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Comment of the Week

I know somebody probably just woke her up but I'd be more interested in her as a character if Neddy waited until she was nice and cozy in bed because it soothes her to get Randy all agitated and that makes for a pleasant, restful sleep.

—Tabby Lavalamp
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Young Goodman Thorp

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Gil Thorp, 9/11/08

Thank goodness that the huge Satan-worshipping fire orgy that rings in Milford’s football season has now become an annual event. God only knows what exactly is burning in the background of panel one — probably the high school, or perhaps the entire neighborhood surrounding it — but I kind of love Gil standing on his makeshift platform exhorting his crazed minions to ever-higher levels of ecstatic bloodlust. You’ll note that at least one devotee of the flame is flashing some devil horns at the end of her jelly-braceleted arm, indicating her devotion to the archdemon Astaroth. The fact that Cully has been given temporal dominion over the football team is a sure sign of the carnage that will conclude the evening, as he fallaway slams the unwitting victims directly into the inferno, ensuring that the Dark Lord will smile on the Mudlarks this fall.

Mark Trail, 9/11/08

After much promise, the just concluded Kelly-versus-Cherry storyline rapidly declined into a total snoozefest, but I’m still holding out high hopes that we’ll get some action out of this modern day St. Francis, his adorable daughter, and their sinister raccoon familiar. So far our gentle baldy has cunningly used the passive voice to explain the plight of the thirsty, thirsty animals, noting only that the water is being “drained away.” Eventually, though, the little tyke will want to know who is doing the draining, and he’ll have to admit that it’s the humans, with their endless appetite for well-watered suburban lawns and Bed, Bath, and Beyond-bearing strip malls. Presumably the two of them will then silently watch the dehydrated beasts in panel two stumble around in the vicinity of their cabin for a bit; next, the raccoon will chitter menacingly, they’ll nod their heads in agreement, and the killing spree will begin.

Apartment 3-G, 9/11/08

Lu Ann is capable of such charming depths of self-deception that I was hoping she’d take her initial thought balloon to its logical conclusion. “Beer cans, wine bottles, and pizza boxes! It looks like a scene from a frat house movie. That’s it! Alan is allowing a major studio to use his apartment as a set for a frat house movie! It all makes sense now!” It would also explain the terrible state of the curtains; as any good set dresser knows, the stereotypical denizen of a frat house in a frat house movie is such a seething cauldron of homophobia that he would literally have a stroke if he attempted to contemplate window treatments.

Marmaduke, 9/11/08

I originally read this caption as “Why don’t you bury him in his own lawn chair?” Which you have to admit makes sense, as Marmaduke appears to be dead.

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Pizza joint OF THE GODS

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Funky Winkerbean, 9/10/08

The most ancient of the Greek gods, considered to be primordial and the ancestors of all the others, were Ouranos (the sky) and Gaia (the earth). They were married, but they quarreled, because Ouranos forced Gaia to keep their children (the Titans) chained up inside of her body. So she secretly freed one of her sons and had him castrate her husband with a flint sickle; one of his testicles landed in the sea, which resulted in the birth of Aphrodite.

These ancient myths, while disturbing and terrible, have an undeniable power and grandeur, which is distinctly lacking in this equally horrifying scene in which Les and Crazy banter awkwardly about children and sausage slicers.

Mark Trail, 9/10/08

Sign that I am a bad person number 279: I found it kind of amusing that this kindly dad dug a grave for a wild animal. Not that we actually see the grave-digging; is it possible that he forced his daughter to do it? “What’s happening, papa?” “It’s called death, sweetie, and it’s a perfect opportunity for you to learn a valuable life skill.”

Either way, it’s a bad precedent set; the landscape is way too green for me to buy his “drought” explanation. Will he bury all of the hundreds of animal corpses left by the experimental virus that has been accidentally released from the nearby secret government bioweaponry lab?

Apartment 3-G, 9/10/08

I love that Lu Ann, who apparently has the worst self-esteem in all of recorded history, is focusing on the skimpiness of this garment. Because if Alan were cheating on her with someone who wore chaste, high-collared shirts that she stripped off during a particularly sexual-tension-filled moment during their bible study meeting, that would be totally OK!

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1-900-HOTT-IAN

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Dennis the Menace, 9/9/08

Oh look, lovable scamp Dennis is up at three in the morning, watching … whatever show it is that features adorable bow-tie-wearing bunnies at three in the morning. Either it’s some ’70s kids’ show now being rebroadcast entirely for the benefit of stoners, or that rabbit is appearing only on the Mitchells’ television set, and it’s ordering Dennis to kill, in Aramaic.

Family Circus, 9/9/08

The fact that Dolly considers regurgitated worms to be “junk food” tells you all you need to know about what feeding time in the Keane Kompound is like. For deeper background on why Dolly is the way she is, consider the amount of ambient background radiation in the area necessary to produce the huge, lumpy bird-thing she’s spying through the window.

Gil Thorp, 9/9/08

Gil Thorp’s second hemi-century begins today in fine form, as we see Marty taping his weekly TV show. O Marty Moon, king of all media! Who was it who tousled your hair just so for your big TV appearance? Was it your team of professional stylists? Or was it you, alone, in your own bathroom, before you headed down to your basement, to sit in front of the “set” you fished out of the garbage behind the local CBS affiliate? And by “weekly TV show,” do you mean “insane seven-to-nine-minute drunken ramble about how Gil never wants to hang out with you that you upload to YouTube sporadically?” I think to ask the question is to know the answer.

Mary Worth, 9/9/08

“Hello? Hello? Wait, is this Ian Cameron’s hypnotically smooth and bulbous crotch, flanked on either side by lovingly detailed pants wrinkles around the groinal region? I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong number.”