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B.C., 6/13/11

You know, as much as I rail against the practice of keeping the same 30 or so comic strips in every newspaper in America, despite the deaths of their creators, I do understand why people like having them around. There’s something tremendously comforting in seeing the same characters, day after day, year after year, doing the same things. You get so accustomed to their rhythms that you pretty much stop questioning the strip’s visual conventions, even those conventions were laid down years before you started reading and you’re never quite sure where they came from in the first place.

Take the clothes that the cavemen of B.C. wear, for instance. I guess they’re supposed to be kind of a loincloth thing? At one point they involved a shoulder strap of some sort, but now they’re just a black strip around the waist area. Johnny Hart no doubt came up with the character design fairly early in the strip run and then promptly stopped thinking about it. However, now his grandson is in charge and is playing around with things, which involves forcing us to contemplate the fact that the cavemen’s dangly bit are on full display under these “suits,” which, thanks a lot, I think I’d like to go back to the unchanging nostalgia now.

Gil Thorp, 6/13/11

Ha ha, look at how angry Gil is in panel two! He may not have given a crap when sinister Hobart threatened to slash school budgets and lay off most of his co-workers, but when people start talking about his drinking problem and his inappropriate fraternization with students, well, that’s when things get ugly.

Slylock Fox, 6/13/11

This is pretty much one of the most hilariously depressing Slylock Foxes ever. “Sorry Max, your idea is flawed due to your fundamental inability to grasp basic thermodynamics. What? No, I don’t have a better idea. All these candles are going to melt and and this poor lady is going to go bankrupt! Well, we really should be going.”

Marvin, 6/13/11

While I can’t blame Marvin’s family for turning to illegal drugs to deal with the fact that they’re related to Marvin, I’d have guessed that they’d go for alcohol or other depressants, which would dull the pain if only temporarily. But Jeff clearly finds that coke or speed or something along those lines helps him cope, and who am I to judge?

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Mark Trail, 6/12/11

Do you hear that, Young People? Mark Trail is on to you, and your inveterate littering. And he has hard data proving that today’s kids are the worst, supplied by independent scientific researchers who were not at all biased by the massive grant that they received from the Foundation For Extolling The Virtues Of The Elderly And Demonizing Anyone Born After 1968. Why, look at that young punk in the final panel, who, following the latest hip youth craze that he got from the Internet or FM radio or whatever, has driven out the forest just so he can dump garbage everywhere. Fortunately for justice, Mark learned from yesterday’s strip how to impale a man with a word balloon, and so that pile of trash will be the last thing this miscreant ever sees.

Beetle Bailey, 6/12/11

The throwaway panels from today’s strip contain material for a cheap “Beetle refuses to submit to Sarge’s advances on the Lord’s Day” joke, but I’m more intrigued by the action in the main sequence of the strip. Sgt. Lugg’s advice that Sarge use “a little humor” has failed spectacularly, mostly because Sarge, inhabiting as he does the laffs-free Beetle Bailey universe, has no idea what “humor” could possibly be like.

Crankshaft, 6/12/11

Oh, look, Crankshaft is an architectural critic now! Note the use of italics: Crankshaft the strip is cracking wise about post-modernist architecture; Crankshaft the character is just sitting sullenly on the couch watching the television trash Frank Gehry. Because much as the strip’s creators might want to criticize Gehry’s work, they realize that Crankshaft having an opinion that couldn’t be expressed as some wildly inappropriate pun would be way too out of character for the readers to handle.

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Mark Trail, 6/11/11

We interrupt this 100 percent laughable police work (“Moccasins, eh? You know who wears moccasins? Weird mountain men! I seen it on the TV!”) to say a few words in memory of this noble mountain goat. He was innocently attempting to leap dramatically from crag to crag, as is the wont of his species, when he was brutally impaled by an errant word balloon and pinned to the sky like a bug in an entomologist’s collection. He deserved a better fate and will be missed.

Mary Worth, 6/11/11

Remember, everyone, Mary thinks that the best way to deal with these sorts of “delicate matters” is to bully the poor lovestruck delusional soul until he or she is driven to suicide, which explain why she’s stroking her chin like a sinister supervillain in panel two.

Family Circus, 6/11/11

Normally I don’t want to see any kind of bodily fluids dripping from any member of the noxious Keane clan, but I have to admit that I’m rather enjoying the sight of sweaty, exhausted Billy. It summons up a vision of him dressed in his fancy tennis clothes and hitting the ball again and again into the net, growing increasingly frustrated and saddened at his own incompetence, which I frankly find hilarious.