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Funky Winkerbean, 11/11/08

Every long-running narrative form drifts towards its own extremes, which explains how Funky Winkerbean went from being an occasionally melancholy strip about high school hijinks to a charnel house. Hopefully today’s near-wordless installment is about to take things to the next level: instead of being struck down by alcoholism or cancer or garden-variety despair, Montoni is going to be devoured by the rampaging Tyrannosaurus Rex that has escaped from a secret underground genetics lab, and is now eating everything in sight. Hopefully, the new accelerated pace of death will kill off all the strip’s characters in short order, opening us up for a new, happier beginning, or at least three blank panels a day in which nobody weeps openly.

Crankshaft, 11/11/08

Meanwhile, over in the “fun” Funkyverse strip, the complex issue of Afghan poppy cultivation — which is the only means that many impoverished Afghan farmers have to make a living, but which fuels terrorism and religious extremism in the region and desperate addiction in the United States — provides the source material for a terrible joke about pastries for Crankshaft to squint angrily at. Crankshaft is irritated by this news report, naturally, because it promises that the smack that makes his life bearable will be more expensive in the coming months.

Apartment 3-G, 11/11/08

The third-stringers continue to stink up the field here in Apartment 3-G, as Gary, completely rattled by a little razzing from Dr. Kelly, flails emotionally at Tommie for no reason. “You two work together. Is he always a little … ODD???? Hey, don’t walk so far away when I’m shouting paranoid nonsense at you!” It’s just as well that Tommie found out that Gary can’t deal with difficult people now, before she took him home to be terrified by Margo.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/11/08

“Seriously, no more! Your heterosexual shenanigans repulse me.”

Marmaduke, 11/11/08

“Guess who’s got rabies! Me, soon enough.”

Pluggers, 11/11/08

OH FOR THE LOVE GOD NO PLUGGERS AND GARAGE CLEANING NOOOOOO

(For you Johnny- and Janey-come-latelies who don’t know what “garage cleaning” is code for, travel back in time.)

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Gil Thorp, 11/10/08

The Sad Story Of Soft-Hearted Jeff And Matt The Hat reached its natural climax last week; but if we learned anything from the Sad Story Of Elmer The Unwitting Illegal Immigrant, it’s that Gil Thorp cares nothing for your fancy literary theories as to what constitutes a satisfying narrative arc. No, we’re instead going to be subjected to the meandering post-big-reveal goings-on around Milford High, in which our students and coaches will try and mostly fail to grapple with the new reality that’s been unveiled. It’s just like real life, but with worse hair and more mutant disembodied flipper-hands.

Anyway, the ’Czak is being hailed school-wide as a hero, as beefy morons who risk their lives for the entertainment of others always are, which means that his heart-healthy behatted friend will take the fall. The sad thing is that the arbiter of Milford ethics is the Milford Trumpet, a publication that can’t do better for signage than a piece of paper taped to a doorway. It’s probably not surprising that Matt’s journalistic overlords are upset for his participation in this deception, but I feel compelled to point out that they didn’t see any problem with him writing a glowing piece about his best friend.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/10/08

As is all too typical for me, I totally lost interest in the current Rex Morgan plotline once it got “exciting.” To wrap up briefly: Tweaks’s boat capsized, Rex leapt into the water to save him, and Lenore and Tweaks made up in the ambulance, because it turns out that he didn’t actually cheat on her with some young secretary — he just told people that he did, which is totally OK. This strip in noteworthy, though, because in panel two Rex, speaking as Lenore’s doctor, helpfully points out that she’s going to die soon.

Spider-Man, 11/10/08

Hey, everybody, remember Saturday, when Spidey had mysteriously burst free from Big Time’s nutty handcuffs? Well, it turned out that, uh, didn’t happen. I’m OK with this blatant discontinuity, though, because it provides an opportunity for more Spider-Boneheadery, as our hero uses an oncoming train to burst his bonds, with his total dismemberment being only a minor side effect. My heart goes out to those commuters whose trip home will be delayed.

Gasoline Alley, 11/10/08

Also, remember Saturday when Gasoline Alley promised us a wacky Bonnie and Clyde-esque flight from the law across America? Well, it turns out that Slim will just be talking about his big ass instead, with visual aids.

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Shoe, 10/26/08

Sunday’s Shoe has discovered the ultimate recipe for hilarity: have a bunch of characters, most of whom you’ve never met before and have no attachment to, sitting around telling tedious jokes about how boring they are. In the gut-busting climax, the Perfesser tells a joke that’s both boring and ancient; ironically, the syndicate seems to have demanded that the awkward phrase “in eminent danger” replace the more obvious and straightforward “dying,” thus making the gag even duller.

By the way, I shaved the initial panels off of the shockingly huge Sunday Shoe graphic, because they were even less interesting than the ones you see here.

Mary Worth, 10/26/08

Speaking as a connoisseur, this is an extremely satisfying Mary Worth, combining as it does fan favorites (random, rambling platitude-laden thought ballooning) and exciting new elements (laughable fantasy skating action). Mary’s “ocean wave” riff is echoed by the oddly shaped clouds out her window; it’s possible that those are actual ocean waves, and her plane is about to plow into the sea and deliver her to her watery grave, but that’s probably asking too much.

Slylock Fox, 10/26/08

I actually agree that Rachel Rabbit’s accusation is ridiculous. It’s obvious that any attempt on Reeky’s part at electrical work more complex than plugging in a hot plate would result in his immediate painful and high-voltage death.

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/26/08

Yes, of course he is, dear.