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Apartment 3-G, 8/20/10

“Going soft?” Bite your tongue, Lu Ann! Margo isn’t freaking out about getting her hair cut because, unlike you, she hasn’t linked her sense of self-worth to something frivolous and external like a hairstyle. Margo knows that hairdos come and hairdos go, but that whatever happens to her hair, nobody can touch her heart, her core. Margo will always be Margo. Her self cannot be harmed by whatever silly makeover plans Kat and Kitty have in store.

She also sees the hair-styling portion of the show as a great opportunity for escape: all she has to do is grab a pair of scissors and stab her way out.

Crock, 8/20/10

What if you wrote a comic strip that nobody, not even your editors, read or cared about? Would you keep dutifully churning out the lame jokes, day after day, so long as the checks kept clearing? Or would you grow resentful and eventually just replace the dialogue with banal non-sequiturs, just to see if anybody noticed?

Mary Worth, 8/20/10

“And if one of the bums I interrogated didn’t know anything, I made ’em switch clothes with me. That might seem strange to you, kid, but I was on the street, and I had to live my life by the codes of the street. And those codes say that when a man doesn’t help you with your vengeance mission, he forfeits his right to his clothes. That’s how it works. On the street.”

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Mark Trail, 8/19/10

Oh, look, the hideous little girl in the current Mark Trail plot has named her new deer-pet “Lucky!” I’m pretty sure that most of the wild animals who are taken out of their natural habitat and forced to amuse their hideous human overlords end up being named “Lucky” — there was of course Lucky the Beaver, and I’m pretty sure an injured goose that Rusty adopted was given the same name — because the cruel god of Mark Trail has a nasty sense of humor.

Mary Worth, 8/19/10

Wow, did I ever underestimate this storyline! It seems that Dr. Mike’s dad was could never take Mike’s calls not because he is a sad, shame-filled drunk, but because his mission of savage revenge occupies his every waking moment. I absolutely love his determined striding away from his family in the panel two flashback — “Well, kid, you’ve had eight or so years to help me track down Richie’s killers, and you haven’t done a damn thing. I’m through with you!” His shaking and sweating in panel one is not a result of the DTs, but rather because he can barely contain his anxious need to go to some seedy underworld club and start busting heads until he gets answers.

Pluggers, 8/19/10

Oh, come now, we all know that the only thing pluggers hate and fear more than elitist college education is the Orient.

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Gil Thorp, 8/18/10

I feel like I’m turning into one of those old people who are always whining about how much better things used to be in the Old Days, when you could get drunk at lunch on weekdays and children were allowed to work in garment factories, but: summer used to mean something in Gil Thorp, man. It meant total madness. Remember 2007? Coach Kaz pimped himself out as a freelance badass and Gil taught a one-legged kid to box, in the same year? The seasons used to follow a predictable, stately rhythm: football, basketball, baseball/softball, lunacy.

But in 2010, this has now been downgraded to football, basketball, baseball/softball, golf. This summer hasn’t even had a hilarious b-plot to distract us from the annoying overbearing-father-cheating-on-golfing-son’s-behalf bull hockey we’ve been subjected to. Today’s the first time in nearly a month I’ve felt any compulsion to comment on the strip, and it’s just to note that Gil, having against all odds defeated the evil overbearing dad with his usual half-assed psychological warfare techniques, has decided to reward himself by getting blotto and watching the young people he’s ostensibly supposed to be coaching from the safe distance of the golf course’s clubhouse.

Mary Worth, 8/18/10

Wow, remember yesterday when I made a very silly and totally unrealistic joke about Richie getting gunned down in a drive-by? Well, it turns out that I can kill comics characters with my mind. Whom shall I mark for death next? Marvin? Brad DeGroot? Marvin and Brad in some kind of murder-suicide pact?