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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.

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The Phantom, 6/4/08

So for the past few days, the Ghost-Who-Is-Pretty-Darn-Ripped and his wife have been strutting around in various states of undress on an abandoned oil platform somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, for no reason that you need to worry your pretty little heads about other than that it provides an opportunity for hot superhero-on-diplomat action. This has no doubt been delightful to faithful reader Bootsy, who can’t get enough of that stripey, stripey ass. Today’s strip is particularly hilarious in the stripey ass department, as we see that the Phantom sleeps in his stripey briefs and purple tights, though he lets his manly, muscled (and, if the final panel is any indication, nippleless) torso breathe.

Mary Worth, 6/4/08

About a year ago, I was forced to contemplate a question: Is there anything more vile than watching Vera and Dr. Drew have phone sex on bland and hideously colored sheets? At the time, I said “no”, obviously, but I now know that watching Mary and Ron have phone sex on bright and hideously colored upholstery is worse. KEEP THOSE HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM, YOU TWO.

Crankshaft, 6/4/08

By the look of glum despair on the balding green-shirted dude’s face, I’m guessing that this isn’t the first Crankshaft trademarked misanthropic witticism he’s had to endure during his 40+ minute wait in the security line.

Apartment 3-G, 6/4/08

Oh, Alan! That’s not “petty cash,” that’s Margo’s coke fund. She likes the powdered stuff, because unlike you she is classy, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be assaulting you like a crazed basehead when she realizes what you’ve done.

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Blondie, 6/4/08

Wait … is Dagwood supposed to be an office manager? Is … is that the joke? Because he often deals with “accounts” and makes presentations to clients for Dithers Enterprises, which isn’t something that office managers do, I don’t think. Or is he just taking offense at criticism of lazy incompetents on general principles? Or does he find it hard to relax because his co-chatter is talking about work? DAMN IT DAGWOOD YOU BROUGHT IT UP.

Anyway, I refuse to believe that Dagwood would just be spending time on random chat rooms. If he were to frequent any Web site, I’m pretty sure that it would be this.

Luann, 6/3/08

Comics about Brad’s sex life: Distasteful.

Comics about Brad’s fetishistic shaving-based sex life: NGGGNGGGNGNGH