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Slylock Fox, 7/6/08

Never mind Count Weirdly’s unnecessarily complex plastic-ice-cube-based alibi for his rather pedestrian Best Buy theft. How could the callous Count have left his menagerie of beasties alone without fresh food and water during his long trip? Whatever food the fish and the vulture were left with has been reduced to mere bones, and the hairy thing in the cage appears to just be urinating all over the floor. I don’t even want to think about how long it’s been since the brain in the jar has been watered. Perhaps Weirdly’s pointless computer crime was just an elaborate, roundabout way to get Slylock and Max to come and feed his pets, or possibly be eaten by them.

I love the aging hippie in the Six Differences. Perhaps he’s taking his grandson on a tour of America’s diners, his aging psychedelic van still blaring “Freedom Rock” out of the 8-track player as they roam our nation’s byways.

For Better Or For Worse, 7/6/08

Grandma Marion is learning the sad truth about the comics afterlife: despite the fact that you no doubt remember yourself as the ravishing young bride who actually wore the dress that you’re ectoplasmically helping to mend, you instead only get to come back as aged and potato-nosed. You’re also wearing an apron, because even in the Great Beyond, you’re expected to cook.

Funky Winkerbean, 7/6/08

The muscle-flexing, mustachioed cop in the next-to-last panel seriously led me to believe that this was the set-up for some kind of gay erotica. Since it involves the cast of Funky Winkerbean, it would be part of an extremely specific genre known as “mope porn.”

Mary Worth, 7/6/08

Speaking of mope porn … wow, Dr. Jeff has sure reached some kind of horrifying nadir of self-abasement. Will every man who lusts after Mary’s sensibly clad bod have his will broken before he can be truly worthy of her love? Aldo’s rough wooing was action of a sort, and though it led to his humiliation and horrible death, at least he didn’t spend his time slouching around the house drunkenly thought-ballooning at her picture.

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/6/08

“Clam down” is going to be my new all-purpose reaction to people who sound like crazy men. If they are actually crazy, it’ll freak the hell out of them. “CLAM DOWN, MAN! CLAM DOWN! OYSTER! CLAM CLAM! BIVALVE!”

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Dennis the Menace, 7/5/08

This is today’s Dennis the Menace! It’s about the Mitchells’ dog urinating all over the back seat of their car.

Garfield, 7/5/08

This is today’s Garfield! It’s about Jon stepping in excrement.

Shoe, 7/5/08

This is today’s Shoe! It’s about a horny, horny bird-lady.

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Family Circus, 7/4/08

232 years ago today, the leaders of the British colonies on the east coast of the American continent took a fateful step, authorizing a Declaration of Independence that would make their fractious home states into a new nation. If the corpses of the men who had been present that day in Philadelphia were revived through some sort of voodoo magic, what would they think of the country they had made? If “pleasure” was an emotion that could penetrate into their monstrous undead souls, they would probably be pleased that their descendants were spending the day goofing off from work, eating huge quantities of meat, and firing off weapons-grade munitions (or, in some places, actual weapons).

But if their mouldering, skeletal fingers were to turn to the funny pages, their empty eye sockets would come to rest on today’s Family Circus, and then their rotting, unbeating hearts would be filled with the one feeling we all know to be possible for zombies: rage. Because the flag is there, and the notes are there, but shouldn’t Dolly be adorably mangling our national anthem (“And the rock heads will blare/ The mom’s purse strings are there”) or some other patriotic ditty (“For space and skies/ For Pam’s full plate of grain”), and not some pestilent tune about picking up male prostitutes on the Jersey seashore or whatever the hell it is she’s singing? What I’m trying to say is, if you see a shuffling mob of undead patriots in moldy powdered wigs attempting to eat the brains of the degenerates who currently live in the country they started, don’t come crying to me.

Apartment 3-G, 7/4/08

I suppose Gabriella is fainting because, as an ethnic, she’s tuned into the spirit world and can thus detect the ghostly/demonic presence that lingers over Lu Ann’s paintings. But I’m hoping that she stumbled on to Alan’s stash.