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Apartment 3-G, 2/26/14

There’s been some suspicious chatter in the comments about the possibility that Tommie’s fiancé might not actually exist. Sure, we’ve seen him, but we also saw the mysterious ghost who forced Lu Ann to make all those crappy fern paintings, and he just turned out to be a byproduct of the carbon monoxide poisoning she developed from working in a poorly ventilated studio. Couldn’t terrible loneliness be an even more powerful spur to hallucinatory lunacy than oxygen deprivation? Tommie’s reckless food overpurchases certainly indicate a kind of panicked mania. “Yep, enough food for seven men! Of which my fiancé is definitely one! Not a figment of my imagination! Not a story that I thought nobody would ever be able to confirm or deny! A real, flesh and blood human man who wants to marry me! Ha ha! Hope you like things that come out of brightly-colored boxes!”

Mary Worth, 2/26/14

Looks like Tommy’s had a political awakening in the joint! No matter how badly he needs a job, he recoils in disgust at the thought of helping some vast megaretailer conglomerate crush the struggling mom-and-pop stores the still cling to life along Santa Royale’s scenic shopping/fish-gutting district down by the pier. Or maybe he’s just worried that his sobriety will be in trouble because the Santaroymart warehouses a den of drug depravity, if I correctly remember that the hilariously botched and laughably named drug bust “Operation H-Town” went down there.

Better Half, 2/26/14

Sure, it’ll probably set her back thousands of dollars, but when you come home and find your husband sticking his dick in your home entertainment system, you can be forgiven for reacting strongly.

Herb and Jamaal, 2/26/14

Like when there’s nobody else in the room, for instance!

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Mary Worth, 2/25/14

This current storyline would be fantastic enough if it only featured the return of Tommy (who, despite having no dialogue today, is satisfying my need for Tommy-related content with his hilariously theatrical moping in panel one); but as a bonus, it’s also featuring Wilbur’s desperate, transparent attempt to win back his true love Iris! I have a special place in my heart for this pairing, considering that the very first Mary Worths I covered on this blog, nearly ten years ago, involved Wilbur asking Iris out on a date and then processing endlessly with his daughter about it. Nice to compare those old strips to today’s and see that his arms are as hairy and virile as ever! Anyway, never forget that today’s panel two — in which our combed-over lothario idly strokes one of his chins and explains that he’s decided to not do half of his fairly undemanding job — represents Wilbur “turning on the charm.”

Mark Trail, 2/25/14

While Jessica Canupp may turn out to be virtuous, I definitely remain convinced that her boyfriend Marlin is up to no good, what with his constant suspicion of Mark and now his refusal to help make Rusty’s dreams of a mounted, taxidermied fish looming over his bed come true. In unrelated news, I’m an unrepentant city slicker and thus have no idea how one transports a game fish to a taxidermist, but if panel two is any guide I guess you wrap it tightly in a neat cylinder of paper? My first suspicions were that Mark had brought a freakishly enormous baguette to his hosts for dinner, or perhaps a giant novelty cigar for everyone to enjoy afterwards.

Gasoline Alley, 2/25/14

Oops, it turns out that this terrible Fountain of Youth riot was just a cover story for one of Gasoline Alley’s occasional mass orgies. Molly Ballew almost slipped up and informed everyone who hadn’t been invited! How awkward!

B.C., 2/25/14

This turtle’s shell, which was literally a part of his skeletal system, was apparently mortgaged and foreclosed upon, or perhaps was seized in some sort of brutal bankruptcy settlement, because he’s been unemployed for months and months. Today’s B.C. is super fucking depressing, in other words.

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Funky Winkerbean, 2/24/14

After being told that she was old and apparently analog last week, Cindy gratefully took her corporate masters’ offer of a job as a newscaster in Cleveland, which is close enough to the Westview hell-nexus that I assume that she’ll now be back as a member of the regular cast. The abrupt transition to Funky declaring his intention to sexy up his body would imply to me that we’re about to get treated to the strip’s title character as a the fulcrum of a love triangle with his former and current wives, because scientists have finally figured out how to top the sense of disgust you felt when you saw two women fighting for Les Moore’s affections. Anyway, it’s good to have workout goals and all, but those goals should be realistic, and thus Funky should forget about “looking better than people my age” for the moment and concentrate on “looking like my actual age and not 10-15 years older.”

Crankshaft, 2/24/14

Meanwhile, in the “fun” Funkyverse strip, the actual, literal spectre of Death is strolling through Crankshaft’s suburban neighborhood, looking for souls to reap. Crankshaft gets over his momentary startlement rather quickly, of course, because he knows he’s safe for the moment: his destiny lies in a broken husk of a body in a nursing home, ten years in the future. “Huh, wonder which one of my family members is about to die,” he thinks idly, before returning to his shoveling.

Archie, 2/24/14

The mid-90s Archie strips in syndicated reruns are in fact pretty dire, but it’s kind of sad how little faith in themselves they seem to have. Look at how Reggie’s punchline has been broken up over two panels! It’s like they think if you got to the end of a sentence in panel two, you’d say, “Enh, I don’t think this is going much of anywhere, think I’ll go take a nap or something.”