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Ahh, Friday evening — must be time for your COTW:

“Jeffy’s stoop-moping has now become one of his trademark characteristics, along with ‘pantlessness’ and ‘abject lack of charm.'” –Cooler King

And your runners up! Also hilarious!

“I believe science has demonstrated that Thel’s neck would snap like a twig under the weight of Jeffy, The Prince of Pudge. Hell, I’m surprised she can wear a hat without collapsing.” –boojum

“So, basically, here’s the way the Mary Worth plot will play out: Mary will be choking to death on a fish bone, and Jeff’s digital electronic e-Book computerized reader will contain some document that explains the Heimlich maneuver. After her life is saved by the Booktronic Computome Digibook, she’ll renounce her former dislike of machines and marry a blender.” –Kibo

“Here we see four comics, all using the same limited color palette, but somehow only Mary Worth manages to be completely nauseating.” –Ethan Shuster

“I fear that the Mary-Jeff interaction is going to be held up as the model for interpersonal disagreements on the adoption of new technologies, and that we’re about to see a more dysfunctional way to be a Luddite. It’s Wilbur, so perhaps he’ll eat Dawn’s oversized smartphone in a sandwich, while moping.” –Aviatrix

“One problem is that this alleged high school [in Luann] has always only had about a dozen students, tops. Introducing an actual new student seems to be an extremely lengthy and painful process, kinda like giving birth to a Volkswagen. Quill is very lucky to exist.” –Poteet

“‘LOL! ROFL! Epic fail!’ hoots Wilbur in an attempt to connect with his ‘net-savvy’ daughter, then goes back to eating his expired cling peaches in brine.” –new_squid_in_town

“Oh no, my daughter is addicted to her smart phone! Stay calm, Wilbur. She needs you right now! Step one is to finish dinner: cramming these orange globs down my throat as fast as possible, by hand if necessary!” –Black Drazon

“If you look carefully, you’ll notice that Crock’s fort (I have no idea if it has an actual name) is flying the white flag of surrender. The French Foreign Legion has capitulated to the Tunisian revolt, and Poulet’s last act before shipping back to France is to try and find a book in French — ANY book — to keep his mind occupied on the long journey home. Sadly, all the writings of the foreigners have been burned.” –Just Some Guy

“Maybe the Crock author is ready to roll out his own home-brewed language, and is trying to first discredit our current one using shaming tactics.” –The Other One

“‘Well, Loweezy, I can think of another way you can pay those bills.’ Cue the wacka-wacka background music … or banjo music … or wacka-wacka banjo music.” –Pozzo

“Dawn’s relationship with her father may actually deepen if limited to 140 character communications. Is more really needed to discuss sandwiches and nothingness?” –VochoCinco

“How expensive could a jar of leeches possibly be?” –James

“Listen to your father, Dawn. Both as the target of a Facebook paternity fraud scam and an advice columnist who answers anonymous letters while pretending to be a lady, Wilbur know a thing or two about connecting with real people.” –Violet

Big thanks to everyone who put cash in my tip jar! And we must of course give thanks to our advertisers:

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Mary Worth, 2/4/11

OHHH BURN! Poor Wilbur’s main experience with social networking is Facebook, with its ethos of mutuality: if you’re Facebook friends with someone, they too will be Facebook friends with you. He’s not prepared for the harsh world of Twitter, where following someone doesn’t guarantee that they’ll follow you back, leaving you in a subservient position. Dawn’s refusal to follow her father is harsh, but ultimately makes sense; how many times can you see the #sandwich and #mayonnaise hashtags in your feed before you feel kind of ill?

But before Wilbur can follow his daughter, he has to figure out which Dawn Weston Twitter account is her! Is it:

• westonda, who announced in April of 2009 that she was watching Dancing With The Stars, and hasn’t been heard from since?
• dweston29, who 18 months ago was “NEW TO THIS TWITTER THING BUT THINK ITS NEAT,” then went with her sister to a cake testing, where, as far as we know, she still remains, tasting cakes?
• DawnWeston, who hides her tweets from the world and identifies herself as “Dr. Dawn Weston,” possibly in an attempt to one-up her erstwhile lover Dr. Drew?

I dunno, I have a strange feeling that another Dawn Weston Twitter account is going to appear in the next day or so. Just a hunch!

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 2/4/11

Particularly unsettling in today’s Snuffy Smith: the disconnect between art (“Aw, it’s fun havin’ some banter with yer doctor! We kid because we love!”) and dialogue (“I’m being crushed financially by these high medical bills! The stress is seriously exacerbating my health problems!”).

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Funky Winkerbean, 2/3/11

In linguistic matters, I am a firm descriptivist rather than a prescriptivist. I believe that many grammatical rules waved about by pedants are poppycock based on Victorian-era grammarians who wanted to make English more like Latin. I also know that all languages slowly change in both grammar and vocabulary — if this weren’t so, we’d all be talking like Shakespeare, or we’d be able to read Beowulf in the original — and fighting against such change is pointless. Still, there are certain neologisms that set me off, and one of them is “quality” used as a synonym for “good.” My old roommate had this same reaction when people used “luck” to mean “good luck,” which I found hilariously overwrought, and I recognize that this is essentially the same linguistic phenomenon, and yet here I am, wanting to strangle Les, even more so than usual. I guess I just associate this use of “quality” with soulless corporate prose, and assumed that as an Important Writer Person Les would reject it with great smugness. I mean, there’s a gas station near where I live that has a huge sign that reads “QUALITY IS NOT AN OPTION — EXPECT IT,” which never fails to make me laugh, and I guess I’m discovering that my standards for Les are a little higher.

In other news, grad school-era Les was some kind of leering, sideburned megalomaniac, and it’s actually rather shocking that Ronnie bothered to seek him out.

Crock, 2/3/11

Since I relentlessly slam on Crock for being unfunny and terribly drawn, I feel obliged to admit that today’s installment actually made me laugh. I kind of love everything about it, from Preppie’s horrified nose-wobbling to the ugly dog’s smug post-obscene-gesture smirk in the final panel. I’m always fascinated by the fact that taboo words or gestures that cannot be depicted in mass media can be described or otherwise conveyed such that the reader knows exactly what’s been censored, like when only the vowels of swear words are blanked out on the radio. Probably the strip would be wholly incapable of depicting a dog giving “the paw” in a way that makes any kind of visual sense, but today at least that weakness is turned into a strength.

Judge Parker, 2/3/11

I dearly hope that our hitherto unseen sexy home-wrecking publicist is at the door, mangled, broken, still wearing her hospital gown, and trailing an IV behind her; she’s come to aggressively mate with a married author, as stipulated in Cheatham House’s standard contract. It would also be funny if that knocking were actually being produced by a woodpecker — a giant, sexy woodpecker.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/3/11

Berna, you don’t know the half of it! Look at those stitches across the top of his head — it looks like Dex finally got that brain surgery he always wanted!

B.C., 2/3/11

“Also, describe in graphic detail how his chitinous exoskeleton will shatter the moment the needle hits it!”

Panel from Mary Worth, 2/3/11

I used to love the Internet as well, but with this vision of Internet-apology swimming before me, all untrimmed fingernails and wobbly combed-over hair, I think I’ll destroy all electronic equipment in my house forever. Well played, Mary Worth!