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Heathcliff, 5/27/13

The best thing about this Heathcliff is that it almost isn’t creepy. Like, we could just take it at what I’m pretty sure is meant to be face value: that Heathcliff celebrates the beginning of hot grilling seasons by getting up on the roof and throwing a bunch of hot dog buns into the air. (Side note: Do some people say “hot dog buns” and others “hot dog rolls”? Is it a regional thing? Am I weird for thinking “rolls” sounds off?) That would be … well, weird, but not unsettling. But in fact it doesn’t look like Heathcliff has thrown them at all. His arms are barely extended, certainly not enough to explain how far up the hot dog buns are. No, it looks like he really did release them, and they’re flying. They’re alive. The bread flapping like wings. Rustling. Raining crumbs down below. They’re free. They’re free. They’re free. Heathcliff stands, arms extended. The hot dog buns swoop and dive and trill their little song to each other. Grilling season …. has begun.

Slylock Fox, 5/27/13

I’m not even going to get into the extremely dubious physics behind the solution to today’s puzzle because I can’t stop thinking about who drove that car into the water. Because somebody’s dead, right? That playful octopus pushed aside the bloated corpse of Harry Ape or Buford Bull or some other nefarious land-beast, or maybe the octopus is on top of the drowned evil-doer, just draping his tentacles all over the poor guy’s stiffened limbs. And let’s not even talk about the fact that Slylock knew all about this, used his ratiocination to get to the beach before the robber even did, probably watched the car go into the water, watched it sink under. “Let’s take a leisurely walk up the road and get some scuba equipment, Max,” he said. “Things ought to be nice and safe for us down there in about, say, an hour.”

Mark Trail 5/27/13

Guys I … I don’t think Cherry knows where her shoulder is

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Action a-plenty in the midweek comics — let’s dive right in!

Judge Parker, 5/15/13

Ho ho, quite the little geopolitical economist our Sophie, eh? Here the economy of Niger is portrayed as a giant Ponzi scheme, substituting modern easy-to-trade firearms for old-timey low-liquidity postal reply coupons. Next step is to formalize it as a multi-level marketing enterprise, recruiting unclaimed hostages as kidnappers to build the downline and create a never-ending upward spiral of guns, hostages, and ransom money. Then fire up the sales team by giving everybody a logo t-shirt with the slogan: “Guns go ‘POW’ — ask me how!”

Spider-Man, 5/15/13

Hey Spider-Man! Take a tip from lawyer Matt Murdoch on the first rule of questioning a witness: “Don’t ask a question if you won’t like the answer.”

Mark Trail, 5/15/13

Oops.

Slylock Fox, 5/15/13

Pluggers, Jr. meets The Daily Jumble. As a plugger himself, dog-man is merely alarmed by his neighbors’ atrocious table manners. Out-of-town visitor parrot-man, on the other hand, is downright disgusted. Guy looks like he’s ready to KORF his ROPTAR all AELTP the RNCO — and that NIKAPN ain’t gonna help much.

Dennis the Menace, 5/15/13

OK, is it me, is it cartoonists, or is the Bad Girl really always the hottest in the room? And we’re talking about a room shared with Alice Mitchell, so SRSLY! Dennis, cut the crap and pay some attention here — you won’t be 5 forever.

Oh, ha ha — I forgot. You will be 5 forever. Kindly resume the crap.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/15/13

Payback time at the Morgans’. I hope Sarah has more success with her little project than June had with Rex.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Apartment 3-G, 5/13/13

Oh, look — the Apartment 3-G creative team is taking a tax-deductible “research” trip to Italy! Oops, I mean — Tommie’s mom is coming back!

You know, for the longest time after A3G debuted in 1961, moms were thin on the ground. Perhaps the proto-moms of that bygone day disapproved of their single daughters living independent lives in the big city (like WHORES). But let a mere half-century flit by and suddenly the joint is crawling with moms: Margo’s eccentric ethnic fortune-telling and/or stuffy whitebread matriarch bio-mom Gabriella, her murderous lunatic stepmom Bobbie, Lu Ann’s colorful Texas bio-mom “Aunt” Ruby and her disdainful rancher stepmother, and now Tommie’s homebody drudge-mom. (Unlike her roommates, Tommie has never been adopted, because duh.)

Watch for Thompson mère et fille to scour Italy for the familiar comforts of home, trudging from McDonald’s to Starbucks to Holiday Inn: “You call this ‘coffee’? Everything here is so old! Forty kinds of pizza and no Chicago-style? What is that, another church? What do you mean, you don’t have meatballs? That statue is buck naked — right out in public! Where’s the ketchup? Why don’t they just speak English? This is nothing like the Bellagio! Well don’t call it a ‘piazza’ if you don’t have anything to eat!”

Marvin, 5/13/13

Marvin disgusts himself, bringing the total to … EVERYBODY.

Slylock Fox, 5/13/13

Slylock — a crack prosecutor as well as detective — always goes the extra mile to keep his indictments entertaining and educational as well as utterly damning to the accused. Look at how engrossed Mr. Turtle is in the fascinating account that will soon cost him his freedom: “Wow, I never knew reptiles like me can’t get fevers — you learn such interesting things in court! I wonder how I came up with that fever story, anyway, if I’ve never had one? Well, there was that one time I scratched myself on the plastic palm tree in my habitat and my shell got all inflamed. I felt really hot and stayed in bed for days! That was when, exactly — late March or something? Hey, do you suppose my lawyer could use that somehow during cross-examination? Where is my lawyer, anyhow? Wait, my lawyer is Max Mouse? I didn’t know defense attorneys could work for the prosecution — that’s two new things I’ve learned today — I’m sure glad I came!”

Mark Trail, 5/13/13

Gah, how much stuff do these people take “camping”? I realize they flew in by seaplane and Shelley likes her comforts and all, but here we’ve got full beds with mattresses and pillows, a cookstove with a 20-pound propane tank, not to mention table, chairs, canopy, rods, waders, and creels, plus Mark’s no-doubt impressive armory. And look at the size of that tent — I bet you could bowl in there.

Thank goodness Shelley and Cherry found room to pack their matching tailored Bettie Page loungewear, adding a note of retro luxury to the idea of “roughing it.” Anyway, as soon as all the baggage and trees burn up in the coming forest fire, it will be refreshing to see Shelley save the day with a quick call to the rangers from her much-maligned cell phone. After their ordeal, none of our adventurers will stray beyond two bars of reception ever again. It will make a GOOD story!

— Uncle Lumpy