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Family Circus, 11/12/07

Christ almighty, what is the deal with the Keane kids and their asses? Someone needs to explain to little Jeffy the basics of literal and metaphorical human anatomy, pronto, before he starts complaining about a “broken heart,” “offering up his heart” to his first love, “wearing his heart on his sleeve,” and other scenarios that don’t even bear thinking about it.

When I first saw this cartoon, I thought Jeffy and his mom were looking out the window, and that a spontaneous act of Veterans Day (Observed) flag approbation was going on in their front yard. This could have made Jeffy not just stupid but dangerously stupid, as the gathered vets might have thought that he was bringing shame to the flag with his ass-clutching and decided to beat him up. This of course would have been hilarious, especially if some of the really old guys had taken the lead (imagine him being held down by a couple of 73-year-old Korean War vets while an 84-year-old comes at him with the same bayonet he used at Guadalcanal). However, since they’re actually watching the Patriotism Channel on their enormous flat-screen TV, Jeffy is only shaming his household, which is nothing new.

Slylock Fox, 11/12/07

The sight of Slylock dickering with some kind of smallish mammalian taxi driver (a monkey, maybe?) over cab fare while the as-usual moronic bunnies stare on dumbly is probably the funniest thing I’ve seen today. I would say that the taxi driver’s sudden attack of deafness is less “a mystery to be solved” and more “the driver being kind of a dick.” On the other hand, maybe there’s some history here that we’re not privy to. (“How did Murray Monkey know that he should give Slylock the incorrect change? Solution — Because the cheap bastard never tipped on any of his previous trips to the airport, and his picture is taped to the dashboard of every cab in town.”)

I know that Max is clambering into the trunk to get out the comparatively enormous suitcase because he can’t actually reach it from the curb, but I’d like to imagine that Slylock and/or the driver actually made him ride back there for the entire way. “Sorry, Max, no rodents in the car!”

They’ll Do It Every Time, 11/12/07

Who’ll do it every time? Why, Comics Curmudgeon readers, of course! “Donna Normington” is really none other than our own Mountain Momma. I have to say that I’m impressed by her limber nature — I don’t think I could ring the doorbell with my foot while carrying two bags full of groceries! And I hope her hubby appreciates his buck-toothed caricature.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/12/07

Whoa, check out those tiger-striped suspenders on Lem! Hot. HOTT. This is what happens when the International Male catalog starts delivering to Hootin’ Holler.

And finally, I leave you with a stunning find from faithful reader Jym. In his own words:

On October 10, 1987, I encountered what I recognized as the Rosetta Stone of Mark Trail strips. A young motorcycle hooligan had disrupted a teen-themed outdoor adventure with his infernal racket, but we got some inkling that he maybe wasn’t all bad. This strip showed us exactly what he needed to do to reveal himself as a worthy citizen.

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In honor of Cassandra Cat’s recent appearance, I thought I’d share a couple lovely pics of that extra-special Bob Weber, Jr.-designed Cassandra Cat merchandise. First up is three-month-old Emma Parsnip, daughter of faithful reader Frank:

But despite what this and other merchandise pics might imply, Cassandra Cat-themed clothing is not just for infants! Adults can wear it too, as faithful reader littlefox demonstrates:

Make like these two and get Cassandra Cat stuff of your very own!

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Slylock Fox, 10/14/07

Hey, everybody! Cassandra’s back! She’s dressed sexily but still fairly demurely in her pedal-pushers and sensible sandals (though of course you can buy a t-shirt with her in a much groovier get-up). Today’s Cassie adventure reveals only the depth of Slylock’s total obsession with her. The poor cat’s barely gotten to the point of filling out her police report paperwork and the Fox has already broken and entered into her place, no doubt predisposed to ignore her plea to help. He probably moved the dust around just to spite her. And the “bad housekeeping” jibe is just cruel. She’s a sexy cat about town with a full social calendar, detective. Just because you have tons of free time to dust your place while fantasizing about gorgeous she-felines that no jail can hold doesn’t mean her life is snoresville.

Anyway, I hope that kids read this and learn how to perpetrate a successful insurance fraud. I also hope Max is enjoying his time staring at Cassandra’s ass.

Apartment 3-G, 10/14/07

Oh my God, Tommie made a funny! Mark your calendars, everybody!

I’m pretty much in love with everything about this strip, even though exactly nothing happens in it. I love Tommie’s little joke, I love the fact that Lu Ann and Tommie are fully dressed while Margo is just crawling out of bed (it’s probably 3:30 in the afternoon), I love the forceful period, a tiny black singularity of disgruntlement, at the end of Margo’s “fine” in panel six. I also love how damn happy Lu Ann is. She apparently is no longer concerned about her brain damage and resulting memory loss, although it’s possible she’s already forgotten about it. Based on her outfit, she’s also forgotten that she’s a big old prude as well.

Family Circus, 10/14/07

The self-referential causality loop that this strip is locked into is already a bit of a mind-bender, but what really pushes it over the edge is the little signature conversation at the bottom right. Daddy and Jeffy are having a nice little condescending put-down of moronic big brother Billy (who’s based on respected Disney animator Glen Keane). And then they use his joke anyway, while still pointing out that it sucks. It’s philosophical and dysfunctional all at once!

Spider-Man, 10/14/07

The world of journalism was shocked when Peter Parker, a virtually unknown freelancer, won the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography for his “The Other America” series. But nobody who saw those photographs of the people standing in line to receive their unemployment insurance checks doubted that he deserved it. The range of expressions in the photographs — running the gamut from hopefulness to grim determination to despair to fear — was captured tenderly in what one critic called “an emotional tour de force.” So why, when Parker got on stage to accept his award, did he conclude his short speech by thanking J. Jonah Jameson? The pictures hadn’t run in the Bugle. Nobody at the awards dinner could understand it, though those sitting near the flamboyant flat-topped editor reported that he bit down particularly hard on his unlit cigar when Parker said it.

Crankshaft, 10/14/07

Hey, look, it’s Crankshaft’s ass! That’s what America wanted more of, apparently. Who knew?