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Mary Worth, 6/7/08

Oh, it’s “grassroots political activism,” is it? I think Mary is starting to realize that Ron’s silver hair and electric blue suit disguise an America-hating leftist. Their date will probably end with Ron hurling a brick through the window of the local Starbucks and spray-painting SMASH THE IMF across the front of the local bank.

I probably shouldn’t assume that the word “grassroots” only applies to one end of the political spectrum, though. It’s also possible that Ron is the head of the “Keep Santa Royale White” campaign — which, from the look of things, has been pretty darn successful so far.

Hi and Lois, 6/7/08

“It is, however, Afghanistan. That’s why my wife wasn’t able to talk directly to a man she isn’t related to, but needed to stay in the women’s quarters in the back of the house while I came out and told you to leave.”

Herb and Jamaal, 6/7/08

Man, as if I needed confirmation of my basic misanthropy, I now have as evidence the involuntary giggle that arose when Jamaal, having been isolated from interactions with his fellow humans by modern life, slipped in the earbuds and let the music from his iPod that popular MP3 music player that everyone’s talking about bring him to a state of emotionally neutral, heavy-lidded numbness.

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Apartment 3-G, 6/6/08

Reasons why Margo might have the Wedding March set as her phone’s ringtone:

• She’s read the The Secret and now believes she can make a marriage proposal happen by sheer force of will; thus, she surrounds herself with wedding-related media at all times.
• That ringtone indicates a phone call from her hapless assistant Sam, who’s been left in charge of her now largely forgotten wedding planning business. He’s probably calling for help about yet another peacock-related disaster.
• That ringtone’s been assigned to Eric, about whom Margo finally stopped caring about five minutes ago. He’s using his satellite phone to make his one phone call from the police station allowed by Chinese law before he has his organs harvested, but Margo’s decided to fall for Jack’s brushcut charms instead.

(By the way, that strip with Sam in it that I linked to above is more than a year old, and Margo is already boasting about her imminent engagement! So sad, so sad.)

Mary Worth, 6/6/08

“That’s right, Mary! Now that my mother’s literal dead weight is no longer holding me back, I’m someone of stature and consequence in this town! That woman in the hideously patterned shirt … that intellectual snob, out reading in public … why, I could have either of them thrown in jail, their lives destroyed, as easy I can clench my right fist, like so! I’ll be ordering you the house Chianti at La Rosa, but I won’t be drinking any; I’m already drunk with power!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/6/08

“No way, man! You’ll pry my filthy, soiled wrestling mats from my cold, dead, MRSA-infected hands!”

Slylock Fox, 6/6/08

Cowboy one is out of his mind on mescaline; cowboy three is taking a “spirit journey” thanks to peyote; cowboys two and four are tweaking on good, old-fashioned meth.

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Family Circus, 6/5/08

A discussion about the nature of eternity, set against a blank, featureless void: behold the beginning of the transformation of the Family Circus into Existential Despair Comics.

Mark Trail, 6/5/08

“No! When Kelly took my pictures, she made me do things and touched me and it made me feel funny and bad! I MUST PROTECT THE ANIMALS!”

Gil Thorp, 6/5/08

“I mean, he’s still a total douche, so by all means carry on with the assault; I just can’t stand to see a savage beatdown conducted under false pretenses. It cheapens it, you know?”

Spider-Man, 6/5/08

“That’s my wife! The only thing she cares about more than my health is money, and the things you can buy with money.”

Pluggers, 6/5/08

Oh man, that plume of noxious smoke is just the delicious icing on the “fuck you, hippies”-flavored cake.