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Ziggy, 8/18/05

You know, doing this blog, and therefore having to come up with something amusing once a day or so, has given me a certain amount of sympathy for cartoonists, who have to do the same. It’s harder than it looks. Sometimes you just end up staring at a blank piece of paper (or computer screen, in my case), despairing that anything funny will ever come out of your brain again.

But this … no. No. NO. See, because a robot’s voice is tinny, and maybe if it was coming out of a shell … well, no. Still, no. Sorry Tom and Tom II, but: no. No. No. I thank you for your time and effort, but: no. And no.

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The Phantom, 6/17/05

Ces apparently gets racist hate mail for implying that a ten year old might be capable of taking care of herself; thus, I’m sure that King Features is really hearing it about this strip, which involves a latex-suited freak and a cone-hatted pygmy joking about the jungle-roofie-fueled date-rape (er, archaeological-expedition-rape) sequence that’s coming soon. Yuck.

Ziggy, 6/17/05

As C. Montgomery Burns once so aptly put it: “Oh, Ziggy, will you ever win?” I guess some GPs really are sick of dealing with patients without HEALTH INSURANCE.

Family Circus, 6/17/05

Dolly mangles the Pledge of Alliegence, day four: America’s nightmare continues. Remember how much trouble Roseanne Barr got into for singing the Star Spangled Banner off-key? You’d think that Sean Hannity would have called for the Keane clan’s death by now, but no such luck.

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Josh’s indecisiveness means extra bonus comics for you!

Ziggy, 5/25/05

Proof that Rex Morgan, M.D. isn’t alone in the category of Comics Whose Authors Should Really Read The Dialogue Aloud Before Choosing Which Words To Boldface or Underline. I’m trying to think of what the pizza emporium representative could have said that would make this intonation make sense. “We have a special on our five-cheese pizza.” “Really? …do you have five-cheese pizzas?” “Uh, yeah, we have a special on it.” Really? …do you have five-cheese pizzas?” “Um…”

I should cut him some slack, I guess. He’s a mouse. It’s an achievement that he’s learned to speak English and operate a phone.

Sally Forth, 5/25/05

Ces, you magnificent bastard, if this storyline ends with Sally poking at a mummified cat corpse with the handle of her tennis racket while Hilary screams in terror and grief, I will be deeply impressed. Tip to Ted: a casual aside at such a vulnerable moment along the lines of “Kitty heard that you were going away to Paris for a week so she killed herself” equals seven days of gettin’ it on in the City of Light without bratty child interference.

Apartment 3-G, 5/25/05

You say you hate to see him go, Lu Ann, but it’s sure giving you a nice opportunity to stare at his ass, isn’t it? I notice in this strip that Lu Ann and Janitor Scott are parting ways in SoPink, the all-pink district in Manhattan that the hipsters seem to have discovered lately. Time Out New York says SoPink is the new DUMBO.

Update: 158 comments, and nobody points out that I got the day of the week wrong in the title of this post? Thank God for the future Mrs. C.