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Sally Forth and Curtis, 7/24/06

Ah, yes, summer’s here, making the decaying flesh of commuting zombies all the more pungent, so this confluence of jokes seems obvious. At least Ted’s loopy Ted-ism is supposed to not make sense. Curtis, on the other hand, goes from biting his lower lip in anticipation of zombie carnage to making the universal face from Warner Brothers cartoons caused by swallowing alum, which is supposed to represent — well, I don’t know, exactly. Either it indicates that he’s taken his father’s caustic comment to heart, or that he realizes his dad has, like Ted, gone around the bend. Fortunately, Hilary is grooving to her iPod and can’t hear her dad taking the next step in his slow descent into madness.

Crock, 7/24/06

This strip would be a lot funnier if Crock’s artist were capable of accurately drawing a pretty girl.

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Mary Worth, 6/30/06

You’d think that with all the years he’s spent trying to get into Mary’s comfortable slacks, Jeff would be better at translating Passive-Aggresive into English by now. Clearly, when it comes out of the mouth of someone who views going downtown as some sort of journey into the heart of darkness, the phrase “I wish I could join you on your trip” really means “Thank God I’m not going with you to whatever cholera-ridden Oriental hellhole you’ve decided to throw your life away in.” When a childless retiree who has nothing better to do than meddle in the extremely piddling affairs of others tells a doctor who’s taking time off from his lucrative practice to help children in Cambodia that she has “responsibilities,” that’s just cold.

I’m not sure where exactly Mary and Jeff are driving around having this little chat, but clearly the first “responsibility” that Mary has to attend to is to convince the youth of Santa Royale to stop growing little beatnik beards and tuck their damn shirts in.

Crankshaft, 6/30/06

Meanwhile, Crankshaft appears to be about death and farting.

Sally Forth, 6/30/06

Sally Forth is blatantly about hot, hot hammock sex.

Mark Trail, 6/30/06

And in Mark Trail, somebody’s about to get eaten by a bear. Why is it that I find this hilarious in Mark Trail but not in Gasoline Alley? I dunno, man, but I sure do.

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Mark Trail, 6/17/06

Mark’s editor Bill Ellis is too much of a prude to say it, but another common target for poachers is the tiger penis, which is a primary ingredient in many Chinese aphrodisiacs. If this storyline ends up featuring Mark punching out some sinister Chinese poachers in an attempt to protect the genitals of a poor, innocent Bengal tiger, it will go a long way towards making up for the incomprehensibly stupid and action-free eminent domain/road demolition/weeping orphan plot just concluded.

With the finely wrought mahogany detail work in the background and highball glasses in front of them, Mark and Bill appear to have retired to a fine gentleman’s club or upscale tavern to talk about bear gallbladders and those who would eat them. Perhaps this is why Bill has taken off his stolid grey suit in panel one and put on his slick electric blue jacket for panel three — you know, to attract the ladies. Presumably, Bill has cast aside former Mark Trail touchpiece Kelly Welly now that he’s tired of her physical charms.

Sally Forth, 6/17/06

Tragic proof: The “sly look” is a genetic condition.