Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 9/27/07

“Here, Margo, you might want to ‘amuse yourself’ over here by my desk. Right in front of this Webcam, which is totally not at all turned on and connected to the Internet. Have fun! Heh heh, ‘twiddle my thumbs’…”

Dick Tracy, 9/27/07

So as far as I know, in a D.C. context “the Rotunda” is the space under the big dome thingie in the middle of the Capitol building, which means that Gretchen just suicide-bombed (is there an active verb form of “suicide bomber?”) Congress, eliminating the legislative branch, throwing the U.S. government into chaos, and presumably ushering in an “emergency regime” that will last indefinitely and be fronted by Dick Tracy, a well-known authoritarian sadist. This will definitely be more interesting than the last few weeks of this strip, which mostly consisted of aimless driving around.

Gil Thorp, 9/27/07

Marty Moon’s days of drunken debauchery must have been a lot wilder than I thought, because it looks like he lost an eye when someone attacked him in a bar fight with a broken bottle. He’s so excited by the Mudlarks’ late-game collapse, he hasn’t even noticed that his glass eye is veering wildly to the right.

Luann, 9/27/07

Never mind the little spat over who gets to be TJ’s “partner”; doesn’t it smell kind of fishy that Brad, an employee of the Fire Department, will be helping secure a no-bid, taxpayer-underwritten contract with said Fire Department for the catering business that he’s secretly moonlighting for? The whole sordid deal will climax with eight weeks of hearings before the city council’s Ethics Subcommittee, at the end of which you will be begging for a return to the “Luann and Bernice fight about Ben” storyline.

Marmaduke, 9/27/07

Is anyone else as creeped out by the name of this butcher’s shop as I am? It’s like, instead of a storeroom or walk-in freezer at the back of the store, there’s just an entrance to a cave. A cave full of meat.

One Big Happy, 9/27/07

It’s been well established that One Big Happy’s Joe is ignorant, and willfully so. Today he’s covering his face in a desperate attempt to block out new knowledge of any sort. This must be heartbreaking to his father, who loves learning so much that he’s chosen to subscribe to the premium digital cable package just so he can get the Algebra Channel.

Post Content

B.C., 9/26/07

…or like fish, right? Because the whole “tastes like chicken” joke is about exotic animals that people don’t usually eat, you see, and at root it’s based on the fact that chicken is fairly bland, as is most meat from small-ish animals, and it’s just that chicken is the kind of small-ish animal we eat the most. And fish, by contrast, actually have a really distinctive flavor … and he’s eating a fish … and the joke would have worked just as well if the punchline had been “…it sure tastes great” or something along those lines … and … and … AAAAARRRGGGH!

Ahem. To say something nice, I sort of like Clumsy’s crudely drawn but effectively harrowing look of profound horror in the final panel. I also think it’s amusing that Curls has taken his first bite of delectable Dorsellectus Illusivii out of the fish’s head. (Addendum: OH GOD I KNOW THE NAMES OF B.C. CHARACTERS WITHOUT LOOKING THEM UP PLEASE KILL ME NOW)

Hi and Lois, 9/26/07

“Now, Trixie, don’t forget, Daddy and I have decided that you will stay a perfect porcelain doll, untouched by the dangerous rays of the sun throughout your sheltered life. Don’t make me put you in the barrel again!”

Pluggers, 9/26/07

Pluggers … let their children play in feces? Wow, there’s really not much I can add to this one. I would like to point out, though, that cats like to shit in sandboxes generally. Brightly colored sandboxes in the postage-stamp-sized backyards of yuppie-hipster rowhouses in Park Slope; huge, multi-level sand-based environments in the acres behind McMansions in Northern Virginia; or sand-filled tires in the trash-strewn lots of Pluggerville, USA: cats will do their business in any of them. Thus, I can only assume that the poop angle was added here to give someone a perverse thrill. You are sick, sir or madam, sick!

Shoe, 9/26/07

OK, if you’ve worked for a newspaper for years and frequently cover political stories and still don’t know the length of your town’s mayoral term, you no longer get to call yourself “Perfesser.” I don’t care if it’s whimsically misspelled. This sort of thing quite frankly makes me rethink my opinions on media consolidation. If Gannett bought the Treetops Tribune (or whatever the hell it’s called; I’M NOT LOOKING IT UP YOU CAN’T MAKE ME) and outsourced all of the local reporting to a journalism compound in Bangalore, at least those guys would know how to look up the answer on Wikipedia.

Post Content

Hey kids! Before we launch into today’s comics, I need to back up a bit, because I didn’t give credit where it was due yesterday. Seems that Monday’s TDIET was submitted by faithful reader Klipper an his wife, better known no doubt as Zoe‘s parents!

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/24/07

It’s OK, Klipper! You can just get up and change the channels with the little buttons on the TV set itself, you know. No need to cuss. Kudos on the green plaid pants, by the way — most people wouldn’t have the nerve to pull that off.

And now on to today!

Archie, 9/25/07

Ignoring the glaring problem with the dates (perhaps the AJGLU 3000 refuses to embrace the papist conspiracy that is the so-called “Gregorian calendar”?), I am quite pleased by the vision of these four teens lined up at the Learning Bar, each with an iconic symbol of their favorite summer activity, to wit:

• Jughead: Surfing.
• Archie: Naked basketball.
• Betty: Being carried aloft on a litter by a team of manservants, one of whom is extra-hunky and shielding her from the hot sun with a fringed umbrella of the type employed the by the queens of the Orient in days of yore.
• Veronica: Putting on her cleverest disguise and prowling the night as the Black Cat, Riverdale’s greatest — and sexiest — rug thief!

Mary Worth, 9/25/07

“Mary, please don’t say ‘I told you so…'” HA HA HA HA HA HA

Poor Drew! He’s managed to botch relationships with two perfectly nice women, he has to go admit to his father’s awful not-girlfriend that she was right, and if this little couch scene is any indication, he probably just walked in on a little Dr. Jeff-Mary make-out time. So in panel two, he’s responding the only way he knows how: by shrugging the most epic shrug that human shoulders have ever attempted. I mean, look at that thing. He’s even putting his knees into it. He’s going to need some long hours at the chiropractor afterwards, but his form is so perfect, it’ll totally be worth it.

Luann, 9/25/07

Actual, not-made-up discussion my wife and I had last night as we were falling asleep:

Me: Hey, does TJ have a job or anything?

Her: He’s a vest salesman! …no, a vest model.

TJ apparently only uses his snazzy sweater vests as formalwear, though: when he’s cooking for his hard-working man, he wears a more casual black button-up white collared number. Today, Brad suggests that his friend might make some extra money by serving as the firehouse’s sexual plaything, a proposal that’s not being dismissed out of hand. Oh, TJ! You’ll do anything to avoid getting a real job!

Apartment 3-G, 9/25/07

Yeah, you know, “family matters.” Like in junior high, when they separated the boys and the girls and showed them filmstrips about “family matters.”

True Margo-watchers know what that vibrating index finger presages. Eric and Nora need to get down on the floor now and cover their heads with their arms if they want to have any hope of coming out of this with their pretty faces intact.