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My Cage, 9/4/08, and New Adventures of Queen Victoria, 9/3/08

I never claimed to be some kind of paragon of integrity or anything, so, here you go, comics artists: if you mention me by name in your strip, I will acknowledge it in my blog, because I’m a whore like that, though sometimes I’ll be a day late. This is the New Adventures of Queen Victoria, a pleasingly wacky vaguely-historically-themed public-domain-clip-art-based strip that is on the GoComics site (and maybe in newspapers?). It’s usually not as meta as this installment, though you know I love meta. It’s far enough away from the traditional daily strips that I mock here to get regular attention, but I did finally pop it into my RSS reader. Take a look, won’t you?

Speaking of meta, the characters in My Cage are coming perilously close to recognizing their own fictional nature. Hopefully it’s not my site serving as the locus of their eternal torment when the Cartoonists turn their back on them.

Family Circus, 9/4/08

Speaking of those rejected by their Creator, we have Jeffy desperately trying to get the attention of the benevolent God that he still believes to exist, despite the evidence of his own torment. It doesn’t matter how loud you shout, Jeffy! You’re always going to have to debase yourself with awful puns and wear the hideous purple union suit, because that is His inscrutable plan.

Apartment 3-G, 9/4/08

And speaking of whores, Apartment 3-G continues its policy of darkly hinting at the lows to which drug abuse can bring you without actually spelling anything out. “Time to get out there and make some money … at my job as a middle manager in the accounts receivable department of a mid-sized corporation! Oh, there’s no level of depravity I won’t stoop to so I can get some more of that sweet, sweet dope!”

Herb and Jamaal, 9/4/08

You’ve probably missed it what with all the nonspecificity rampant in this strip, but the place where Herb and Jamaal crack vaguely wise with one another each day is a soul food restaurant that they own and operate together. Thus, the fact that Herb has dragged his ennui-inducing diet lunch to the restaurant to eat ought to tell you something about the stuff that our dynamic duo serve to their customers. “I mean, a carrot and juice is pretty bland, but God knows I’m not eating the horror that we cook here. I’d be dead of colon cancer within the week.”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/4/08

A casual observer might think that Rex and June are gently mocking Lenore in this exchange, but longtime RMMD readers know that they’re actually seeing who can inflict the most passive-aggressive wound on the other here. June taunting Rex with the prospect of sex with a woman, Rex boasting of his future “cabin boy” antics … good times. I have no idea what Rex’s plan for that thing in his right hand in the third panel is, and I’m not sure I want to know. The best we can hope for is that he’s going to stab himself in the throat to end his misery.

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Gil Thorp, 9/2/08

Wait … in panel two … is that … YES! COACH KAZ’S EARRINGS ARE BACK! COACH KAZ’S EARRINGS ARE BACK! This, along with the shadowy figure lurking in the back of the equipment shed (no doubt with an axe) has me so excited that I’m willing to forgive the fact that in panel three we’re being shown word balloons emerging randomly out of GYM rather than some kind of crazy homoerotic mass “group physical” featuring dozens of teenage boys and the author of I Know This Much Is True.

By the way, any guesses on the Very Special Affliction that is keeping some player to be named later off of this year’s gridiron squad? Scabies? Testicular cancer? Bighandulism?

Funky Winkerbean, 9/2/08

Thank goodness for my faithful commentors, who informed us all that Susan Smith Westbrook was the student who pre-time-jump fell in love with mopey Les for some reason and tried to kill herself when he didn’t return her mopey advances. Naturally this strip will be completely baffling to anyone who isn’t privy to this information, even if, like me, they’ve been following Funky Winkerbean faithfully for the last three years. Anyway, Susan’s thousand-mile stare in panel three promises more psychotic hijinks to come. She looks like she’s spent most of her life fleeing across Darfur one step ahead of genocidal militias — or, you know, like she’s a character in Funky Winkerbean.

Archie, 9/2/08

At first I was going to guess that “SHOOOM! KA-BLAM!” represented Archie ka-blamming in his pants as he finally gets to first base with Veronica. But on closer inspection of panel three, I think that’s a transcription of the noises his spine makes as he attempts to twist around for optimal out-making while keeping his crotch pointed firmly away from his partner, as the strict puritan movie theater rules demand.

Mary Worth, 9/2/08

“Easy for you to say … since you’re sitting in front of a computer … and can just do exactly what you described with the touch of a button … oh, God, this so so horrible!” [uncontrollable sobbing, etc.]

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/2/08

“Yes, she’s a desperate, lonely old woman, possibly in the early stages of dementia! Better cash that check before someone responsible gets wind of it!”

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Panels from For Better Or For Worse, 8/31/08

So I was mostly defeated by the FBOFW Wall o’ Text that greeted me on Sunday, but I feel I have to say something, so…

Thank God Deanna gave up on that pharmacist gig to finally get into an acceptable profession for an ovaries-bearing Canadian: sewing, and the sale of sewing accoutrements. Now at last a more qualified man can take her old job advising women on how to “accidentally” not take the pills he prescribes!

The “just for laughs” angle baffles me a little bit. Perhaps now that the Pattersons and their hangers on aren’t being monitored and controlled minutely by their Creator, they won’t be forced to end every interpersonal transaction with a terrible pun; but Deanna, in some form of Stockholm Syndrome, is no longer able to survive without the constant corny jokes.

But April, at least, got out. And got to get it on with a cowboy, whom she’ll presumably drop like a hot potato when she finds out that Gerald is getting divorced.

Anyway, Ces Marciuliano’s Medium Large today pretty much has the definitive statement on the subject.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/31/08

“For $10,000 to the clinic, she can write anything she wants!” Oh, Rex, you’re such a whore for humiliation. And for money.

I’m kind of in love with Rex’s little office-basketball move in panel four. “Check it out, everyone! I may not be a big yachting expert, but I’ve still got the athletic talents of my youth! I’m totally not going to cry like a little baby next week while clinging to the side of the boat and projectile vomiting!”

Slylock Fox, 8/31/08

In today’s puzzle, Slylock has gone back to his “Teach other creatures how to be meddling detectives” gig that we’ve seen before. You’d think that this would just produce competition for his own work as a freelance nosey detective, but maybe he gets the big bucks for these classes — especially in this case, in which he isn’t lecturing to kids but appears to be running some sort of adult education program. But the one who looks really anxious about obsolescence is Max, who is regarding that duck with the notepad suspiciously. “Wait — is a sidekick supposed to write things down? Oh, God, I’m going to be replaced! Please, don’t, Sly! I have no job skills!”

Panel from Marvin, 8/31/08

I kind of love this panel out of context. The joke is about terribly fiery grilling accidents, a trope that (and here’s a sentence I don’t think anyone has ever written before) is done better in Crankshaft; but in this panel on its own, with the parents regarding each other with heavy-lidded hostility and Marvin’s eyes wide with terror, it pretty much reads like a threat.