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Slylock Fox, 10/19/09

One of the things I like about Slylock Fox is the wealth of odd details that make it easy and fun to build the sort of counternarratives that are more or less my stock in trade. For instance, this may seem like just another bit of campground petty theft, but think about it for a minute: why, exactly, is this multi-species collection of critters out in the middle of the blasted wilderness with all their money, staying in a series of makeshift tents, not dressed properly for the weather? My guess: they were called out to this desolate spot by charismatic cult leader Reeky Rat, who promised that they would be taken up to the Great Sky City by the emissary of the Heavenly Aeon in a crystal Cloud-Ship, for which they would have to buy a ticket. If Reeky’s nephew Rodney had merely claimed to be collecting fares for the Sky-Journey, Slylock’s fancy ratiocination would be useless, as his mundane logic can tell you nothing about such higher matters.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/19/09

Hey, remember like a kajillion years ago when there was this Rex Morgan storyline where Pete the Chauffeur was supposed to be good, and then he turned out to be bad, because, I don’t know, it moved the plot along? Well, I’m sort of hoping that’s what’s about to happen here, because lord knows this is a plot that I very much want moved along. Tim’s line in the second panel is probably supposed to be a clumsy pass of the “If you were my wife, I’d love you so much that I’d hire ninjas to follow you everywhere! You’d never have a moment out of my control!” variety, but it would be more exciting if it were leading into “Pete ought to keep better track of you … because now he’ll have to pay a hefty ransom if he ever wants to see you alive again! MOO HA HA HA!”

Barring that, maybe it will be the first thing and Becka and Tim will just fall into an adulterous affair and forget all about his demented mother, who will settle into a wacky sitcom-style lifestyle with the golf pro and the punk rocker. “Hey, old man, I know you’re senile, but could you at least remember to light a match after you stink up the bathroom? This trailer isn’t that big!” “Are you ready for your golf lesson?” “I’m hungry! When are you going to feed us?” [CANNED LAUGHTER]

Lockhorns, 10/19/09

Some of the most unsettling Lockhorns installments are those where the title couple’s trademarked ennui-deadened hate is turned outward, rather than at each other. What, exactly, are Leroy and Loretta doing here? Clicking from link to link, noting the lies and falsehoods, both wearing a heavy-lidded expression that shows that they expected no better from this fallen world? That sad thing is that this may be the most romantic Lockhorns ever, if we accept “sharing an activity” as falling loosely into the “romance” category.

Marvin, 10/19/09

Ha ha, Marvin, wait until you find out that Ms. Landers will no longer be permitting you to spend the day sitting in your own putrefying feces! “What, we can’t shit in our pants anymore? Does she think this is Buckingham Palace or something?”

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Beetle Bailey, 10/11/09

This is a pretty sad demonstration of how Beetle’s half-century stuck in the timeless limbo of Camp Swampy will make it impossible for him to reintegrate into normal society upon his release. Like the hero of Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War, Private Bailey will leave the military and find a civilian world with mores and values outside of his understanding. For instance, he’ll find his clothes to be laughably out of date, and discover that the whimsical pastimes of his native 1950s, such as tree-sitting and breath-holding contests, are no longer relevant in the age of reality TV and Internet pornography. However, he will be pleased to find that the competitive eating scene is still alive and well, and moreover that revolutionary new technologies allow hot dogs to be cooked without being blackened to a crisp.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/11/09

Remember the classic narrative switcheroo at the climax of Silence of the Lambs, when the scene edits make you think that the FBI team is assembling outside the serial killer’s house, but it turns out that they’re in the wrong place and Jodie Foster is ringing his doorbell instead? Well, that’s sort of what happened here, without the tension or excitement. Becka and Tim have been heroically driving through a sodden golf course looking for his runaway mom, whom we’ve been led to believe is holed up in the pro shop there — when in fact they’ve broken and entered into some punk rocker’s trailer, perhaps miles away! Everything about this punk rocker — his piercings, his shaved head, his use of “street” slang like “crib” — is supposed to be terrifying and menacing to us, the solid middle-American comic-reading audience, but I feel obliged to point out that it is, in fact, his crib, and he has a right to protest random old people breaking in and attempting to hold golf lessons there.

Sally Forth, 10/11/09

Oooh, contest — what terrible habit is causing Ted to drain the Forth family finances? Keep in mind that Ted is pure of heart, so all the sleazy things you sickos are thinking of (cocaine, roulette, 15-year-old Thai male prostitutes) are out. I’m thinking that the basement shelves are groaning under the weight of his collection of first-edition GoBots, or that every time he PayPals someone on Craigslist who claims to have a copy of the Star Wars Christmas Special, he’s convinced that this is the time he won’t be disappointed.

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Hi everybody! I am back and EXTREMELY grateful to all of you who gave so generously in the fall fundraiser! Many of you have already received your What Would Margo Do bracelets (I promise a bevy of pics tomorrow), and hopefully the rest will arrive soon; you’ll all be getting email thanks from me as well. And huge thanks go to Uncle Lumpy both for his money-soliciting and comics-mocking prowess, though really he got a reward of his own … with the greatest week in Mary Worth history! Oh, how I envy the man who got first crack at this panel:

Instead, I’m just left with the aftermath:

Mary Worth, 9/27/09

Scott has been shot in violent shoot-out … the best kind, as any aficionado of shoot-outs will tell you. Is he in serious condition, or is he the one who didn’t make it? More importantly, are the seriously wounded cop and the corpse of the other cop just sort of flopping around in the back of this paddy wagon, which appears neither to be an ambulance nor to be staffed by actual paramedics? Will Adrian be able to tell the living from the dead, amid the carnage? STAY TUNED!

Apartment 3-G, 9/27/09

Apartment 3-G, meanwhile, is taking a much sexier path, assuming that you find it sexy when pill fiends offer up their sweet middle-aged bodies to head-shrinking quacks in exchange for pills, which Dr. Papagoras obviously does. Ruby finds the whole thing just plain tawdry, even if it is happening at the Ritz-Carlton, which just goes to show that she’ll never be a real New Yorker.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/27/09

And Rex Morgan managed to combine impending doom and sexytimes with a sly aside out of this bespectacled lothario! “I’m a lover, Becka, not a violent person! Specifically, I’m an extremely skilled lover. Say, you know, I just thought of a clever way we can track down my mother. When I was a teenager, she always had this uncanny knack for coming home right when my girlfriend and I were starting to fool around. What if…” Remember, Becka, it’s not cheating if your husband’s infidelity, or your suspicions thereof, are tearing you up inside!

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/27/09

Ha ha, it’s funny because Snuffy is an unletter’d heathen! Wait, those actually are his most appealing qualities.