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Funky Winkerbean, 3/4/14

Cindy Summers had been just about the only major Funky Winkerbean character to have escaped Westview’s depressive, cancerous gravitational pull, but since her discriminatory firing, her fantasy of personal happiness is now over and God, she’s even more miserable looking about it that I would’ve imagined. Look at the loving detail on the bags under her eyes in the final panel! Has she been crying? Or is she just tired, so very tired? Anyway, I love that instead of going to one of Cleveland’s hipper neighborhoods or even to some nice, soothing chain motel where she can get her bearings, she’s chosen to have the cab take her directly from the airport to the ex-husband-managed pizza place that’s the social and economic epicenter of the dying suburb where she grew up. You can go home again. You must go home again. THERE IS NO ESCAPING YOUR HOME, NOW, AGAIN, OR EVER.

Curtis, 3/4/14

Don’t worry everyone! Gunk did not die when he leapt into the icy water to rescue dolphins! He just went into a state of hibernation so everyone thought he was dead. (We did not get similarly reassuring closure on the status of the dolphins.) Also he has now explicitly admitted that the inhabitants of Flyspeck Island are a distinct and non-human species of hominids? Look for the U.S. Navy to quarantine the place and send in teams of scientists as soon as word gets out.

Better Half, 3/4/14

Harriet would prefer to have sex with a woman.

Lockhorns, 3/4/14

Loretta would prefer to have sex with the Brawny towel guy.

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Mary Worth, 3/3/14

Tommy seems to have survived an awkward dinner with Mary and Wilbur and actually come out of the experience with a hint of a smile. Those good feelings end immediately in the next panel, as his mother isn’t even six inches out the door before ditching him to go spend some quality time with Wilbur, who needs to amble around the Charterstone grounds immediately after every meal or else he won’t be able to poop for the next 48 hours. “I’ll see you later, Tommie! Wilbur quit half his job for me, so I guess I’ll let him get to second base. Enjoy hanging out in our condo unit, alone except for your prison-time PTSD and your increasingly fragile sobriety!”

Marvin, 3/3/14

Yes, this is a great plan, Marvin! Just lurk under your bed for the next decade and a half, an increasingly feral presence, nonverbal, and, of course, since this is the cause for the whole drama, covered with your own filth. Sounds like a great life!

Herb and Jamaal, 3/3/14

Herb’s mother-in-law Eula has lived a long, amazing life. Now she yearns for death!

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Six Chix, 3/2/14

Haha, no, don’t worry, storks aren’t really going to be replaced by drones any time soon! Just like the story of storks delivering babies is a metaphor, so too is this image of remote-controlled machines carrying infants about! The stork, which, like all birds, is a creepy, weird creature covered with gross feathers and scaly skin, is a metaphor for the usual biological process of human reproduction, which is a fairly disgusting procedure involving awkward positions, icky fluids getting everywhere, and problematic emotional entanglements. The drones represent the bright future, when our next generation will be grown in clean, efficiently engineered machines, tended by expert technicians. When they reach term, the babies will be lifted out of their germination vats by autonomous drones, which will deliver them to the lucky parental units assigned to them. So, yes, I guess that part isn’t really a metaphor.

Rex Morgan, M.D. 3/2/14

Say, did you forget that back in December li’l Sarah caught her babysitter Kelly doing sex stuff on the Morgans’ couch with her boyfriend, and Sarah used it as leverage to get a cookie, and also anything else she wants? Well, Sarah didn’t forget. Sarah never forgets.