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Judge Parker, 5/13/16

I can’t really decide whether Judge Parker HQ has an elaborate “follow the money” chart on the wall that explains precisely the complex financial relationship between country star Rocky Ledge, movie star Godiva Danube, Rocky’s tell-all book about his marriage to Godiva, and Neddy’s old person sweatshop, or if the details keep shifting and the point is just to keep these two good-looking nutballs in the strip somehow. All I know is that there are plenty of people who would pay someone good money to stare at them with eyes like Godiva’s in panel three and order them to “get down on your knees and thank us for your tawdry windfall.”

Shoe, 5/13/16

You might think, based on my last eleven or twelve years of blogging, that I’m a cynical guy who hates joy. Untrue! For instance, today’s Shoe provided me with the image of a group of elderly bird-people gleefully dipping their heads into a giant vat of applesauce, and I’m grinning as goofily thinking about it as Biz is.

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Archie, 4/26/16

I normally only mention the anonymous toilers who add color to the daily strips when they egregiously screw up, so let’s give big props to whoever had the job of dealing with today’s Archie. Not only did they notice the severed foot laying casually atop the debris that Jughead has layered on his floor to block his parents’ access to his room/slaughter chamber, but they chose the perfect off-pink color to represent human flesh that’s just begun to putrefy.

Shoe, 4/26/16

The city of Treetops consists of habitations scattered across the tops of trees, as the name and also just about every Shoe strip published in the last 39 years demonstrate. Rubber comes from trees, and Treetops is inhabited entirely by bird-people. Thus, this is a news item about a rapacious corporation that is going to stop destroying the townsfolk’s homes and will now move on to literally extracting profits from their bodies.

Mark Trail, 4/26/16

Mark and his fellow cave-captives have spent the last week wandering around this cavern marveling at the miracles of nature that created these gorgeous, enormous crystals. Today they figure they should get a mining corporation in here and make a quick buck. Everybody needs sheetrock!

Pluggers, 4/26/16

OH MY GOD

PLUGGER LINGERE IS ADULT DIAPERS

BECAUSE PLUGGERS DON’T DRESS SEXILY, AND ALSO ARE INCONTINENT

IF I HAD TRIED TO COME UP WITH A VICIOUSLY CRUEL PARODY OF PLUGGERS, I NEVER WOULD HAVE COME CLOSE TO THIS

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Shoe, 3/22/16

I’m not a fan of either playing or watching golf, but after reading this article, I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that what most people think of the particular artificial landscape created for golf courses is actually an attempt to reproduce the natural environment of coastal Scotland where the game was invented in the 1400s. You can see another strange echo of the now worldwide game’s connection to a particular place in today’s Shoe, in which a bird-woman is wearing a tam o’shanter. This is, I suppose, to provide a setup for the feint that produces the strip’s punchline. Did she purchase this faintly absurd hat, which Americans probably primarily think of as a goofy thing you wear ironically while playing golf, as a part of her decision to try to share her husband’s passion for the game? No. Her marriage is a nightmare nest of suspicions and deceit, but the hat is unrelated to any of that, and we’ll probably never know why she’s wearing it. Its inherent whimsy now merely serves as a sad counterpoint to the bird-woman’s depressing home life.

Dennis the Menace, 3/22/16

To maintain some poor soul in a rapidly decaying flesh-prison, to create a ghastly living portrait of Dorian Gray, in order to grant yourself an ageless existence as a sinister, eternal child — I would be hard pressed to imagine something more menacing than that. “Please, you’ve got to believe me!” Mr. Wilson gasps, smelling the stench of decay arising from his own flesh. “I’ve been bewitched by his foul magic! I’m only 35 years old!”

Plugger, 3/22/16

You’re a plugger if the only thing in your sad, plodding existence that can inspire you to muster up any sense of occasion or formality is when someone dies.