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Mary Worth, 3/12/07

So Mary Worth’s storyline seems to have finally given up, and I say good riddance. It could never really figure out what it was supposed to be about — fortune telling and condo association rules? Agent Orange? a battle for biddy supremacy? Mary’s latent guilt? Mary’s latent love for Jeff? tuna casserole? As Ella drives off, presumably to her death, we can only hope that more interesting things, or at least more coherent things, are in the cards.

And call me a hopeless optimist, but I’m guessing they are! “Hi there! I’m Gropy McGrabass, and I’m an up-and-comer here at Creepy Lack Of Affect Advertising Agency! You must be the new person here, right? I bet you haven’t had your sexual harassment seminar yet! It’s a load of bullcrap, trust me! Hey, mind if I rest my hand on your rear end for the next three to six months?”

Non Sequitur, 3/12/07

Well, I live in Baltimore, actually, but it’s true that I’m not afraid to point out blatant payola wherever I may find it. So don’t try to silence me, oppressive gears of international capitalism, and don’t try to buy me off!

Wait, did I say “don’t try to buy me off”? I meant “do.” Really! Do!

It sounds like an urban legend, but it’s an absolutely true story: One of my wife’s co-workers had a baby a few years ago, and when she (my wife) was visiting her (her co-worker) at the hospital, another proud mom in the maternity ward reported that her husband needed to figure out how to spell their new daughter’s name, so he had just run over to the liquor store to copy it down from a bottle of Courvoisier. Because everyone should be named after whatever substance contributed most directly to their conception.

Marmaduke and Ziggy, 3/12/07

Today, two single-panel standbys took on an intriguing question: can a relatively lame and somewhat puzzling joke be made funnier by the addition of donuts, which some might argue to be an inherently amusing food? The answer is clearly “no”, but it’s nice to see them trying new things.

Does it make me a bad person to think that “the Donut Hole” is an almost unspeakably filthy name for a business? It’s not as bad as “the Bucket,” but still.

Slylock Fox, 3/12/07

Glow-in-the-dark paint? I’m afraid Shady Shrew’s a lot shadier than that: that’s a big pile of radioactive waste, and our soricomorphic friend is a terrorist dirty bomber as well as a perpetrator of televised consumer fraud.

What the hell kind of home shopping network allows its vendors make crude, hand-painted signs for their wares? The kind that doesn’t have a geiger counter, apparently.

Apartment 3-G, 3/12/07

Going by Tommie’s facial expression, I’m guessing she’s all kinds of not listening to Margo. Not that it matters, because, as the greatest omniscient narration box in the history of omniscient narration boxes tells us, “Back at 3-G, Margo’s happiness is undiminished!” Pretty much every installment of this strip that features Margo could include that box, actually; just substitute “rage” for “happiness” if she’s in her other mood, and you’d be all set.

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Ziggy, 2/22/07

Oh, man! Zing! Who else but Ziggy would dare to make this sort of cutting, politically-charged joke about the Savings and Loan scandal? And only twenty years after the last of the fallout ended, too! Pow! Preach on, brother! Somewhere, Neil Bush’s ears are burning! And this time, it’s not something he caught from a Thai prostitute.

Mark Trail, 2/22/07

“That’s right! Mark will be none the wiser about the fact that I peed in his lake! I’ll be sipping piña coladas on a weirdly nonspecific tropical island before you know it!”

Seriously, I don’t know what’s more stilted and artificial: that Dan is narrating his evil plotting aloud, or that Dan is narrating his evil plotting aloud in a weird, circumlocutory way that preserves suspense about what exactly his evil plot is. On the other hand, maybe the whole point of this exercise has been to get that sexy second panel drawing of him shirtless, dripping wet, and perfectly coifed out there. If so, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED, baby.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/22/07

“Yes, let’s go take a look … at my vagina!”

…

OK, I think I’ve gone about as far with this as I can.

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Apartment 3-G, 11/15/06

The Tommie and Gina storylines have reappeared … with a vengeance! All day before I had a chance to read this, I was seeing comments like “I think I saw this in a porn movie once,” yet I still wasn’t prepared for the oddness. I agree that the last panel doesn’t really make sense unless Gina’s smock-thing doesn’t cover her ass or something and she’s come to make the moves. Because the last person who you should be going to for fashion advice is Tommie, and the last person who should be making snide remarks about your manila smock-thing/sky-blue shirt combo is someone who looks in her closet and says, “Hey, you know what would go great with this dusty pink polo shirt? A gleaming white v-neck sweater!”

Still and all, I’m hoping the two of them go at it post haste. If nothing else, it would get them out of those hideous clothes.

Ziggy, 11/15/06

You know what would have made this cartoon marginally funnier? If we could actually see the mice making off with Ziggy’s cell phone. Or see the antenna sticking out of the mousehole. Or see Ziggy holding an empty cell-phone holder. Or really see anything that would indicate that this wasn’t one of hundreds of photocopies of a single pre-drawn “Ziggy talks to the mice” panel, all awaiting only the addition of “hilarious” dialogue and published at reasonable intervals so as not to be glaringly obvious.

(Note for libel purposes: I’m not saying that Ziggy actually uses photocopied panels instead of coming up with a new one every day. I’m just saying that it would save a lot of work if it did.)

They’ll Do It Every Time, 11/15/06

The funny thing about today’s TDIET is how quickly the cheerful scene in panel one degenerates into full-on Lockhorns-esque dysfunction. Sure, Lugbutt probably should have made up his mind about his culinary choices before he sent wifey down to the kitchen; but then, wifey’s transformation from well-coifed and cheerful to bleary-eyed and exhausted after carrying a single cup of tea up a single flight of stairs smacks of melodrama. I think she’s been nursing the urge to pan-fry Lugbutt’s hide for some time. Do it now, lady! He’s feeble and can’t run! Get the pan!

The important thing about this panel, though, is that it’s been sent in from a resident of New Orleans. Apparently, the citizens of that devastated city have been able to move on from Katrina and once again focus their attention on petty domestic drama. Of course, it’s possible that Lugbutt’s been laid low from exposure to toxic mold blooming in the walls of his flood-ravaged home. Or from cholera.

Archie, 11/15/06

See, this is why Archie should stop wooing Veronica and stop hanging around the obscenely wealthy Lodge family: because their riches are devouring their souls from the inside out. Poor Smithers, who has no doubt served as a faithful family retainer for longer than Veronica has been alive, is not a “who” to her, but a “what.” The odd phrasing of the strip’s punchline might have made sense if at some point Lodge pater had asked “What did Archie spill it on” or some such; as it is, it’s clear that the vast class gulf between Veronica and Smithers has caused her to see him as just another piece of furniture that her family owns. Rise up in revolution, Smithers! You have nothing to lose but your chains!

Family Circus, 11/15/06

Speaking of which, Billy seems to be attending a school run by Communists.