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Tuesday one-panels

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Dennis the Menace, 5/28/13

There’s the old Menace we know and love! At least, I assume something menacing is happening in this panel, as Mr. Wilson looks completely terrified. Not sure what that has to do with Dennis taking a photo of him, though. Unless maybe he’s a nefarious criminal, possibly wanted at the Hague for crimes against humanity, and he’s afraid that if his face appears anywhere online INTERPOL will come for him. Or maybe it’s actually the act of climbing the ladder that freaks him out, and his anxiety is compounded by the thought that Dennis is photographing him in an embarrassing situation? Either way I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Mr. Wilson: that’s not a phone or anything that can connect to the Internet, just some dumb old-fashioned standalone non-electronic camera. They probably don’t even make film for it anymore!

Heathcliff, 5/28/13

Man, I do not even get the deal with the Heathcliff mouse strips and cheese. It’s like, Heathcliff does weird, inscrutable things with cheese when he’s in the general proximity of mice? Because mice like eating cheese? It my experience cats really enjoy eating some delicious cheese as well, but that’s neither here nor there. Mostly what I want to say about this cartoon is that “I’m thinking of unfriending him on Facebook” should replace “Christ, what an asshole” as the default catch-all punchline for New Yorker cartoons and indeed every comic ever.

Pluggers, 5/28/13

Today’s shower scene is clearly the sexiest Pluggers to date, though the eroticism is somewhat reduced by the revelation that stingy pluggers only use shampoo on the small portion of their fur that happens to be on top of their heads.

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WILL THEY SWOOP DOWN AND RESCUE THEIR HOT DOG MATES FROM THE FLAMES

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Heathcliff, 5/27/13

The best thing about this Heathcliff is that it almost isn’t creepy. Like, we could just take it at what I’m pretty sure is meant to be face value: that Heathcliff celebrates the beginning of hot grilling seasons by getting up on the roof and throwing a bunch of hot dog buns into the air. (Side note: Do some people say “hot dog buns” and others “hot dog rolls”? Is it a regional thing? Am I weird for thinking “rolls” sounds off?) That would be … well, weird, but not unsettling. But in fact it doesn’t look like Heathcliff has thrown them at all. His arms are barely extended, certainly not enough to explain how far up the hot dog buns are. No, it looks like he really did release them, and they’re flying. They’re alive. The bread flapping like wings. Rustling. Raining crumbs down below. They’re free. They’re free. They’re free. Heathcliff stands, arms extended. The hot dog buns swoop and dive and trill their little song to each other. Grilling season …. has begun.

Slylock Fox, 5/27/13

I’m not even going to get into the extremely dubious physics behind the solution to today’s puzzle because I can’t stop thinking about who drove that car into the water. Because somebody’s dead, right? That playful octopus pushed aside the bloated corpse of Harry Ape or Buford Bull or some other nefarious land-beast, or maybe the octopus is on top of the drowned evil-doer, just draping his tentacles all over the poor guy’s stiffened limbs. And let’s not even talk about the fact that Slylock knew all about this, used his ratiocination to get to the beach before the robber even did, probably watched the car go into the water, watched it sink under. “Let’s take a leisurely walk up the road and get some scuba equipment, Max,” he said. “Things ought to be nice and safe for us down there in about, say, an hour.”

Mark Trail 5/27/13

Guys I … I don’t think Cherry knows where her shoulder is

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Maternal Sunday

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Mary Worth, 5/26/13

Oh, did you think that Elinor was going to react to her daughter’s betrayal with verbal abuse or physical violence? No, that’s not her style, you see. She’s more into faking various medical ailments. This will be her toughest challenge yet! Malinger, Elinor! Malinger with all your might!

Marvin, 5/26/13

Ha ha, Marvin isn’t fooled by his mother’s “love” or whatever. As soon as he learns to poop in a toilet, he’s going to narc her out! (Don’t worry, Marvin-mom, that will never happen.)

Crankshaft, 5/26/13

Pam would much rather just take her chances fleeing into the woods than listen to any more of her husband’s terrible jokes, and nobody can blame her. Run free, Pam. Don’t know where you’re heading. Don’t know what you’ll find when you get there. Maybe you’ll end up sleeping by a creek, eating berries and insects to survive. But the wordplay — the wordplay will stop. It’ll finally be over.