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Gil Thorp, 7/16/16

In general, I have been very happy about our move to Los Angeles, but like many transplants, I do sort of miss the passing of the seasons. This surprised me because I hate both cold and hot and humid weather. You do sort of get a winter from December to February, which everyone else makes fun of because the temperature maybe gets down into the 50s, though keep in mind that most Southern California homes are very poorly insulated so if it’s in the 50s outside, it’s also in the 50s inside your house. But the rest of the year is kind of a sunny-and-70s-or-80s blur, with occasional weeks in the 90s that could happen at any time, with the upshot being that it’s actually kind of difficult to remember what time of year it is sometimes. To keep moored in reality, you come to depend on external signposts, and up to this year, Gil Thorp’s chronological rhythm was one of those for me. You got football in the fall, basketball in the winter, baseball in the spring, and some wacky “school’s out” plot or maybe golf in the summer. But it’s summer and this baseball plot is still happening. Even when the “Elmer gets deported” plot of spring ’08 dragged on into summer, there was an acknowledgement that the semester had ended. But now? Much as I would like to enjoy Barry Bader’s continuing hilarious insensitivity to his beloved classmate’s gruesome death, I can’t help but wonder why Gil is still at his desk on July 16th. Has the world gone completely mad? Is this the final step in becoming unmoored from the natural world, begun decades ago when industry began to displace agriculture as humanity’s dominant profession? Will the fall bonfire never come?

Hagar the Horrible, 7/16/16

I’m not sure which interpretation of this strip is more unsettling: that an executioner, overhearing strangers having a conversation in a pub, assumed that they were talking about executing people, or that this executioner’s work life and sexual desires have converged in horrifying ways.

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As I head into my birthday weekend and reflect on my own impending Crankshaft-like senescence, enjoy your youth, and your comment of the week!

“Dear Gil Thorp narration box: I know you may not have liked Addison Radley but it is still pretty rude to boo her at her own funeral.” –Zootyr

Your runners up are also very funny:

“Dennis’ dad gets his scotch in clear plastic tetrapacks, because when you buy in bulk you’re really paying for the bottles.” –pugfuggly

“I suspect the whole refrigerated-apple business is just an excuse for some new artist at the Hank Ketchum studio to test a prototype for his planned spin-off strip, Alice Mitchell Bends Over To Pick Things Up.” –seismic-2

“I’m going to doubt that Mayor Kane specifically mentioned school buses falling through bridges in his statement to the local press. That horrific image must have come directly from the mind of one Ed Crankshaft. ‘Can you imagine it, Pam? The shattered glass. The squealing tires. Metal being torn like paper. Rubble falling like rain. And, louder than anything, the screams of the children. It would be beautiful … I mean, terrible. It would be terrible.’” –Joe Blevins

“She’s doing it to be close to you! In contrast, my motives are entirely honorable. I’m only in it for the money!” –hogenmogen

“If you think about Boo’s death, I’m the real victim, since I feel guilty. But no, actually her death was total meaningless chance. Did I mention I’m not good at eulogies?” –Steve S

“Today’s Six Chix depicts a bizarre scene, as an insane nurse lies on the floor of the hospital nursery practicing her ventriloquism act. Reaching up through the bed, she prods one baby to get it to point towards the viewing window, creepily treating the infant like a living puppet.” –Betrayer

“I … wow, gosh. Dagwood warned me you were a dick, but … Mister Tightwad? You know you’re the one who asked me to come here, right?” –Chyron HR

“Looking at the evolving symmetry version of Tommy who lives in Mirror World, I’d have to agree that the meds are definitely working!” –Chareth Cutestory

“Tommy: ‘I don’t want my girl to forget what I look like.’ Iris: ‘Well, how about if I go down instead? That should remind her.'” –Pozzo

“‘You see, a flash mob is–‘ ‘I’m well familiar with it, demon! You just spent the last three panels explaining it, devil! Repeated exposition serves no purpose, fiend!'” –enlong

“Curtis is too young to be a millennial. He’s a member of whatever generation both Gen X and millennials will call lazy and entitled in 15 years during the climate-change-driven great migration northward, which I believe is referred to as a ‘flash mob.’” –Steve S

“Animal Collective? Isn’t that the union we belong to?” –handsome Harry Backstayge, idol of a million other women

“Based on the rating and the bottoms of the last few letters on the sign, the movie could be Marley & Me. The IMDb plot keywords for that movie include ‘pet funeral’, ‘miscarriage’, and ‘south Florida’. I hope tomorrow’s comic shows them coming out of that movie.” –A Concerned Reader

“And the painkiller helps me see you better, baby. Oh, and did I mention I’m on painkillers? Painkillers, baby!” –Christine Lehman, on Facebook

“It’s a shame we start in medias res, because I think Leroy would have a great hot-take game: ‘Pokémon Go tells you to enjoy catching monsters, but there was nothing fun about the monster I caught.’ ‘After Brexit, Nigel Farage needs to lead my Leave campaign.’ ‘If you call Trump a tyrant, but not my wife, you’re part of the problem.’ ‘Face it: all lives matter, except my wife’s.’” –Schroduck

“A down on his luck Satan tries his hand at temptation at a church festival in Westview, Ohio. God on his throne laughs as the original snake in the grass realizes that there’s a Hell far worse then the one beneath the earth.” –Voshkod

Thanks to everyone who put some scratch in my tip jar! And let’s give thanks to our advertisers:

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Crankshaft, 7/15/16

The punchline to today’s strip, in which Crankshaft responds to an church volunteer’s innocent attempt to play-act as a carnival barker by pointing out life’s essentially random cruelty, is par for the Funkyverse course, so instead I’d like to point out that our hero is just straight-up covered with filth here. This is actually some admirable continuity from earlier this week, where the jokes were about how Crankshaft is incapable of eating fair food without soiling himself, but it gives a nice touch to today’s strip, where it looks like he’s wandered out of a scene of unspeakable carnage. He gets to lay down this truth bomb on poor straw-hat-boater guy because he’s seen some shit, man.

The Lockhorns, 7/15/16

I guess Leroy’s supposed to have a black eye here, indicating that once again a potentially pleasant evening has ended with him getting punched in the face? But all I can see is the eye makeup that Alex wore in A Clockwork Orange, so I’m assuming that the argument was over whether it’s socially acceptable to cosplay as literary characters when you go over to someone else’s house for drinks.