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Family Circus, 4/3/07

Uh oh, Big Daddy Keane, you’ve made a crucial tactical error: The time to extract that sort of promise from Jeffy would have been before you handed the bludgeoning instrument to him, not after he’s gotten his grubby little paws on it and certainly not while he’s lunging at your face, all dead-eyed and zombie-like.

Apartment 3-G, 4/3/07

Today I want to remark not on Margo’s icy callousness, which isn’t really remarkable at all, but on her appalling fashion choices. Seriously, a black turtleneck under some kind of pink button-up … jumper … thing? GIRL, HAS LOVE REGULAR SEXUAL ACTIVITY DESTROYED YOUR BRAIN? She ought to know that she’s made a terrible mistake because she actually looks more Amish than Tommie, who is showing an alluring hint of collarbone today.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/3/07

Thank God this strip keeps June’s priorities in order. “Damn it, Heather, Milton may have gone down to his icy North Atlantic grave, but my awesome rack and ass are still very much alive! Also, Pete’s pants weren’t going to unzip themselves.”

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B.C., 3/16/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because his wife talks a lot, and he’s tired of it, even though he presumably knew she talked a lot when he married her, so he’s got her tied up in the basement with duct tape over her mouth!

Wait, did I say “funny”? Because I meant “horribly offensive.” But see, when he calls her some 19th century term of abuse like “magpie,” it’s all old-timey, so we can just ignore it. Ha ha, that Johnny Hart! That crusty old hateful bastard! Ha!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/16/07

Wait, now hold on just a darn minute. Niki might be pretty good at garage cleaning and such, but there is one — exactly one — person in this neck of the woods who works on fence-related issues. One. And I think we all know who that is:

Hopefully, that’s him at the door right now, to set things straight and present a grossly inflated estimate.

(Baffled Rex-Morgan-readers-come-lately should check out this classic post.)

Apartment 3-G, 3/16/07

You know what offends me about Apartment 3-G? It’s set in New York, right? Now, I don’t live there, but I do love the place. It’s one of those cities in the world that has a really strong sense of place: if you’re there, you know you’re there, and nowhere else. Unless, of course, you’re in Apartment 3-G, which could take place literally anywhere that’s full of tall buildings and white people. The Apartment 3-G girls never take the subway, or a taxi. (Even Neddy and Abbey are taking the Paris Métro, for God’s sake.) They never eat at any of the many famous, recognizable restaurants at their disposal. Starving artist Lu Ann never visits any of the world-class art galleries. And Neil is getting great reviews in the “local press.” I think the world could handle the name of one or more of the major New York papers, people. You can look them up on the Internet even.

Mark Trail, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH HUGE SOULLESS TERRIFYING EYES SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO

Mary Worth, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH MARY INQUIRING ABOUT SOMEBODY’S SEX LIFE SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/15/07

Rex has gone totally insane with his hiring decisions today, but, since his clinic for uninsured children has no obvious source of income, I suppose that an ex-meth-lab employee — excuse me, an incompetent ex-meth-lab employee — is about the best he can hope for. She’ll probably have a harder time blowing the place up on her first day, at least.

I’m kind of touched that May is raising her right hand like she’s making some kind of legally binding declaration. What is she swearing that oath on, her morphine drip?

Curtis, 3/15/07

Curtis has gone totally insane this week, but there are compensations. The smug look on the donkey’s face in panel four is pretty funny; so is the pattern on Mrs. Nelson’s dress.

Crock, 3/15/07

Crock has also gone totally insane. This being Crock, there are no compensations, just a bunch of Frenchmen standing around in the desert next to an inexplicably enormous button.