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Dick Tracy, 9/27/17

Hey, remember the Space Coupe? It was a charmingly retro spacecraft invented by Diet Smith that allowed Dick Tracy and his pals to travel to the moon, leading to the act of cross-species sex that brought adorable li’l Honeymoon Tracy into existence! Honeymoon was actually born within this space-travelling cylinder, so she has a unique right to wear that t-shirt, I suppose, though I can’t help but think about people who died horribly in it not that long ago!

Gasoline Alley, 9/27/17

Speaking of dying horribly, looks like Rufus is about to be involved in a fatal officer-involved shooting on the streets of Neo-Chicago! Presumably it will be easy to spin his impenetrable fake rustic dialect as resisting arrest in some way.

Judge Parker, 9/27/17

Oh my God, did a member of the Parker-Driver clan experience a consequence of some kind??? And it was for something she barely even did! (She and her arms dealer dad might’ve done a few light murders in the course of extracting herself from a CIA rogue op she probably should’ve noticed she had accidentally become a part of.) Anyway, three years in the clink in Parkerverse time will be the equivalent of … maybe 40, 50 years in real time? Enjoy reading the joyous strips featuring April’s release on your holo-pads in space, everybody!

Spider-Man, 9/27/17

Uhhhhh, Peter, she’s … already a widow? Uncle Ben? “With great power comes great responsibility?” Is any of this ringing a bell, Peter

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/26/17

Oh, I forgot to mention the other day that we got a look at what our other beloved Rex Morgan, M.D. characters are up to, and what Heather is up to is being pregnant in England with the child of her now-fully-demented husband who no longer recognizes her, with the method she used to to achieve this state left tastefully unmentioned but presumably being along the lines discussed here. This means that family manservant Jordan’s job went from the extremely tricky (trying to help care for an increasingly infirm old man and offer emotional support to his bereft younger wife) to the comically easy (living in the Averys’ vast American mansion and, like, making sure it doesn’t burn down or anything). Apparently the price he has to pay is that whenever he brings a lady over, he has to kill any sexual tension by reminding her of her own mortality. He doesn’t make the rules!

Beetle Bailey, 9/26/17

Speaking of dementia, in Germany one nursing home figured out how to keep Alzheimer’s patients from escaping: setting up a fake bus stop just outside. The patients might be seized with the idea that it was very important that they go home, and rather than forcibly stopping them from leaving, staff would just allow them to go sit on a bench waiting for bus that will never come; eventually they forget why they’re there and can be convinced to come back inside more easily. I’ve always been fascinated by this technique, and it really came to mind today when I read Beetle Bailey, in which a soldier at a military base that has never quite seemed to have any of the details correct stands smiling at an obviously toy BUS STOP sign with two pork chops in his pockets.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/26/17

Ha ha, it’s funny because the pets in Hootin’ Holler are covered in vermin, just like the people!

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Mary Worth, 9/25/17

Hi everybody, I’m back! Huge thanks to all who contributed to the fundraiser, and huge thanks to Uncle Lumpy for being a hilarious guest blogger as always! (I’m still giggling at “But his contract done restricted his wanderings to the premium content offerings from the Tribune Content Agency, LLC.”)

I’m glad to be back, though, and not least because I got here just in time for Dawn to hit her emotional nadir. We all know that Dawn’s true purpose in the great tapestry of life in Mary Worth’s universe is to be as demonstrably miserable as possible. Whether she’s mope-masturbating to Game of Thrones, or staring forlornly at one of the Renaissance’s most famous dicks while thinking about her ex-boyfriend, or, as in this case, stumbling disheveled out of her apartment after what I assume is a 24-hour long mismatched-sweatsuit-clad crying jag to grab a fistful of carrot muffins and then retreat to the nest of blankets she’s made for herself in the middle of the bathroom floor, Dawn is at her best when she’s at her most pathetic.

Crankshaft, 9/25/17

Oh, man, looks like Crankshaft is in for a tough decision that he’s going to have weigh against his moral code: what will allow him to be more of a dick to more people, siding with labor or management?

Pluggers, 9/25/17

Pluggers know that the opiate of today’s masses flows through electrical wires and broadband pipes, and they’re doing their part to help keep the spigot at full blast!