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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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Gil Thorp, 10/29/07

Uh-oh! In a totally shocking unforeseeable development, it seems that vaguely repentant “accidental” murderer Cully Vale is falling in with a bad crowd! That Mitch “found” that money in some old lady’s purse is obvious not least because he appears to be an Eisenhower-era greaser hood of some sort. Meanwhile in panel two Boyd Henry’s Chameleon Device briefly hit some kind of glitch, revealing his black, alien eyes. What sinister plan does this disguised extraterrestrial have for Cully, and for humanity? Only time will tell!

Cully is too dumb recognize any of the warning signs, obviously. He’s not even very in touch with the way his own body works. “Hmm, discomfort in my tummy … what could make grumbling go away? Food? Sure, food sounds great! I’ll try this ‘food’ of which you speak!”

Mark Trail, 10/29/07

Most of the comics are starting in on their Halloween stories this week, but none have offered a vision as terrifying as Johnny Malotte’s litter of spawn and their eager, smiling faces. It’s frankly a wonder that Mom can even sit up straight after pumping out this brood. I’m guessing the visiting businessmen will find this group of hillbilly Von Trapps more unsettling than enjoyable.

And yes, Johnny has facial hair, but he’s an “old friend” of Mark’s, so he gets some kind of pass. Based on his Captain Renault-style mustache and vaguely Frenchy last name, I’m going imagine him as a comical Quebecois outdoorsman for really no good reason.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 10/29/07

I’ll never forget the day I first visited my Great-Aunt Ruth and Great-Uncle Stan in their retirement community in the high desert about an hour outside of L.A. I was fourteen or fifteen at the time, and while I intellectually understood why they found the golf course directly adjacent to their backyard appealing, I was more impressed by the constant round of barbecues and cocktail parties — any time of day, any day of the week — that their lives had become. I quickly understood why everyone got around the streets of their little subdivision on golf carts and the speed limit was 15 miles per hour: because pretty much everyone had a buzz on all the time. Ever since that day, I’ve had one goal in mind: to retire in style. Thank you, TDIET, for reminding me to keep my eye on the ball.

Judge Parker, 10/29/07

*SPUT* *BLUB* DO NOT TELL ME THAT THIS IS HOW THIS STORY HAS BEEN RESOLVED. IT DOES NOT WORK THAT WAY.

Sam is wearing his sunglasses to bring Extra Dickishness Action to this little conversation.

Hi and Lois, 10/29/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because Hi and Lois are bankrupt!

Lockhorns, 10/29/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because something pop-culture-related Loretta can’t cook!

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Judge Parker, 10/26/07

Woo! At long last, something exciting is happening in Judge Parker! Exciting and … completely nonsensical, but what the hell. I’m pretty sure that the reason I haven’t been able to follow the business and legal machinations of this plot is because they’re complete twaddle, as is Rusty Duncan’s incomprehensible Sam-lust. You might as well get all hot and bothered (and stupidly risk your high-powered lawyer career) over a particularly handsome slab of wood for all the satisfaction you’ll get out of it. One hopes that this isn’t a tiresome “lady professionals lose their mind over a hot hunky man” plot but rather part of some wheels-within-wheels intrigue, with hidden cameras ready to put this cute little scene all over the Internet. The handkerchief is there to collect a bit of Sam’s blood that will spurt from the gashes she’s about to tear in his ear; this will be useful for later DNA testing to prove that the photos depict her kissing the real Sam and not a life-sized Sam mannequin (since it would obviously be hard to tell otherwise).

Mary Worth, 10/26/07

I guess Vera’s line about “see[ing] the stars at night” is supposed to be some kind of reference to their first starlit make-out session,” but it’s pretty much impossible to interpret it as anything other than “Drew brought me to levels of physical pleasure that Von could never reach.” And maybe it’s me, but I really don’t think you should be talking to Mary Worth about the quality and quantity of your orgasms. It just seems wrong.

Archie, 10/26/07

Not that I’m a big expert on the minutiae of Archie characters’ inner lives or anything, but in my experience the Coach Kleats mainly doesn’t express any emotion other than numb-eyed acceptance of the wackiness and incompetence surrounding him. Thus, his Bob Knight-style tirade at a reporter’s legitimate (if ludicrously vague) question is kind of surprising. Presumably he’s desperately trying to prevent the press (and the readers) from noticing whatever it is number 7 is about to do to number 11 in the first panel.

Gil Thorp, 10/26/07

Typically, Milford teams are good enough to make the playdowns (AND YES THEY CALL THEM “PLAYDOWNS” IN GIL THORP DON’T ASK ME WHY ALL RIGHT?), but then inevitably flop in the first or second round. It’s good to see this year’s football squad breaking that mold by descending into total incompetence. Pretty soon a desperate and/or bored Gil will put in the team’s fourth-string quarterback: the kid with one leg. The only sad part is that Marty Moon is apparently too drunk or not drunk enough to launch into the “Fire Gil” campaign that he usually gets rolling at the first sign of trouble in the Milford Athletic department.

Panel one makes it clear that Coach Kaz is still battling his troubling addiction to cosmetic surgery.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 10/26/07

CEO J.P. Honcho testifies in Congress against stricter environmental laws:

“Increased regulations make American factories uncompetitive … not needed … voluntary improvements are the way … our plants are perfectly safe … clean-burning fuel … wouldn’t hurt a fly …”

So when he builds his sprawling mansion with his eight-digit bonus check, does he put it downwind from his own factory? Oh, dear reader, need you ask?

“Somethin’ about the country air … so fresh and clean … sure it’s far from the plant, but it’s worth it for the ol’ lung-quality … ahhhh …”