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Panel from Slylock Fox, 7/7/13

There are many mysteries about the process by which our own, human-dominated world became the Slylock-era planet ruled by animals of various degrees of sentience, living it up in the ruins of our civilization, with a few scattered remnants of Homo sapiens surviving here and there. One of the more minor ones is this: why is Count Weirdly, supposed human, green? Ironically, all we learn today is what isn’t the cause of his odd coloring: Weirdly’s grandiose claims of expert genetic engineering turning him into a human-plant hybrid turn out to be nonsense. But the very fact that the claims were made just raises more questions. For instance, would having some non-human DNA boost Weirdly’s status in this post-human hellscape? And, given that we know that genetic experimentation is forbidden by law, how shocking or embarrassing is the real reason, to prompt Weirdly to make these dangerous claims? Is it just body paint? Did he just start painting himself green in a moment of madness, and now he feels like he needs some higher-tech explanation, to protect his reputation? You shouldn’t be embarrassed by body paint, Count. Your antagonist is a fox wearing pants.

Crankshaft, 7/7/13

In today’s Crankshaft, one of the main characters experiences a brief, fleeting moment of happiness before being subsumed by a crushing wave of anxiety. I guess we’re meant to feel good about this, though, because in panel two Pam looks unbearably smug, presumably in a narrative bid to make the audience clamor for retribution for her hubris.

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Slylock Fox, 6/3/13

Ha ha yes blah blah blah geography facts it’s the Pacific not the Atlantic very good, Slylock Fox, now let’s get at what’s really happening in today’s puzzle. Weirdly, self-appointed Count, green-skinned and twisted and one of the last remaining inhabitants of Earth that we might recognize as “human”, has an illegal island lab (forbidden by what legislation? Does Slylock even know the sources of the law code he so ruthlessly enforces?) where he dabbles in genetic experiments. Experiments that might explain a little something about the strange menagerie of creatures ruling the crumbling cities where human beings once lived. Experiments that might transform a species of smallish and clever but nonsentient canids into bipeds capable of ratiocination and operating an airplane and distinguishing between — well, if not between right and wrong, then between what is permitted and what is forbidden. Assuming that Slylock’s enhanced intelligence gives him the skills to somehow land a jet plane on a tiny island with no airstrip, the worst that’s in store for Weirdly is that he’ll be hauled before an animal-run judiciary and thrown in an animal-guarded cell. Slylock, meanwhile, will find out some harrowing details about himself, about where he came from, about his relationship to his Creator. Somewhere in the endless levels of blood-stained cement-walled corridors below that island, there is a cage, and inside that cage is a fox, a fox that doesn’t wear a deerstalker or walk on two legs or solve crimes. It just skitters back and forth in its little prison, eating pellets and drinking water from its automatically refilled bottle and hissing at whoever comes into the room. Will their eyes lock when Slylock finally enters this chamber? Will they both finally understand what has happened, the one with only dim animal instincts, the other with terrible clarity?

Apartment 3-G, 6/3/13

Never mind whatever’s happening with Marty and her dad. Let’s all give a big hand to Doris, who received a Laurel of Merit at the Purple Olympics!

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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