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Marvin, 3/5/12

Today’s Marvin actually raises some interesting philosophical questions! What does Marvin’s mom mean exactly when she says her child is “old enough to know better”? From panel one, it’s clear that he’s reached the point in his cognitive development where he’s capable of constructing rudimentary tools to get what he wants; does she believe that the ability to control one’s environment ought to coincide with an understanding of how such control might conflict with the prevailing ethical system? That might be theoretically elegant, but perhaps she’s encountering a sociobiological counterpoint to that argument, in which our inbuilt desires run wildly ahead of the layer of civilizing rules we’ve created to try to restrain them, and the only recourse is punishment. Getting old does stink, Marvin, as it means learning to say no to the fun things we’ve just learned how to do, to keep total chaos at bay.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/5/12

Rex is trying to short-circuit this whole storyline and skip ahead to the part where he gets to stop caring about everything. “Too bad we don’t know any screenwriters! And really, where would we even find such people? They’re like reclusive monks, toiling away in secret. Best to drop the whole thing. Say, this is some pretty delicious yogurt!”

Gil Thorp, 3/5/12

Since Gil benched one of his star players to make a point about mild tattoo-related shenanigans (that point being “Gil doesn’t like your cultural practices, young people”), the Mudlarks have lost their first chance at a championship in years. I like the third panel because it demonstrates that some kids buy Gil’s inspirational bullshit and some don’t. Blond kid on right: “He’s right! I can feel my character being built by this heartbreaking, unnecessary defeat!” Dark-haired kid on left: “Enh, no, I still would have rather won the game. Think I’ll go get some tattoos that reflect my new grim worldview.”

Six Chix, 3/5/12

So these ladies are supposed to be … lady mobsters? That’s what their outfits are meant to convey to us? And they’ve murdered someone, for tweeting? But that — oh, look at the time, I’ve spent far too long contemplating this Six Chix, now I think I’ll go do anything else.

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Ziggy, 2/28/12

That’s true, Ziggy! It’s also true that sometimes that door is an inky black portal radiating evil so powerful that it somehow, incomprehensibly, casts a shadow, and that it doesn’t lead to opportunity so much as to an awful hell-dimension full of soul-devouring demons. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Pluggers, 2/28/12

Pluggers know that if things really get bad, well, old Jed down at the pawn shop has a pair of pliers, and a few hours of pain should pay the rent for another month or two.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 2/28/12

Did you know that “druthers,” as in “If I had my druthers, the characters in Barney Google and Snuffy Smith would keep their tongues in their mouths instead of letting them flap about obscenely,” is actually a contraction of “I’d rather”? It’s true! Today’s Snuffy Smith sent me on an etymological voyage of discovery, which is a sentence that I’m pretty sure has never been written before and will never be written again.

Six Chix, 2/28/12

Aw, that bluebird looks awfully sad! Probably because the squirrel has just told it, in so many words, that it’s going to starve to death.

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Hagar the Horrible, 2/24/12

It’s sad, but true: If you’re living on the windswept edge of a Norwegian fjord somewhere towards the tail end of the Viking age, a one-room hovel with a thatched roof surrounded by grass poking out of the nutrient-poor soil really does represent “do[ing] rather well for yourself.” At least you don’t live in a mud hut that melts every time it rains! At least you’re not a slave! Still, I’m a little put off by the sign, since Hagar is a known illiterate. But I guess it doesn’t really matter, since most everyone else around is illiterate too! Maybe he forced some terrified monk kidnapped from Lindisfarne to write it for him, just for the status of having writing on his property.

Six Chix, 2/24/12

Meanwhile, over in Six Chix, someone’s been murdered by a comically oversized shoe, apparently! I, uh, have no real way of dealing with this. Enjoy your weekend, everybody!