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Dick Tracy, 9/12/23

Sprocket Nitrate has managed to extract herself from the crumbling criminal enterprise in which she was entangled and has laid her hands on a fake passport and, you know what, good for her! Now she faces her greatest challenge yet: will she be able to bring herself to put on shoes as she flees the country? Criminal syndicates tend to have fairly relaxed workplace dress codes, but in my experience you really do need to wear shoes to board an international flight.

Mary Worth, 9/12/23

Ha ha, bet you thought that Saul and Eve getting married and paying their respects to Mary last week would signal that this week, finally, we would finally embark on a new adventure. Turns out nope! Turns out we’re stuck here forever. Truly wild that this storyline began with a lurid dogfighting plot and is going to end with an old man trying to figure out how much of his stuff he should donate to the Goodwill.

Pardon My Planet, 9/12/23

What with the combination of the classic winged-angels-standing-on-clouds depiction of heaven, reincarnation, “soul companion,” and the idea that the spirit might remain tied to the body even after death, I’m going to say something I never thought I’d say: there’s way too much going on theologically in today’s Pardon My Planet.

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Hi and Lois, 9/11/23

Sometimes it can be easy to forget that we live in an age of technological wonders. For instance, if you have a leak in your house, you can contact a plumbing professional, send them a photo or video of the problem, and have them give a preliminary diagnosis and estimate, all without the need for them to make the trip out to your house. Hi and Lois absolutely hate this, for some reason.

Dennis the Menace, 9/11/23

Not sure if this guy is supposed to be the Mitchells’ minister (in which case their denomination’s clergy has undergone a significant sartorial downgrade in the last few years) or just some hapless victim Dennis has decided to annoy while Henry and Alice stand idly by doing nothing to stop him, but that is the face of a man who is either unable to politely get away from a little moron who’s so theologically misguided that he reinvented Scientology, or the face of a guy who isn’t listening to anything that little moron is saying because he has to take a huge dump. I guess it could be both.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/11/23

Look, Rene, the days which you’d get paid for your musical talents and flim-flam schemes in cash or cocaine are over, you current operate as part of an interconnected network of specialized professionals, so get used to it and stop kidnapping people.

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Shoe, 9/10/23

I don’t play poker so I don’t know if it’s normal for three friends to be randomly assigned a total stranger as a fourth player for a game in a casino or card room or grim basement illuminated by a single lightbulb where you’re playing on a giant wire spool instead of a table. I do know that if in mid-game, that guy started, in the typical manner of his species, grunting out “Hey, who wants to fuck, huh? Who wants to fuck me. Who’s horny. I’m horny. I’m hornt up”, I for one would find it quite off-putting.

Gasoline Alley, 9/10/23

Speaking of off-putting, I can decide which possibility I find weirder: that we’re expected to believe that random people in the Gasoline Alley universe send letters looking for advice to Joel, a weird old man who does not have a newspaper column or blog or any other public venue in which to answer them, or that we’re expected to believe that people in the real world send letters looking advice to the creators of Gasoline Alley so that they can be answered in character by Joel in a Sunday strip. For the record, I don’t believe either of these things! I simply refuse to! I believe in a world that makes sense, damn it!