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Slylock Fox, 11/20/06

There are some puzzling narrative decisions going on in this Slylock Fox. Apparently the artist has tired of actually drawing the mystery scenarios and has decided to settle for the thrilling visual spectacle of Slylock reading a word problem to a group of schoolchildren. Still, I’m so God-damned trained by this feature that I keep staring at the clock on the wall, thinking that the fact that it’s ten after nine is an important clue of some sort.

Perhaps once he’s assessed their fitness for detective work, he can explain how you can make a living from butting into other people’s disputes and solving them with elementary deduction. Max Mouse, meanwhile, is just courting death. It’s bad enough that Slylock brought the tiny rodent into a class full of predator animals, but Max’s inability to keep away from the teacher’s apple should by all rights get him devoured before recess.

Judge Parker, 11/20/06

As Raju heads off into the boat-wrestling sunset, I hope that we get lots and lots more Celeste Black to fill the void. I’m loving her swoopy arm gestures in the first panel here; presumably she’s performing an interpretive dance piece entitled “Jesus Christ I’m so hung over WHY ARE THE LIGHTS ON SO FUCKING BRIGHT IN HERE I hate you all”.

Archie, 11/20/06

Archie is, of course, a moron, but the setup for this joke was so convoluted that it’s hard to blame him for his poster verbiage faux pas. I’m more concerned about the fact that this placard was created in an art class, and yet is essentially just a bunch of words on a big piece of paper. The curved line at the bottom doesn’t make it “art,” and “Mr. Weatherbee” isn’t even centered properly. Pretty sloppy, Andrews.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/20/06

Sorry I couldn’t work up the energy to cover last week’s Rex Morgan, during most of which June was holding our mop-haired purse-snatcher at broompoint. If you only follow this strip through my commentary on it, you should know that we learned a few things last week about our cast of characters. We found out that Nikki and his trashy mom are Katrina-driven evacuees from New Orleans, forced to live in the slums of Rex Morganville because George Bush doesn’t care about white people. We also learned that if you take June’s purse she will never let you forget about it.

There’s some problematic punctuation going on in our omniscient narrative box at the upper left. No sentence in which the main verb is modified by the word “reluctantly” should ever end in an exclamation mark.

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For Better Or For Worse, 11/13/06

OK, so maybe this final panel doesn’t mean what we all think it means. Maybe it’s been punctuated wrong. Maybe Elizabeth means, “You’ve changed so much? I don’t believe it. I think you’re the same whiny, passive-aggressive, schlubby, boring, dull, soul-crushingly dull, boring, boring, boring, dull, annoying, whiny…”

Oh, who the hell am I fooling. TRUE LOVE CANNOT BE STOPPED.

Mary Worth, 11/13/06

Aw, see, Mary? She’s just as scared of you as you are of her! It’s like it is with bears! And speaking of bears…

Mark Trail, 11/13/06

Huh, some of that dialogue seems awful familiar … almost as if I’d heard it before somewhere else. But where could that have been?

Mark Trail, 11/11/06

God damn it, Mark Trail, don’t you move slowly enough without, you know, just repeating the same damn dialogue over two strips? At least Jake and Snake have swapped lines in what’s suddenly become some kind of low-rent, heavily armed Waiting for Godot. The giant rabbit has fled, presumably out of boredom.

I do have to admit that if I were in the process of being kidnapped by mulleted cabin-dwelling bearnappers, I would be profoundly uncomfortable to learn that my fate would be determined “back at the cave.”

Slylock Fox, 11/13/06

I’m not resentful that I spent five minutes staring at Slick Smitty’s coat, trying to figure out if the fact that he was wearing a suit and had rolled up his sleeves was a clue about the origin of his latest flight; nor do I begrudge the fact that the crucial clue to this puzzle is Smitty’s watch, which is completely illegible. Rather, I take umbrage on behalf of our broad-tailed, buck-toothed friend. Why is he just “the beaver”? Why doesn’t he get a patented Slylock Fox clever name, like “Bobby Beaver” or “Buford Beaver” or maybe even “Castor?” Instead it’s just “the beaver,” like they’re all alike, like their individuality doesn’t matter. This strip is racist.

Family Circus, 11/13/06

Translation: “When I grow up, I’m going to move as far away from the rest of you losers as the science of the age will allow.”

Marvin, 11/13/06

Wow, Marvin sure isn’t afraid to disparage Italians. Good thing none of them live in Indiana, right? Right? What? Uh oh.

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Heart of the City and Get Fuzzy, 11/6/06

There’s been a bit of back-and-forth in the comments today about the latest Mallard Fillmore, and exactly who and who not is being urged not to vote by America’s favorite only talking Republican journalist duck. While things have remained civil enough to avoid banishment to the Cockpit (and let’s keep it that way, shall we?), I’m surprised nobody mentioned these two strips, in which children and animals are urged to vote. I think that Satchel might be Canadian, even. The fact that he’s a Green supporter should probably come as surprise to no-one.

Beetle Bailey, 11/6/06

Meanwhile, Beetle Bailey is just totally insane and such. I’m going back and forth on whether this is a genuine hallucinogenic product of a deranged mind or an attempt at forced whimsy that has resulted from all the elevated prose extolling Duck Amuck. On the one hand, the little cutsie waterfowl outfits (look, a little girl! a cowboy! a millionaire!) are a bit too precious and calculated; but the phrase “invaded my dream” creeps me out, and the weird circle-with-a-line beaks of the father/son ducks in panel one and richie rich duck in panel two are just not right at all, and are in themselves fertile nightmare fuel.

Slylock Fox, 11/6/06

Also today, the little Goat kids (see what I just did there?) are being made accustomed to the nightmarish police state that awaits them as adults. “Say, someone ate the cookies? Let’s call in CSI: Genus Vulpes and subject you three to a full-on interrogation until someone confesses!”

At least Slylock uses the power of deductive reasoning to determine the culprits, rather than just going at them with a rubber hose right off the bat. I love the look on the face of bowler-wearing-sidekick-mouse-whose-name-I-forget. He has no real crime-fighting abilities or interest; he’s just happy to be there, drinking coffee out of a mug the size of his head.

Mark Trail, 11/6/06

I’m beginning to think that Molly, the pet bear, isn’t particularly bright.

Hey, everybody! Kelly Welly and Ranger Rick have suddenly re-entered this story after — what is it, three months now? What do you suppose they’ve been up to? Never mind, I think we all know what they’ve been doing.

Mary Worth, 11/6/06

Look at the way Mary grits her teeth in that last panel. I have a feeling that Ella’s casserole is going to be made up mostly of broken glass, fiberglass insulation, and bleach.