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Mark Trail, 3/4/09

With a mighty KEN!, Patty single-handedly redefines ludicrous dialogue boldface in Mark Trail; and with a weepy “It’s all my fault!” over the supine form of her beloved abusive husband, she single-handedly sets attitudes about domestic violence back decades. I look forward to seeing just how hilariously offensive the conclusion to this story is: presumably Patty will apologize for forcing Ken to slap her, Ken will allow the deer that caused him massive internal injuries to live in their house, the magazine article Mark will write about the whole affair will arouse such sympathy in the timber-purchasing community that Ken’s business will pick up again, and our happy couple will finally have that baby, which will quickly die of Lyme disease.

Gil Thorp, 3/4/09

CRUTCHES? CRUTCHES? NOOOOOO! I CLENCH MY FIST IN RAGE! See, what the doctor doesn’t realize is that Milford student-athletes are only valued for their physical prowess; like racehorses, once they’re injured, they’re put down so that they don’t take up valuable classroom space that could be used by a point guard who can walk unaided. Ashley knows that Coach Kaz will be waiting at her house with a shotgun if she fails to leave the hospital under her own power.

Alternately, Ashely might be enraged because she realizes that the “doctor” is actually Marty Moon, who has wandered into the hospital hoping to find some unguarded morphine.

Pluggers, 3/4/09

This may be the first time that Pluggers has inspired pity in me rather than rage or contempt. So, you thought the basic literacy and arithmetic skills taught in public schools would help you climb the economic ladder despite your lack of elite connections, eh, pluggers? You poor anthropomorphic saps.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/3/09

So, obviously, the current Rex Morgan, M.D., storyline became boring to me once it stopped being about hot barely closeted nautical action and instead turned into something about, I dunno, medicine-y stuff. Still, I am charmed by this old Mrs. Dunsmore, who is apparently British, and her imperial nostalgia. “Yes, if there’s one group that knows how to run a quarantine, it’s the Brits! Comes from being an island people, you see. We’ll be kept just off shore by polite and heavily armed guards, and occasionally be airlifted crates of digestive biscuits and blood pudding to eat; if the virus rages out of control, of course, they’ll just set the boat on fire with all of us still on it, nodding their heads sagely as we scream for mercy and saying ‘Bit of a sticky wicket, eh wot? Still, had to be done, I suppose. Say, d’you think we have time to catch the Test Match?'”

Pluggers, 3/3/09

Though pluggers are incapable of adequately planning ahead for retirement, their suicide preparations are remarkably meticulous.

Family Circus, 3/3/09

BITE, PJ! DO IT! BITE BITE BITE!

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Gil Thorp, 2/12/09

You know, Gil gets a lot of crap for not actually coaching his players as such. And sure, he doesn’t spend a lot of time on what lesser minds call “the fundamentals” of any of the sports in which his teams compete; but then, that’s why he has assistants like Coach Kaz (whom I don’t think we’ve seen since around the middle of football season) or random old coots who just wander by. No, Gil instead spends his time psychologically manipulating his players to turn them into finely honed sports-playing machines. Whether he’s ordering his athletes to kill or publicly humiliating them with exaggerated “sit your ass down”
pantomime, he seeks to break their wills in order to build them up again.

Pluggers, 2/12/09

Number 1 Thing That Is Awkward To Bring Up When Your Comic’s Characters Are All Anthropomorphic Animals, And Sometimes There Are Mixed Carnivore-Herbivore Marriages: the food chain. Still, the vagaries of evolution and geography have prevented us from enjoying an epic bear vs. kangaroo battle to the death, so perhaps we should be thankful if our bear-plugger goes crazy and start mauling half the restaurant.

Apartment 3-G, 2/12/09

You know, when I was in college, I worked at the library, which was a great job for a number of reasons, not least of which was the fact that I could use the checkout computers to look up the address and phone number of anyone associated with the university, along with the books they currently had checked out. While this was fun (oh my gosh, the dean of students likes books about the 19th century British navy! that cute girl in my English class appears to be a chem major! Greg Graffin never has anything checked out!) it did not, in fact, drive me mad with power, nor did it cause me to keep the people I loved at arm’s length. In other words, this is one of the worst it’s-not-you-it’s-me speeches ever. I could see if Gary had run into Tommie unexpectedly that he might come up with something this weak (“Uh, yeah, I can’t hang out with you at work because of the … computer … information … that I know?”) but presumably he’s had a while to think this up. I give you a D+, Gary. The aggressive pointing isn’t helping.

Momma, 2/12/09

Oh, that Momma and her chronic constipation/diarrhea/flatulence/some other distasteful digestive problem that is no doubt being implied here! The really sad thing, of course, is that whatever it is, it isn’t the most unpleasant topic that’s ever been used as a Momma punchline. It’s probably not even in the top five.