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Judge Parker, 9/4/15

Marie, the Spencer-Drivers’ sassy maid, is quickly becoming my favorite character in this strip, what with her apparent love of telling the main characters exactly why their ludicrous schemes will fail, and her swoopy eyebrows giving her the exactly correct expression of anger-driven glee. Neddy looks mildly concerned over the chaos she’s going to accidentally unleash on her still-under-constructions offices next week, though probably she’s mostly thinking about how the angry proles will turn on each other, literally beating each other to death in a competition for some of the last manufacturing jobs in the area, and then she’ll have to figure out how to get poor person blood out of all the fabric she’s hopefully remembered to buy.

Six Chix, 9/4/15

There’s a lot to unpack in this insane cartoon. Like, I had to actually Google “are giraffe spots unique” to figure out the joke. Then there’s the fact that the psychologist (?) is a giraffe but also labelled “VET”, as if sapient giraffes would use the term for their own indigenous medical practitioners. Mostly, though, I just want to point out that our de-spotted giraffe patient has limbs that all look way too much like dicks for my comfort.

Shoe, 9/4/15

I love that the usual patented Shoe Goggle Eyes of Horror have been replaced here with Goggle Eyes of Transcendent Rage. “Wait, what? You’re mocking your sacred duty under democracy to understand the platforms of candidates for public office? In my restaurant? Oh, hell no.”

Spider-Man, 9/4/15

Man, Peter Parker really cares about admiralty law and maritime sovereignty. “BOO! GET BACK TO US WHEN ATLANTIS RATIFIES THE UNITED NATIONS CONVENTION ON THE LAW OF THE SEA!”

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Gil Thorp, 9/3/15

YES YES YES MARTY MOON PAST ROMANCE PLOT YES I’VE NEVER WANTED ANYTHING SO MUCH IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!!! I’m assuming the lady in panel three is in fact Marty’s ex, and is the same lady from earlier this week who is supposedly some sort of smart person, though the fact that at one point she did sex stuff with Marty calls that into question. Clearly the “mental baggage” she’s referring to in her thought balloon is the unshakeable memory of the smell of Marty’s goatee, all discount whisky and microphone disinfectant.

Apartment 3-G, 9/3/15

Oh dear, it looks like Margo really has lost her grip on reality, for confusing and unrealistic reasons. No, Margo! If you have the money and she doesn’t, that makes you her boss! Are you so far gone that you’ve even forgotten basic capitalism?

Spider-Man, 9/3/15

“Yeah, blah blah, we’re literally poisoning you, your friends and family are sick and dying because of our negligence, please don’t dump our garbage directly into your home. Heard it all before! Get a job, hippie!”

Funky Winkerbean, 9/3/15

Poor Les has been haunted by thoughts of aging and death all week, so probably the sudden appearance of Dead Lisa shouldn’t be a huge shock. Is she here to gently shepherd her beloved through the Veil to the Other Side? Let’s hope! Cayla can use the life insurance money to have dinner in Paris, blessedly alone!

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Funky Winkerbean, 9/2/15

Ha ha, remember Coach Stropp, who used to cruelly mock Les’s athletic ineptitude, back when this strip was funny? Well, he’s dead now.

Hagar the Horrible, 9/2/15

Ha ha, a Viking always pays his final respects to his enemy. After he’s dead! Like that guy is about to be. Hagar’s sword didn’t slice through the flesh of his face, but the blow to his head was probably hard enough that his brain is already starting to hemorrhage.

Heathcliff, 9/2/15

Ha ha, those birds have a feeling of impending doom! Probably because Heathcliff is about to kill and eat them, hopefully in that order.

Mary Worth, 9/2/15

Well, at least nobody’s dead or about to die in Mary Worth, as Toby prepares to stride purposefully out into single life wearing a purple tracksuit and electric blue jacket, and … wait, what’s that? Over on the bookshelf?

OH MY GOD IT’S THE ASHES OF A DEAD DOG, PROBABLY! Fido has never appeared as a beloved Cameron-pet in the thirteen years I’ve been reading this strip; possibly Ian owned the pup before he even met Toby. I sincerely hope tomorrow we see Ian lying in bed, weeping and reading Toby’s note for the fourth time, clutching this urn of dog cremains like his favorite teddy bear. “You understood me, Fido,” he sobs. “You’re the only one who ever understood me.”