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Blondie, 12/4/07

Ha ha! Dagwood got distracted by a giant weiner!

No, really. He did. That’s how they spell it on the damn weiner, too.

Curtis, 12/4/07

I haven’t read Cosby’s book, but I share the opinion of copy editing guru Bill Walsh that its title really, really needs a comma between “on” and “people”.

Mark Trail, 12/4/07

Hmm … motive … opportunity … bullet came from his rifle … has anyone considered the possibility that Johnny is, you know, actually guilty? HE HAS A MUSTACHE, PEOPLE! DO I HAVE TO DRAW YOU A DIAGRAM?

Marmaduke, 12/4/07

Marmaduke’s owners are about to find themselves ankle-deep in urine.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/4/07

NNNGGHGGNGNGNNNGGGGH

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Fans of They’ll Do It Every Time know all about the Urge, that unnamable impulse that drives the urged to visit some horrible act of violence — usually something along the lines of skinning alive or burning to death — upon the perpetrator of whatever minor transgression is the subject of that day’s installment. Sometimes it’s the urge to e-mail someone to the moon; sometimes it’s the urge to pan-fry his hide; and sometimes, it’s just an undifferentiated and all-encompassing urge. In TDIET, the urge is denoted by a helpful label and an arrow pointing to the urged individual — but how can you let the world know that you have the urge? Why, with one of these awesome shirts designed by faithful reader monsieurjohn, obviously!

Don’t be shy about showing the world your urges! Order one today! I think these will be really fun for taking pictures in with the wearer in some TDIET-esque situation, so I urge you to please do that! And, as always, there are other kinds of merchandise I can add this graphic to, so please let me know if what you’re looking for isn’t available.

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Gil Thorp, 12/3/07

“Yeah, we could probably test it at Tilden … by why not just keep failing spectacularly with the offense that was terrible before we stopped practicing it? Since we already have no chance to make the playdowns, there’s no point in having fun or trying hard in any of our remaining games. A healthy diet of humiliation will have our boys all the more eager to pull their half-assed Wing T trickery against Valley Tech!”

Meanwhile… Marty Moon suddenly realizes the free press’s obligation to challenge the Putinesque dictatorship of Coach Thorp’s athletic administration. Unfortunately, he’s eight weeks behind teenaged dim bulbs Howard and Tony in mining the Google for useful anti-Gil ammunition. Presumably old-school radio man Marty usually avoids the Web and has been waiting for this whole “Internet” fad to blow over, but recently discovered that you can buy booze there.

Apartment 3-G, 12/3/07

Dizziness … giddiness … elevated heart rate … shortness of breath … Nurse Thompson carefully reviewed the symptoms in her mind, thinking back to her medical training to try to come up with a correct diagnosis. Could it have been the one syndrome that wasn’t in her dusty textbooks: sexual arousal? Or maybe it was an asthma attack. Yes, that seemed more likely.

Funky Winkerbean, 12/3/07

That right there, if I’m guessing correctly, is Mopey Pete, erstwhile persecuted high school dork and comics artist, spurned by best friend Darrin when the latter started dating a hot girl. According to Funkywinkerbean.com, post-time-jump Pete is now a successful writer for Marvel Comics. For what purpose has he returned to WinkerLand? I imagine that he’s breathing in the heady smell of Montoni’s pizza before he walks into the restaurant and starts unloading ammunition into everyone who ever wronged him.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/3/07

“You sit over there, under daddy’s whore picture. That’s the whore chair. For whores like you.”