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Apartment 3-G, 6/13/08

My God, everyone who identified Alan’s cylindrical “crack pipe” as a Pixy Stick was right!

Dick Tracy, 6/13/08

Yes, there’s certainly nothing that says “the inner city” like one of those curvy Sherlock Holmes-style pipes.

Family Circus, 6/13/08

I guess we should all be thankful that Jeffy’s strict religious upbringing has kept the word “nipple” out of his vocabulary.

Mary Worth, 6/13/08

“And I wasn’t attractive, I was radiant.”

Momma, 6/13/08

Francis + Momma + “I’d have that box filled every day” = NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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Apartment 3-G, 6/12/08

And with “Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to kill your buzz,” the Incredible True Adventures Of Two Intensely Dorky Crackheads In Love (With Crack) officially becomes my favorite non-Margo Apartment 3-G storyline ever. I’m also particularly fond of “Slow down, Haley. I’m too high to think right now.” It’s the periods that really give the dialog the crazed urgency of the drug fiend so addled that he can barely construct a coherent sentence.

Dick Tracy, 6/12/08

The current Dick Tracy storyline is so moronic even by this strip’s standards that I refuse to expend precious energy typing out a summary, but I do want to draw your attention to the “Police Pod Squad” narration box or sign or whatever in the first panel. If all of the cops in Dick Tracy were secretly alien replicants spawned from enormous green space pods that plummeted to Earth from beyond the moon, it would actually explain a lot.

Marmaduke, 6/12/08

Ha ha, they gave Marmaduke a lunch box! It’s as if he’s heading off to his day job as a huge, barking, drooling, nuisance who everybody hates.

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Mary Worth, 6/11/08

Is today’s panel two the most unintentionally mirth-inducing Mary Worth moment since “my very own meth lab”? It’s sure got a lot going for it. First of all, there’s the idea that Mary and/or Ron are being followed at all times by paparazzi determined to catch them canoodling sexily at one of Santa Royale’s swankiest midscale ethnic restaurants. I mean, obviously Santa Royale is the most boring city in America, but surely it can’t be so boring that the dining life of newly appointed/elected town councilmen is front page news, or any page news. Are there no zoning disputes? Are there no kittens caught in trees? Couldn’t those column inches be more productively filled with classified advertising, or legal notices?

Then there’s Jeff’s palpable and hilarious outrage. He just spent a whole series of strips arguing with Mary because she was going to blow off date night with him to go spend time with another man, and here he has photographic proof that … she spent time with the man she said she was going to spend time with! I’d say that he’s really upset about the public humiliation, but I can’t imagine that anything could be more publicly humiliating than being Mary Worth’s asexual not-boyfriend.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/11/08

I really had to go back and look carefully at the first panel of this strip and see that there was a rubber glove lying idly on the toolbench, because for a moment I thought that Ellie had torn off one of her own hands and hurled it at her lazy husband in a fit of rage.

Herb and Jamaal, 6/11/08

Ha, it’s funny because (choose one):

• Herb’s wife has a terrible substance abuse problem and Herb needs to keep that $1,800 from going up her nose.
• Herb has a terrible gambling problem and wants to play that $1,800 at the greyhound track before his wife fritters it away on groceries and health insurance.
• Herb’s wife is not allowed to watch TV or read the newspaper or go online, so she has no idea what this “stimulus check” of which you speak is.

Crankshaft, 6/11/08

I suppose this is supposed to be some kind of store window display, but I really, really want to believe that Crankshaft’s daughter, desperate to find something that will keep her belligerent, disoriented father entertained, has taken him to a peep show that either has been cleaned up for family newspaper or is catering to a very specific fetish. Of course, if that were the case he’d be saying, “I guess that’s what you’d call ‘Socks in the City.'”