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Crankshaft, 11/5/15

OK, I admit it: I will genuinely enjoy it if Ralph’s near-impossible dream is derailed by Crankshaft’s incompetence. It would bring things to a level of sad-sackery reminiscent of Peanuts, and I genuinely mean that as a compliment. Perhaps Crankshaft will actually engage in some self-reflection and self-recrimination, which I can only endorse; plus, let’s face it, Ralph would in fact be a terrible mayor.

Gil Thorp, 11/5/15

Welp, Holly has finally figured out what it’s gonna take to get Welcome Back, Carter ratings up to Survivor levels: some red-hot awkward English-teacher-making-a-failed-pass-at-football-coach action! I honestly can’t tell if she’s underestimating or overestimating the American viewing public here.

Pluggers, 11/5/15

Pluggers remember when they were kids, when all they wanted to do was run and jump and play and move their bodies in all sorts of ways. Now, things are different. Now they’d rather move as little as possible, and even when they aren’t moving, they can’t quite seem to find a way to arrange their body so that some part of it doesn’t hurt. Sometimes pluggers think about how when they’re in the grave, they won’t have to move at all, and they won’t be able to feel anything. Pluggers have been thinking about that more and more lately.

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Hagar the Horrible, 10/30/15

Thank goodness that we, as a society, have advanced to the point where the The Horribles’ healthy, active sex life can be openly discussed in the newspaper.

Pluggers, 10/30/15

In the end, it wasn’t concern for their own well-being or the terrible toll on their families and friendships that got pluggers to take a hard look at their dependence on alcohol; it was their own physical infirmity.

Gasoline Alley, 10/30/15

THE DEAD ARE RISING

THE DEAD ARE RISING FROM THE GRAVE

THE RAPTURE IS HERE AND THE COMICS ARE FIRST

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Apartment 3-G, 10/24/15

The sad fate of Apartment 3-G is apparently not quite official enough for Wikipedia, but Mark Trail artist James Allen, prompted by my post, got in touch with King Features and got confirmation that the strip is on its way out. This is obviously really depressing to me, but I’m going to try to keep it together and give the strip the best send-off I can, which is to say I’ll mock it with affection till it’s in the grave. At least we’re finally going to get the resolution to the one storyline that’s nagged at us for years: the will-they-or-won’t-they romance between Margo’s parents, who are presumably going to get married in the hospital chapel while a comatose Margo’s respirator whirrs in the background. “I haven’t been a great husband, Gabby,” says the man who was married to someone else when he knocked Gabby up, then forced that woman to raise Margo as her own, then had her bundled away to a private “psychiatric facility” upstate. Oh, hey, remember how said wife referred to Martin as “my husband” during the plotline where she came back and tried to kill him? What if they never formally got divorced? What if this turns into a real Jane Eyre-type situation, with “upstate” just a code for “this hospital where Margo is now, which is probably north of the park or something?” That would be an amazing send-off, honestly, if a crazed Bobbie Merrill were to burn the place down in a fit of madness and kill every last character.

Beetle Bailey, 10/24/15

General Halftrack’s expression of genuine despair, as he pleads with his clergyman to explain why he feels so spiritually adrift, why he’s unable to feel the presence of his Creator, is so vivid and poignant that I felt actively angry about Chaplain Stainglass’s flippant answer. I consoled myself by imagining that he was in fact being very literal. “Ah, yes, it’s possible that you’ve been calling … the wrong number … if you get my drift” [winks] [passes General Halftrack a piece of paper with “WORSHIP LORD MOLOCH” written on it]

Pluggers, 10/24/15

Look, guys, pluggers just have to go to the bathroom a lot, OK? They don’t enjoy getting occasional whiffs of urine or feces while they’re dining. That’s just a rumor, just a disgusting rumor, and they’re tired of you spreading it around.