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Beetle Bailey, 3/29/12

Cookie has always been something of an anomaly among the denizens of Camp Swampy; he never appears in uniform, so one assumes that, like Miss Buxley, he’s a civilian employee of the military rather than a soldier himself. My grandfather was during World War II a stateside Army cook who was actually in the Army; I’m not sure when that stopped being a thing, but presumably it was during the post-Korea/pre-Vietnam era during which most of Beetle Bailey’s now thoroughly outdated tropes arose. One assumes that today Cookie receives his paycheck from a Halliburton subsidiary.

But while he may not be under military discipline in a strict legal sense, it appears that he’s required to do the bidding of whoever’s around with the highest rank. Today’s strip, for instance, is much more than the typical ha-ha-Sarge-sure-likes-to-eat because of Cookie’s look of quiet despair. He knows he’s killing Sarge calorie by calorie, knows as he stares into that pan that he’s troweling grease onto Sarge’s arteries every morning. He’d like to suggest a healthy breakfast once in a while, but he’s duty-bound to produce 1,190 calories, as ordered. But he doesn’t have to be happy about it.

Mark Trail, 3/29/12

The beginning of this current Mark Trail storyline has promised nothing but a little aerial photography of the greater Lost Forest region, which, once it became clear that Mark was not terrified by the notion of mechanically assisted flight, did very little for me. But now the real action is starting, and that action involves what I assume are marijuana plants that are about to be spotted from the air, and that action will be awesome. Hey, generic khaki-clad baddies, do you know who would recognize marijuana? Mark Trail! Prepare to get punched something fierce!

Family Circus, 3/29/12

Skynet has sent an army of T-1000s from the future to attack the Keane Kompound, which should make us question whether it really hates humanity as much as we’ve been led to believe.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/29/12

“And his thirst for brown liquor!”

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Momma, 3/28/12

Momma has always been depicted in this strip as being unafraid to butt in and tell anybody that they’re doing things incorrectly; however, she’s also been portrayed as being constantly haunted by her own impending demise, so I’m not sure if I really buy that she’d just sass Death quite so sassily. On the other hand, the process of reaping souls appears to have been so demystified due to budget cuts that it now just consists of the Grim Reaper pointing at you, causing you to levitate briefly. The latest victim appears more bemused than terrified by the process, so perhaps Death needs to prepare for a lot more pushback from little old ladies.

Gasoline Alley, 3/28/12

The latest meandering, unlikeable Gasoline Alley storyline involves beloved dialect-spouter Rufus, who has become something of a cat hoarder. After realizing he can no longer afford to feed both his kitties and himself, he has attempted without success to first sell them and then give them away. Fortunately he’s suffering too much foot pain to walk, as one assumes that his next stop will be the river.

Pluggers, 3/28/12

Pluggers don’t care much about the content of your character; they’re mainly concerned about where you fit into the local kinship networks, since those alone determine whether or not they should be waging a blood feud against you and your children and your children’s children.

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Hi and Lois, 3/27/12

As I’ve noted, I’m really quite pleased that Hi and Lois has chosen to either go “edgy” or stop caring (or, more likely, both) and reclaim Thirsty’s original purpose as a character, which was to provide alcohol-fueled comic contrast with the strip’s square protagonist. I’m imagining Thirsty shoving that whole pitcher into a plastic bag, taking occasional slurps from it so as to numb the pain of the rest of the afternoon at Foofram Industries.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/27/12

Speaking of keeping things clean for the kids: Rex Morgan, I know that the newspaper comics industry does impose some restrictions on adult content, but I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to write the phrase “take a bath,” particularly in a strip where you lavish that much attention on the underside of Iris’s breasts.

Mary Worth, 3/27/12

Hmm, yesterday when I referred to this fellow as a “magical hobo”, I meant it as a term of literary criticism, highlighting the fact that he no doubt exists merely to help along the story of the main characters, and that his own wants, needs, and pain are entirely ignored by the narrative. But today we learn that he has the ability to instantly teleport himself from two feet in front of Nola to two feet behind her, presumably via magic.