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Hi and Lois, 2/27/12

I was going to write some joke about Hi casting a loving glance over his shoulder at the TV set, reenforcing Dot’s claim that this soulless hunk of electronics has become a beloved family member by filling the Flagstons’ dull lives with hours of mind-numbing entertainment, but then I noticed that OH MY GOD HI HAS NO LEFT HAND! We’ll probably never know what sort of awful accident or assault or disease resulted in this mutilation, but it’s likely that Lois’s sudden desire for everyone to eat together at the dining room table is a misguided response to her husband’s trauma, as if she hopes that seeing his loved ones smiling at him will make him feel whole. But follow his eyes: he wants nothing more than to just sit on the couch and let reality TV wash over him and forget, forget whatever happened to him. The fact that somebody set the table so that his fork is on the left side of his plate can’t be helping his mood at all.

Notice that one of the framed pictures on the wall is of Charlie Brown and Snoopy! It’s a nice little tribute to a classic strip than ran for 50 years and never once forgot to Photoshop a hand on the end of its main character’s arm.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 2/27/12

“Haw haw! But seriously, sheriff, th’ hovels in Hootin’ Holler are all poorly constructed an’ cain’t keep out the cold! Is there anything in yore platform that would help us? Or d’you believe the gummint only exists to punish its poor citizens in yore jail, and never t’ help ’em?”

Gil Thorp, 2/27/12

I can’t help but notice that failure loser chump Ric DeVore is entirely tattoo free. Just another example of how misguided Gil’s anti-Milford Ink crusade is!

Archie, 2/27/12

“It’s the screaming, Arch. I can handle the fountains of blood, the writhing, the look of terror and agony in my patients’ eyes. But for some reason it’s the screaming that gets to me.”

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 2/26/12

I had always hoped that, if there were anywhere in America where the bane of helicopter parenting had yet to arrive, it was Hootin’ Holler. And yet here we have the Smifs hovering intrusively over their toddler instead of just letting him engage in the sort of non-supervised play in a trash-strewn backyard that made Americans from previous generations healthy and strong (those that survived, anyway). My one consolation is that Snuffy is still pretty bad at this, having stuck li’l Tater in a dog house that’s almost certainly filthy beyond description.

Panel from The Lockhorns, 2/26/12

I suppose that Loretta needed to be in the back seat in order for this joke to work (to the extent that you would consider this a “joke” that “works”), but that still doesn’t solve the mystery of who this grim-faced fellow is in the front seat. He sort of looks as he’s being driven somewhere by the Lockhorns to be done in execution-style and dumped in a shallow grave, but if that were the case he’d probably be happier to see this cop, so I’m assuming that he’s just listened to them talk for 15 or 20 minutes and has now completely lost his ability to feel joy.

Panel from Slylock Fox, 2/26/12

It seems that Rodney Rat has graduated from eager teenage grifter to “career criminal,” with sunglasses and everything. It makes me a little sad that he’s hit this elevated status in his criminal trajectory while his much awesomer relative Reeky is left back in the small time. I also question the practicality of the rope-lasso as a prisoner-retainment device, which may help explain why Rodney gets to make a career out of his criminality.

Panel from Mary Worth, 2/26/12

Mary, no! You don’t have anything to prove to her! YOU’RE LETTING HER INSIDE YOUR HEAD!

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Pluggers, 2/25/12

When I was in college I had a big thing for a Catholic girl and one week I went to church with her (ROMANTIC PRO TIP: This very rarely works) and it was a typically crunchy collegiate parish and at one point the bearded priest busted out an acoustic guitar and we got a folk-rock version the Lord’s Prayer and all I could think was “Oh my God, Mel Gibson was right.” Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I feel you, my cranky plugger friend! And I’m not ashamed to say it!

Mary Worth, 2/25/12

More proof that Nola is being unfairly depicted as the villain in this story! Obviously in whatever badly decorated office this is the well-known rules of engagement are that one sleeps one’s way to the top. It’s probably right there in the HR manual! Our catty duo knows that they’d do the same if only they were endowed with the sexy gams and malleable face of their rival.

Crankshaft, 2/25/12

So Crankshaft was inducted into the local sports hall of fame to his great delight, but for some reason this week the plot took a turn and was suddenly about how this one-armed reporter we’d never seen before accidentally wrote and published an obituary for this other guy we’ve never seen before, which, weird and not-funny as it is, is surely better than seeing Crankshaft enjoy anything.

Marmaduke, 2/25/12

Don’t be ungrateful! It’s polite of Marmaduke to shake your hand before he brutally dismembers you, just as it’s polite of him to have dug graves for your various body parts rather than just leaving them strewn about the yard.