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Apartment 3-G, 10/16/07

You’d think I’d be disappointed by Margo’s failure to unleash an act of unspeakable violence upon Eric Mills for his failure to marry her, but frankly I’m finding “stiff upper lip/intense self-delusion Margo” even more entertaining than “man-killing Margo” would have been. Lu Ann’s extremely restricted amnesia is also back, because she has clearly forgotten her upcoming art show at the Mills Gallery once again; she wouldn’t look so damn perky if she realized that this nepotistic appointment will put Margo in charge of her and her ex-junkie boyfriend/curator, whom Margo holds in contempt. On the other hand, maybe she’s secretly so despondent about her brain damage that she’s attempting suicide-by-Margo; no one can expect our gal Magee to repress her rage forever, particularly when being needled as she is in panel three. Tommie sees enough blood and broken bones at work, which is why she’s covering her eyes.

Family Circus, 10/16/07

Dolly, ever the kiss-up, has apparently decided that the ants will inevitably emerge victorious in their long war against the human race. She imagines that when she’s prodded by the warriors’ mandibles into the vast breeding chamber, she’ll be able to say to the queen, “Your majesty! I have always been a friend to the ants! I made sure that the choicest morsels that fell to the ground remained there! I favored the ants over my own brood-mates!” But the sinister colony insects don’t understand human qualities like “loyalty” or “forgiveness,” Dolly. You’ll be sucked dry of your nutritive value and used to feed the larvae, just like everyone else.

Judge Parker, 10/16/07

AHHH! PEOPLE! THIS ROBUST, OAKY MERLOT IS MADE OF PEOPLE! YOU’VE GOT TO BELIEVE ME!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/16/07

Nice try, Niki, but Rex Morgan doesn’t use fatties for arm candy. You can have the diet soda, or you can have ninety minutes on the treadmill — your choice.

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Mark Trail, 10/13/07

I am heaving (hopefully not premature) thanks up to the Gods of Comics that this lame, lame, lame-ass Mark Trail storyline is finally meandering to a halt. I have disliked it both for its numerous lapses in logic and good sense and for its failure to produce a target for Mark’s fists. For the most part, I have ignored this plot in the hopes that it would go away, but I feel compelled to point out the pink stripe arching up from Evil Developer Jr.’s temple in panel three. What appears from most angles to be a lustrous, curly head of hair is actually one of the most epic combovers in human history, a work of cosmetological engineering as impressive in its own way as the Hoover Dam. Still, for all the effort that’s gone into it, it’s only staving off the inevitable, and the son will have to follow dad’s example and switch to the Lollypop Guild ’do eventually.

Mary Worth, 10/13/07

“…I want to give you this item of great importance … that’s IN MY PANTS!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/13/07

“…a .38 special revolver … IN MY PANTS!”

Jesus, every time I try to ignore the subtext in Rex Morgan, the text gets less sub. I’ll bet you’d like to learn how to shoot, Niki. Also, does anyone else think the “Y?” hat is a little flirty? This kid is totally asking for it.

Pluggers, 10/13/07

Note to self: Acquire separate business phone line post haste.

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Family Circus, 10/10/07

It was only now, when it couldn’t be postponed any further, that her family explained the concept of “death” to her. Thus began her transformation into “Dolly Keane, the littlest goth”.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/10/07

“Old” here is actually polite euphemism. The word Niki is really thinking of is “stupid.”

Ziggy, 10/10/07

Dear comics artists everywhere: Jokes about “Girls Gone Wild” ceased to be cutting-edge and relevant in 2001, and ceased to be amusing in 2003. Now they are only off-putting and disturbing. Please cut it out. Thank you.

Dick Tracy, 10/10/07

DEAR GOD WHERE DID THAT CHIP COME FROM AND HOW DID IT GET INTO DICK’S HAND