyes of a Thug the album title, or vice versa).

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The Phantom, 2/8/09

So the Ghost-Who-Dabbles-In-Social-Work has been dishing out some “tough love” to former city street tough Kani, which has consisted of good healthy jungle fun like sexy diaper boxing. Kani was sentenced to Bangalla’s juvenile justice system because he served as a lookout in an armed robbery; thus, I think it would be extra hilarious if the Phantom is now taking him along on a mission to steal whatever goods are in this isolated farmhouse. “What? Where do you think I get the money to keep myself in purple spandex and saddle oil and ammunition? Do you think those cone-hatted dudes are paying me? Please.”

Judge Parker, 2/8/09

Retiring Judge Parker is cowering in his basement, desperate as usual to avoid an appearance in his own namesake comic strip; presumably he’s hoping that once his son Randy has been officially handed the gavel, ensuring the continued existence of another Judge Parker, he can slip out the back door and never again be held responsible for anything that happens here. I am kind of amused by his grim expression in the final panel as he’s being told about the enormous book advance that will soon be his for no good reason. “Damn it, I wanted to know that this check was causing that bastard Cheathem real physical pain when I cashed it! Now that he’s dead and in hell … well, it’s just not the same.”

Mary Worth, 2/8/09

The idea that every single Mary Worth storyline from here on in is going to end with some dude making an incredibly awkward pass at her has filled me with so much glee that I’m willing to ignore the fact that this Olympic skating training center apparently has an occasional “free skate” period. Anyway, “Let’s just enjoy this moment of freedom on the ice” might sound like a sort-of polite way to tell Frank to shut his horny piehole, but I prefer to think of it as an invitation to cop a feel. “Remember, Frank, what happens on the ice stays on the ice!”

Hi and Lois, 2/8/09

The most pathetic aspect of Hi’s midlife crisis fantasy is not that it involves golf; it’s that it apparently centers on someone at long last calling him “mister.” The fact that he can only imagine someone calling him “mister” in a golfing context is the sad foundation on which the whole shameful thing rests.

Blondie, 2/8/09

“They’ve decided to worship you as a god, and are constructing a monstrous idol in our yard! Isn’t it adorable?”

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 2/8/09

It appears that, in today’s final panel, Margo has uttered the ultimate Margo-ism. Now if she’s running short on time but needs to assert herself, she can just quickly refer everyone to this panel before moving on to her next victim.

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Funky Winkerbean, 1/25/09

I’m having a bit of trouble understanding exactly what the idea is that sassy Montoni’s waitress Rachel is trying to get across in the final two panels. Is it “We cover up our anxiety about the quality of our food by aggressively insisting that you eat it at all and pretend to be enjoying it, even though you’ll probably suffer a massive heart attack about halfway through, because of the grease?”

I am not, however, having a hard time following what’s happening on this date. Apparently, earlier Cayla told Les, in a sultry voice and with hooded eyes, that she “didn’t want to be good anymore.” Naturally, he interpreted this as somehow relating to her diet, so he took her to his artery-busting place of part-time employment. The fact that he thinks he’s impressing her by throwing his weight around at the local fast-food place, where he took an afterschool job not because he needed the money but because he was lonely and wanted to spy on his teenage daughter, tells you everything you need to know the direction in which this date is going.

Phantom, 1/25/09

The current Sunday Phantom storyline has featured Kani, a juvenile delinquent from the mean streets of Mawitaan, being rehabilitated by the Phantom and his cheerful children. Today Kani learns a few lessons that will do him well in the tough, gang-ridden environment where he grew up: that punches with padded gloves will easily best men with guns (this coming from the only superhero I know who carries a pistol), and that when you land a particularly good punch your opponents will remark favorably on your pugilistic skills. Surely if the big purple guy just wanted Kani offed, he could do it more efficiently than this; presumably this is part of some elaborate reality-prank show, where Kani will get gunned down in an alley on his first day back home and then they’ll play a muted-horn wanh wanh WANNNNH.

Slylock Fox, 1/25/09

The main Slylock Fox mystery isn’t particularly interesting to me today (he’s going to eat the fortune? really?) but I am charmed by the puzzle in the strip’s top layer. Presumably, Grandpa has set up this elaborate brain-teaser to make his grandkids feel bad both about their intellectual limitations and about forgetting his birthday. “So you know the birthday cards you get every year with a $20 bill inside? Well, you can forget seeing any more of those. That’s now what I call ‘Grandpa’s bourbon fund.'”

Mark Trail, 1/25/09

Coloring madness during the week (and yes, I do intend to follow up with you nice people who contacted me about it, I swear) can at least be explained by the fact that the Monday-through-Saturday strips are drawn and colored by different people, who don’t necessarily speak to one another. That doesn’t help answer the question of why this Sunday strip features what appear to be pigeons bearing parakeet markings. Presumably next week’s nature lesson will be about wild mushrooms: which are OK to eat and which are OH MY GOD THE COLORS THE COLORS.