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Gil Thorp, 6/6/09

It’s nice to see, with all the YouTubes and the Facebooks and the cardboard bikinis and the hey hey that the kids today will throw at an old stick-in-the-mud like Gil, he still knows how best to keep them in line: with good, old-fashioned physical abuse. Those who won’t die of heat stroke will surely grow to respect their tormentor, if by “respect” we mean “fear and loathe!” But, as Machiavelli once said, it’s better to be feared than loved, and they’ll sure love to fear Coach Thorp, as he and Kaz sit smugly by and enjoy their “lemonade” (is that a thermos or a fire extinguisher?).

Beetle Bailey, 6/6/09

Ha ha, it’s funny because Sarge spent a week walking around with rotting vegetables pressed up against the sweaty flesh of his midriff! And by “funny” I mean “a cry for help on the part of everyone involved in the publication of this comic.”

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Herb and Jamaal and Crankshaft, 6/5/09

I admit to regularly being irritated at or contemptuous towards Herb and Jamaal, but until today I don’t think I’ve ever been just outright puzzled. The stumbling point to me is that the strip appears to actually have two jokes in it — and this is not a feature that can spare the punchlines, if you get my drift. The first bit of ostensibly humorous material is that our Heart and Soul patron needs a “drink,” and so he orders … root beer, haw haw, it’s because, I don’t know, it’s unexpected? He’s young and/or a teetotaler? Anyway, once that bombshell’s been delivered, we still have two panels left to go, so we’ll wrap up with a “two heads are better than one” joke, which must only be conveyed via thought balloon, because it would be unrealistic for such a mind-blowingly hilarious bit to be actually spoken aloud. (Ordering a beverage with lots of foam on top is, of course, totally realistic.) All I can figure is that the root beer was originally supposed to be actual beer, but the fuddy-duddies at the syndicate balked at the notion of an adult attempting to relieve stress by consuming a wholly legal mild intoxicant. Won’t somebody think of the children?

Crankshaft, meanwhile, delivers the old lady laughs, as Grandma Rose attempts to use another wholly legal mild intoxicant to while away the time until the blessed release of death (and perhaps even speed up the process). Everyone else in the cast will love this, because it allows them to express judgmental horror, which is pretty much their entire reason for existence. I look forward to coming months when, already bored with smoking, Rose makes Ed drive her downtown to score some smack.

Marvin, 6/5/09

Let me tell you something: if this becomes some sort of Belly Laffs– or CrySpace-style multi-day epic, there will be consequences. At least we’ll be able to look forward to whatever cutesy name they come up with for it. My suggestion: “Poopin’ in a bowl!”

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Gil Thorp, 6/4/09

I’ll say this about the current Gil Thorp storyline: it’s managed, with a certain degree of skill, to keep you guessing as to what it’s about. With each new incident, it becomes clear that its dramatic ambit is wider than you think. It’s not just about dumb YouTube antics or underage drinking or Facebook or wacky locker-room pranks. At this point, the theme appears to be that teenagers are goofballs who make stupid decisions, and maybe you don’t want to create an electronic record of those decisions? (Though who knows, perhaps by next week the only unifying thread will be “all mortal existence is folly.”) Obviously that cell-phone photo of Molly will soon be circulated from giggling loser to giggling loser around the school, and she’ll be humiliated because there’s absolutely nothing more embarrassing than a picture of you hanging out with a bunch of your female friends in a not-particularly-revealing cardboard bikini. Molly will have no choice but to become a nun after the soft-carton-drink-bikini-sexting that’s about to ensue here. If only she’d learned from her incredibly dull boyfriend to avoid rowdiness at all costs!

My favorite person in this strip is actually the gal in the background in panel two, soaking up the imaginary approbation. “Yes, I helped fashion a pointless, non-functional bathing suit out of soda can boxes! Look at me, I’m just like Jesus!”

Mark Trail, 6/4/09

Wait, Mark couldn’t read the name of the company on the barrels when he was, you know, standing right in front of them, taking pictures of them, but he can read it now that he’s back at home and looking at the developed photos? Is he so committed to being a rugged outdoorsmen that, while out of doors, he refuses to display any non-rugged qualities, like literacy?