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Blondie, 8/29/07

Long-time Blondie readers have always marvelled at the uncanny resemblance between Dagwood’s neighbor/golf buddy/source of free tools Herb Woodley and mailman Mr. Beasley. The same face, the same bulging forehead, the same mustache. Could they be long-lost relatives? Was Herb actually the neighborhood mailman, assuming a new name and identity as he walked his route for inscrutable reasons of his own? Today, though, as his long-firmly-attached hat goes flying, we learn that, unlike Herb, Mr. Beasley in fact completely bald. It is a testament to the power of the comics and the long-running features within that this has completely blown my fucking mind. Cynic that I am, I can’t stop looking at his bare head.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/29/07

ha ha ha foolish girl no patterson is ever free

Mark Trail, 8/29/07

I’m beginning to suspect that Shirley the Duck has special powers, and I don’t just mean her stunning plumage, which has won her drag king competitions all over Lost Forest. No, first she somehow convinced the construction foreman to halt work on this extremely important mall, and now she’s working her sinister magic on the son of the big boss himself! As more and more people come within range of her mind-control rays, her army will grow larger and larger, until that mall finds itself transformed into a Shirleytarium, dedicated to her care, feeding, and worship. There will be bread crumbs. Many, many bread crumbs.

Slylock Fox, 8/29/07

Wow, that lion is pissed — and, really, can you blame him? Most doctors don’t even take their patients’ pulse themselves, and here some nosey freelance detective is getting Panthera Leo, M.D., to put his hard-earned medical skills to use to bust someone for stealing magazines from the waiting room. I think someone’s going to have some angry words with the managers of Medical Plaza. Presumably the only way to calm him down will be to allow him to eat Slick Smitty, whether he’s guilty or not.

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Hey, kids! Before we tackle today’s comics, we have to go back to yesterday’s TDIET:

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/27/07

Why this trip into the wayback machine? Well, it turns out that “the good daughter” is faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader TaxiGirl! She provides the real story behind this little drama:

In the interests of strict accuracy, my mother usually isn’t arranging a bridge meeting (I’m not sure if she’s ever played bridge in her life) — but “My mother demands that I call her back urgently … and then inevitably has to go to the bathroom as soon as she picks up the phone” apparently doesn’t suit this sort of a family feature.

The first panel, however, is right-on.

Sadly, this does not appear to give me “The Urge.”

I’m just amazed that Luluna’s phone is a wireless handset that could have actually been sold in a store in the last ten years.

And now on to today:

Baldo, 8/28/07

“Hello, there! We’re the cast of Baldo! We know that you normally turn to us for gentle humor about family life, teenagerhood, and the Latino experience in the United States. But did you know that we wouldn’t be able to bring you this enjoyable thirty seconds of the day if it weren’t for … newspapers? That’s right! They aren’t just repositories of day-old stories, stock prices you could look up on the Internet, news about city politicians you’ve barely heard of, and incomprehensible legal notices — they also keep cartoonists gainfully employed! So, for the love of God, please, keep subscribing to the damn newspaper! You don’t want Baldo’s creator to have to go back to a real job, do you?”

Funky Winkerbean, 8/28/07

And so the trip straight to the heart of death-flavored madness … begins! At first, I thought this might be a reference to that hospice cat that always seems to know when the patients are going to die, but clearly it’s seeking out Les, not Lisa. So it has a different kind of ability: namely, the ability to tell when someone is about to begin a booze-fueled descent into depression!

Also, it can talk, apparently? Yeah, sure, what the hell, why not.

Hi and Lois, 8/28/07

Not being a golfer myself, I use the comics as a sort of anthropological window into the golfing lifestyle, since so many comics artists seem to be obsessed with the game. For instance, it never occurred to me that you’d put on sunscreen to go play nine holes, though having read this of course that’s obvious. And it also never occurred to me that, if it were sunny enough to require sunscreen, you’d still leave on your ink-black, presumably wool suit, because they like formal attire on the course. And I never would have guessed that, if you skip out on work once in a while to do something you enjoy, you wouldn’t tell your wife, the person you’re ostensibly closest too, unless there was some other way that she’d find out. And finally, it was never so clear to me as it is now how “putting on sunscreen to play golf” would be a great cover for putting on sunscreen to go to a nude beach. The comics: so educational!

Pluggers, 8/28/07

Yup, ever since the Wal-Mart opened the next town over, there’ve been some changes in this plugger’s local neighborhood. Not to complain: now milk’s thirty cents a gallon cheaper, and isn’t that worth an extra twenty minutes or so of driving? But you can’t blame him from talking in the past tense: “take a left at the huge, empty, greyish husk of a building, go a couple of miles and it’s on the right across from the mid-sized yellowish burnt-for-the-insurance money husk of a building, next to the Dollar Store” just sounds depressing.

Mary Worth, 8/28/07

Mary’s “Uh-oh!” can’t be about Dr. Drew’s two-timing, since she doesn’t understand or care about ordinary human concepts like “love.” No, she’s more worried that he’s stealing her patented schtick: talking in annoying aphorisms with quote marks around them even though they don’t really appear to be quotes from anything. Also, he’s apparently been taking fashion advice from Ian Cameron — always a very, very bad sign.

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Dennis the Menace, 8/27/07

It’s not particularly hard to parse the look Alice is giving Dennis in this panel — I’m pretty sure that something along the lines of “Fine, don’t chew, you’ll just be all the more likely to choke to death so we can be free of you” is running through her head. The fact that she’s wearing a black cocktail dress adds to her aura of icy disdain, but it seems kind of out-of-place at a family dinner for just the three of them. Perhaps this is a glimpse into the alternate-reality version of the strip, Dennis, Viscount of Stokington? That would explain the ultra-formal attire: the whole noble family is supping at their seat, Menacing House, with Henry, the 16th Marquess of Forth and Stoke, despairing that his unruly heir will ever be considered cultured enough to follow in his footsteps to Eton and Oxbridge.

Family Circus, 8/27/07

Hooray for the coloring gnomes, who apparently noticed that the caption here makes reference to “leaves … starting to change” and actually colored the leaves in the background accordingly! That doesn’t forgive the obvious and unexplained dollop of red at the end of Billy’s football, however. The ball is too blunt to stab anybody with, so presumably our little towheaded psychopath killed an innocent in some other way, then dipped the football in the spilled blood, hoping to thereby gain totemic power.

Mary Worth, 8/27/07

Great Jesus Christ, do I want to know why Mary was apparently sitting on Dr. Jeff’s lap while he was doing something “tiresome” at the computer? Or why she has that bizarre, fixed smile on her face? Leaving Jeff to go to bed in what appears to be the middle of the afternoon? Please, take us back to Dr. Drew, with his Star Trek-themed three-way fantasies, I’m begging you.

Momma, 8/27/07

I’m assuming that “– you know — life” is code for “the facts of life” which is in turn code for “the basics of human sexuality and reproduction.” Momma’s clearly right to pick her battles, as nobody, least of all us poor readers, would want to see the how her core values on sexuality — that any woman who has sex before marriage, or enjoys it afterwards, is no better than a common harlot — would be received. But maybe a bit of an explanation would have made things better for her son.

Pluggers, 8/27/07

Normally I just snicker immaturely at pluggers from my elevated position as an East Coast cultural elitist, but today’s installment strikes me as quite poignant. As our plugger hero stirs with furrowed brow, he almost seems to be saying a little prayer: Please, Lord, let me poop tonight. Please. I try to be a good person. I think it’s been nearly a week.