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Heathcliff, 2/8/26

I gotta respect these guys for saying to hell with the NFL’s trademarks and hanging a giant banner that says “SUPER BOWL” from the ceiling of their living room to mark their Super Bowl party. Sure, it’s not strictly necessary, but it’s festive, and what if an outside viewer caught a glimpse of the room and had forgotten what day it was and needed a signifier in order to parse what exactly they were looking at? These revelers are true heroes. A living room “SUPER BOWL” sign, a dip cat, aliens and robots trying to stymie that dip cat for some reason, but not really trying very hard — all good, normal stuff.

Rhymes With Orange, 2/8/26

I kind of enjoy the way these people, who I assume just recently died, are casually chatting as they queue up to be tortured for all eternity. They spent their life weighted down by sin, so they aren’t surprised to be here or anything, though they are surprised to discover their sins are actually cute li’l anthropomorphized demons.

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Panel from Slylock Fox, 10/12/25

Look, by anthropomorphic animal logic, it’s fine to have an anthropomorphic animal wearing a shirt but no pants or underwear. But what you can’t do is have such a character standing right next to another character who’s talking about the fact that animals in this universe wear underwear, because then all anyone is gonna think about is WHY IS THAT DUCK NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR OH MY GOD

Panel from The Lockhorns, 10/12/25

I’m not going to say that The Lockhorns are great art by any stretch of the imagination, but I will say that there are certain things that the workshop that generates Lockhorns panels absolutely nails, and one of those things is a facial expression I call “chewing joylessly.”

Rhymes With Orange, 10/12/25

You know, newspaper comics as a medium were thriving in 1933. Do you think that once the 21st Amendment was enacted, there were a bunch of extremely square strips that were like, “Ha ha, alcohol! The intoxicant we all know about!” I assume not, because I assume the majority of contemporary comics artists were raging drunks.

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Crock, 9/24/25

In my freshman year of college, there was an outbreak of E. coli at various Jack in the Boxes that killed four children, and a friend of mine who had worked at McDonald’s told me something I have never forgotten, which was that (at the time, anyway) they never taught fast food workers how to tell if a burger was cooked properly, but instead just taught them to put it on a bun when the timer rang. “If that timer went haywire and started ringing early, I would have definitely been serving people raw hamburgers,” he said. It was enough to keep me off fast food hamburgers for life, though for some entirely fake reason the flash-fried breaded chicken products seem safe to me. Anyway, my point is, I was using this news peg to play my fun “what year is this Crock rerun from?” game and was going to triumphantly announce that it was 1993, but then I saw that it actually had a 1997 copyright date, which means that even upon its original publication it was four years out of date.

Luann, 9/24/25

So Gunther and his girlfriend Bets are doing some sort of fundraiser for animal adoption with their cosplay group and are of course cosplaying appropriately. At first I was going to come in hot and absolutely furious at how much more work she had put into her costume than he did, but then I remembered the last time Gunther engaged in sexy, elaborate cosplay it was fucking horrifying, so I think he should actually be discouraged from applying any more effort to this whole thing than he’s doing now.

Rhymes With Orange, 9/24/25

Have you guys seen how much mortuary services cost? If my funeral were botched in such a disgraceful fashion, I would certainly hope that one of my loved ones would speak up on behalf of my dignity and the dignity of those gathered to mourn, rather than just cracking wise.

Mary Worth, 9/24/25

If there’s one thing I hope to have established in 20 years of blogging, it’s that joshreads dot com is your number one website for finding out if today’s comics pages feature Mary Worth, a psychic child, and a guy dressed sort of like an old lighthouse keeper screaming in terror as their hot air balloon crashes into a pine forest. If you’re wondering, today is, at long last, that day.