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Mary Worth, 6/28/14

Mary is taking an interesting tack in dealing with little Olive’s supposed revelations: rather than dismissing them outright and telling her she’s crazy, she’s smoothing down the edges, encouraging her to take the wisdom she’s receiving directly from the Divine and recasting it in the language of a Hallmark card. “Dear, I’ve never had my soul burned by the otherworldly glow of a being from a transcendent plane to whom we would seem to be mere insects, but I still believe we could all do better if we just try a little harder!” she says, as she fills a pie crust with ice chips for some reason.

Funky Winkerbean, 6/28/14

Under most screenwriting contracts, the writer is actually paid in multiple steps: this first and largest chunk is sent upon delivery, but there are additional payments designated for the expected rewrite and polishing work that every screenplay goes through. So, in other words, Les is literally being paid thousands of dollars to write while being put up in one of Hollywood’s most exclusive and storied hotels. Don’t you feel terrible for him?

Wizard of Id, 6/28/14

Do you think “board” is some ancient but still legitimate synonym for “hump,” or was it just the end product of a long and tortuous negotiation between the author and the syndicate about leg-humping euphemisms?

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Let us have no delay! Let us have the comment of the week!

“Poor young’uns! Their tongues, once a vivid fire engine red, are now the color of a pencil eraser. They been eatin’ too much roadkill, which isn’t providing some vital nutrient. Iron, maybe? Vitamin K? Look, I’m not a doctor. But I do know this don’t look right.” –made of wince

And the hilarious runners up! Let us have those too!

“You can tell that Olive’s parents are weird and distant because they don’t say goodbye to her as she leaves, they ‘observe’ her. ‘June 22, 10:24 AM: Subject is leaving the apartment to prepare baked goods with the elderly woman next door. Will copulate until she returns.'” –pugfuggly

“It actually makes sense that Lulu would recognize the ring Patty is wearing across the restaurant, since a lynx has excellent eyesight for hunting. What makes less sense is for a lynx to have fingers — but that’s life among grotesquely anthropomorphized animals!” –BigTed

Shoe: “BREAKER BREAKER THIS JUST IN BIRDS HAVE BELLY BUTTONS SUCK IT DARWIN” –pastordan

“Shouldn’t Taurus blow his hippo whistle?” –Ned Ryerson

“I’m hoping that the all-night conversation between Abbott and the Gardias eventually turned to speculation about the sequel to The Chambers Affair and Randy and April come down to breakfast to find Alan seated at a typewriter, at gunpoint. These guys aren’t going to put up with any George R.R. Martin shit.” –cheech wizard

“You heard it here first, folks — even when he’s being hailed as the greatest artist of his generation, literally nobody could bring themselves to call Les ‘entertaining.'” –The Ben

“You’ve wasted your time creating a beautiful work of art, and you have my sympathy and pity for that. Anyway, enough business. Let’s kiss these mirrors while weeping openly. My secretary will give you some paper and a quill pen if you’d like to write poetry with your tears.” –Dan

“Nooo!!! This will just allow Les to come out with a ‘Directors Cut’ version of Lisa’s Story. Seemingly never ending, it will be like Das Boot with cancer.” –Mikey

“Chip gave his emoticon five chins, to emphasize that Ms. Blips has none. Cruel, really. ” –hogenmogen

“At that moment, Les had an epiphany. He knew now that there was only one way that Lisa’s Story would ever be produced. The answer was right in front of him. The words formed on his lips before he had time to regret them, and regret he almost certainly would: ‘What if I made Lisa into a cat?’ There was a pregnant pause. ‘And she gets better,’ he added mournfully.” –Guts Dozier

“Throwing a fiery torch into the mouth of any animal is a good way to defeat it. That’s just basic Dungeon Master knowledge. As always, be wary of fire-based elemental creatures though, because you’d then actually grant them anywhere from +3 to +7 health.” –Chareth Cutestory

