Family Circus, 11/9/11
“Seriously, mommy, what is the point of even worshipping an omnipotent deity if I can’t demand that He smite my enemies?”
Judge Parker, 11/9/11
“Seriously, all you’ve got to do is hitch your wagon to some rich girl and then you can buy all the RVs you — uh oh, I’ve said too much.”
Six Chix, 11/8/11
I’m a little puzzled by the visual messaging going on here. The icon of the culty robed figure, standing on a public street and holding a sign, is well established in the cartoonist’s vocabulary, if not in reality. Usually these people are bearded old dudes, and I’ll accept the divergence from the type here to accommodate Six Chix’s lady-centric mission, but the placards they carry generally offer dire warnings of impending apocalypse, and so I don’t buy the slightly too wordy (is “Hugs Not Drugs” trademarked?) anti-drug PSA this woman is perpetrating. I do like the sassy pill-popper’s response, though. “Oh, honey, I can go days and days without physical contact with another human being — let’s be honest, most of them smell bad or linger too long or both — but it’s been four hours since I took my last Vicodin and I’m really starting to miss it, you know?”
Mark Trail, 11/8/11
I certainly hope that Kelly Welly’s article is just an expansion of what we see in panel three, which is to say that it should be page after page of closeup photos of her eyes and bangs overlaid with free associated noun phrases. It will win every single Pulitzer Prize available.
Apartment 3-G, 11/8/11
Meanwhile, the Apartment 3-G writer and artist are in the middle of one of their “you are going to draw things if I have to kill you” spats. “What will it take to get you to draw clothing that is not boring? Lu Ann’s breasts? Is that what it takes? Fine.”
Slylock Fox, 11/7/11
Oh, Reeky! Foiled by the waiter’s clumsiness … and some dirty snitch who will be getting a Reeky-style ass-kicking as soon as Reeky can post bail, obviously. Still, you have to wonder if this little restaurant heist hasn’t compromised our rodent antihero’s dignity a little bit. Reeky normally styles his hair to show his contempt for society, whether he’s wearing it in a resplendent pompadour/mullet, or maybe just a shag dyed manic panic red. For this job at a snooty restaurant, though, he apparently feels compelled to shape his hair into some kind of hideous helmet, which is presumably the sort of haircut that he thinks would be worn by a respectable people, whom he views through a veil of seething class-based contempt. I dearly hope that his plan was to whip off this awful wig and let his true ’do cascade magnificently down his neck, right before he pulled out his gun and snarled out his demand that the assembled bougies start handing over their valuables.
Luann, 11/7/11
So, things have been happening in Luann, and I guess I’m supposed to be telling you about them? See, Toni physically threatened Brad’s boss and we’re supposed to like her and … no, wait, uh, see, Toni and Anne are jockeying for Brad’s sexual favors and … gah, no, um, Brad needs this minimum wage job at Weenie World to maintain his dignity, and … er, by which I mean, Anne is thrusting her breasts around because Brad is supposed to be desirable, I guess, and you know what? I can’t do it. Look up the archives if you really need the info, I can’t deal with it.
Judge Parker, 11/7/11
“The problem is she doesn’t have a boy, and the solution is that she’s buying one! It’s like you’re not even paying attention.”
Apartment 3-G, 11/7/11
Ha ha, Ruby’s swivel-headed look of horror in panel two is priceless. “Lu Ann, I’ve held my tongue about your pre-marital whoring because I know that’s how they do things in the big city, but I will not let the sanctity of wedding dress symbolism be violated! Your dress is champagne colored or I walk.“