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Luann, 9/23/13

Congratulations, Luann: for the first time in years, you have caused me to feel actual empathy for your title character! I worked in libraries for much of my high school and college career, and I always enjoyed those gigs and saw them as a haven from the stressful food service jobs taken by many of my peers. I sure would’ve been upset if I had lost that job because of budget cuts, and particularly upset if I had lost that job because the library decided to spend money hiring H.R. Giger to design ever more elaborately phallic Billy the Bookworm costumes.

Shoe, 9/23/13

Usually when you see liver on a menu you’re being offered some kind of bird liver, right? What I’m saying is that this is another instance where Shoe’s goggle eyes of horror are wholly justified. “What am I, chopped liver? No, seriously! Am I to be this lunchtime’s sacrifice, my gut slit open and my organs chopped to bits and cooked for the culinary delight of my fellow bird-men? Has the day when I become chopped liver finally arrived?”

Hi and Lois, 9/23/13

I’ve seen few things in the comics more harrowing than Trixie’s expression in panel two. Her hands folded in her lap are a nice touch. Pretty sure she’s been sitting there, staring at that leaf, rolling the concept of mortality around in her mind, for several hours now.

Mary Worth, 9/23/13

“Hi Mary … it’s Wilbur! How are you? Are you making a sandwich? Are you making one right now? MY SANDWICH SENSE IS TINGLING”

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Mark Trail, 9/15/13

Did this little plant get its name from the past? That may be the case. It’s possible, sure. But isn’t it just as possible that it got its name from the future? After all, the Indian Pipe bears a strong resemblance to the 60-mile-high towers that were built in the southern foothills of the Himalayas in the late 21st century, which harvested charged particles from the ionosphere and provided the cheap energy that catapulted India’s economy to #1 in the world by 2110. Add in the successful time travel experiments conducted at the Indian Institute of Technology in the mid 2090s, and this theory is sounding more and more probable.

Family Circus, 9/15/13

Today’s Family Circus is a commentary on modern American affluence: the Keane Kids have never once in their lives had empty bellies, and can’t even conceive of anyone going hungry involuntarily, thus forcing them to recontextualize the ancient nursery rhyme. But there’s one Keane family member who knows all about want, and that’s Sam the dog. Presumably Sam’s care has been placed in the hands of the children, in an misguided attempt to teach them “responsibility,” and meals have been pretty irregular ever since. Sam would chew off all of PJ’s toes without a second thought. Sam would eat all the Keane Kids, if they would just hold still for long enough.

Shoe, 9/15/13

The comics pages that Skyler is so ostentatiously reading add a real note of poignancy to this strip. Skyler is trapped in comics time, an eternal present. He’s never going to get past the opening salvos of the sexual awakening he’s experiencing right now; and, as long as the syndicate can find artists who can more or less approximate Jeff MacNelly’s style, he will never die.

Panel from Better Half, 9/15/13

HERE IT IS EVERYBODY, THE MOST DEPRESSING BETTER HALF EVER, LET’S JUST GO HAVE A NICE LIE DOWN NOW FOR THE REST OF THE DAY

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Mark Trail, 9/3/13

Oh, man, this Mark Trail plotline is just getting started — it involves a mysteriously dead elk Mark found on Lost Forest property — and already there’s punching! Panel two is a true classic of the Trailian punching genre, with hat and gun flying in opposite directions as Mark interprets “turn around, mister … slowly” as “turn around mister … very quickly and then punch me in the face as hard as you can.” I guess it’s a little bit awkward that Mark ended up punching his friend Dusty, but that’s just the price you pay when you punch first and verify identities later! Everyone’s all smiles and there appears to be no permanent harm done, unless that parabola emanating from Dusty’s mouth in panel two is meant to be a trail of spittle following behind a dislodged tooth, which it almost certainly is.

Shoe, 9/3/13

I grudgingly respect the fact that Shoe follows the logic of at least one aspect of a society of bird-men to its logical conclusion and has a bird that feasts on the dead as the town undertaker. I do wonder how many casual Shoe readers know that Mort is a mortician-bird-man, which I’m pretty sure is a key piece of information for this joke. Not that it makes much sense anyway? Ha ha, did you enjoy your time at the opera … in a coffin? Because you’re a mortician-bird-man, and opera is a dying genre? Eh? Eh? Death?

Momma, 9/3/13

Well, it looks like I was right yesterday, and we are going to get a multi-day plot in Momma, a strip that never, ever does multi-day plots. So since we’re going into uncharted territory, I guess why not take a head-first leap into howling madness, with MaryLou walking up the aisle of an airplane, shoving big steaming spoonfuls of glop into the mouths of the weirdly compliant and passive passengers? I look forward to further airborne insanity over the rest of the week!