“I really hope this path toward even more amped-up bad-assery works its way into Mark Trail’s writing, spawning a new genre of full-immersion gonzo-wildlife journalism. ‘Maw of Flaming Death’ will only be the start. Once he goes full-on Dark Mark, I expect to see such feature articles as ‘Black Blood, White Gold: My Year As An Ivory Poacher,’ ‘The Bushmeat Diaries’ and ‘IT IS RUSTY! New Directions in Cryptozoology'” –Voyage of the Oversnark

“‘I don’t understand any of this, Carol!’ It’s very simple, first there was an accident with a deer, and then you decided to take a faun back to the apartment, and then presumably got tired of deer shit covering your floor and bedding, so rather than calling an animal rehab facility, you took it out to a sketchy vet, who decided to heal your deep psychological problems by making you clean up animal shit without pay possibly as some sort of twisted BDSM farm fetish on his part, at which point his ‘girlfriend’ showed up and he ran off while she went shopping and got disgusted by people trying to be polite and make small talk with her … and look, I’m pretty sure this all ends with the ‘doctor’ and his ‘girlfriend’ turning you into a skin suit or a human centipede or something that will eventually make its way into a Hillbilly Serial Killer Art display in Margo’s gallery.” –Comrade Dread

“Thanks a LOT, Mark — hippos hate the taste of human flesh. Now with that hippo’s taste buds burned away there will be no stopping the blood rampage.” –Patrick

“The last two panels look like those computer-aged photos of kidnapping victims. ‘We think she may have started wearing headbands in captivity.'” –Joe Blevins

“I’m a little concerned that Jughaid brought his little friend out for a poetry recital on a craggy, black-rock precipice out over the tree-lined rocks below. I’m a little set back that all the waggle-tongue shenanigans in Hoot’n Holler are bracketed by operatic declarations of love in the shadow of Chernabog, Great Demon of Bald Mountain.” –Black Drazon

“The keys open every bathroom in the city, but they won’t open the door on this chamber they’ve trapped us in. This white anechoic chamber. We can only hear ourselves. Even if we’re silent, we’ll hear each other’s heartbeats. Until we’re driven mad by the constant thumping and kill each other, finally alone in silence. And then the lone survivor will realize she can still hear a heartbeat, her own. This is the just punishment for our crimes.” –Voshkod

“Is Jughaid revealing the continuing oral traditions of Hootin’ Holler? Perhaps Robert Burns’ song ‘A Red, Red Rose’ travelled a long voyage from his native Scotland to the Americas, deep into the mountains. The new settlers, versed in their motherland’s art, passed along from generation to generation this folk song, which now became the crooning suitor’s love call, attracting the most available cousin with the least standards.” –sporknpork

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Beetle Bailey, 6/27/14

I love the way Mrs. Halftrack’s expression of forced gaiety collapses the moment Miss Buxley asks her question. I’m not sure if she was genuinely if briefly happy that something pertaining to her husband could be spun as a positive and that good feeling was genuinely deflated when she had to provide details, or if she’s just slipped into her usual sour mode of marital misanthropy but is secretly pleased to be undermining her husband in public. My guess is the latter, and since she probably views Miss Buxley as a romantic rival based on the General’s delusional reports, she’s all the more excited to relay stories of his terrible incontinence.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/27/14

How quickly Kelly’s facial expression changes from “[DOLLAR SIGNS IN EYEBALLS]” to a wistful “Oh, so … it was that easy, then?” Sorry, Kelly: like Sarah, you’re discovering that life in the Morgans’ orbit means unearned riches, which sounds great until you realize that no pile of cash can fill the space inside where personal pride is supposed to go. She might be reflecting on the irony involved here: this whole journey to becoming Sarah’s blackmail victim/personal assistant/project manager began with her getting a ride on Niki’s motorcycle, and now she doesn’t need Niki or any human affection anymore, because she has Mrs. Pierpont’s limousine and “Bugsy”.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 6/27/14

Man, women, always going for literary bad boys, am I right?