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Gil Thorp, 1/28/10

Most hilarious image in today’s comics: Steve Luhm’s sweatshirt, tied around his waist and twirling about madly, making him look like he’s wearing a tutu in panel two. Almost as funny: him following up his Sherlock Holmes-style sussing out of Cassie’s lack of growth with some dribbling advice. Shouldn’t she be really good at dribbling, since she’s been the same distance from the ground for the past few years? Also, shouldn’t her actual paid coach have noticed that her dribbling was terrible?

Judge Parker, 1/28/10

Also a hilarious image: Sam reacts to the information that Neddy has decided to move in with her boyfriend — no, wait, I’m sorry, has taken a “live-in lover,” which sounds much hotter — by performing an angry interpretive dance, in which he channels an enraged chicken of paternal vengeance. You can see in panel two that he’s strained his neck in the process, but the important thing is that he’s made his point.

Pluggers, 1/28/10

I was going to make a joke about how pluggers are so old that plugger hypochondriacs think they’re dying of archaic diseases. But then I did a bit of research (NOT ON WEBMD I AM NO PLUGGER) and found out that today, most beriberi cases occur in alcoholics whose drink-ravaged bodies can no longer properly absorb Vitamin B1. Thus, I’m going to go with “Pluggers are all terrible boozer degenerates” instead.

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Gil Thorp, 1/23/10

“Help” = all-too-interested-in-high-school-athletes creepster janitor Steve Luhm, obviously, whose stint “helping” the girl’s basketball team will turn out to be even less appropriate than his efforts with the boys.

Family Circus, 1/23/10

This is an illustration of the empathy-free horrors that the Keane Kids have become as a result of their monstrous upbringing, and a good reason why the Keane Kompound must be bombed, from a great height, for the safety of all mankind.

Sally Forth, 1/23/10

Having gone behind Ted’s back to loan family money to her deadbeat sister, Sally knows that she has only one chance to deflect her husband’s anger: to finally cater to his fantasy of having sex with Han Solo. Will Han shoot first in this scenario?

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/23/10

Since Hootin’ Holler has long been neglected by the flatlander-dominated government and has never been serviced by any sort of municipal water supply, its impoverished rustic residents have only their own bodily fluids with which to bathe themselves.

Pluggers, 1/23/10

After a plugger dies of a massive coronary, the indelible dents his enormous ass left in the furniture make up the monument he leaves for his descendants to remember him by.

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Pluggers, 1/9/10

My wife has a theory that purse-snatchers should really focus their attention on men who have been forced by their significant other to hold onto said lady-friend’s purse for a few minutes, since they invariably treat it as if it were full of highly radioactive material, attempting to make as little physical contact with the purse as possible and holding it at arm’s length. Our gender-terrified plugger would make an easy mark for such a thief, as it looks as if he’d much rather lose some cash and spend and afternoon calling all his family’s various credit card companies than even briefly being mistaken for, I don’t know, a drag queen or something (OH AS IF HONEY).

Marmaduke, 1/9/10

I have always assumed that the thoughts running through Marmaduke’s head make up an unimaginable melange of nightmare and carnage that would drive any normal mind insane just to contemplate it for an instant; thus, I’m shocked that even Phil Hitler dares to ask the hell-beast’s opinion on matters sexual. Good luck with your rapid descent into madness, Phil!