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Gil Thorp, 8/22/07

So, well, uh, I guess my hopes that this might be interesting, or make any damn sense at all, have pretty much been dashed at this point. Way to hold up under pressure there, Cliff. “I didn’t do it!” “We followed you!” “Aw, hell.” I am pretty impressed by Gail’s look of unbridled rage there in panel three. You do not want to get on the wrong side of the rock and roll Carole King, I tell you what. I guess the real lesson here is that shady dudes with Fu Manchu mustaches and a record of drug offenses are actually pretty cool guys! They sure wouldn’t leave passive-aggressive notes scattered around; they’d just insult you to your face.

(But it still doesn’t add up! With the money he earned touring, Cliff was able to buy a van! A van!)

Mark Trail, 8/22/07

Meanwhile, smack dab in the middle of the future site of the Lost Forest Hot Topic, Homer the friendly construction worker is about to take a stand to protect some baby ducks from the ravenous jaws of your so-called “progress.” It should come as no surprise that our duck-loving bulldozer operator is clean-shaven, while the stench of evil rising from his coworker is as thick as his no doubt matted beard. Fortunately, Mark Trail will soon be on the scene to explain what he learned from Sam Hill: once the developers finish draining the wetlands, birds won’t want to lay their eggs there anymore, and the problem is solved!

Momma, 8/22/07

The following sentence is one that I never, ever wanted to write, but I suppose in retrospect it was inevitable, so here goes: The frank sexuality in today’s Momma is deeply disturbing to me. It’s already been implied that Francis fancies himself a ladies man, much to Momma’s disgust. Presumably she assumes (no doubt with good reason) that Francis’s inability to hold down gainful employment probably indicates that he’s unable to operate a prophylactic, and that she has dozens of bastard grandchildren all over town. You’d think she’d be a little excited about the prospect: grandkids are usually idée fixe #1 of the Mommas of the world; she’s got none to brag about down at the senior center, other than little Chucky, who hasn’t appeared since his fateful trip to the bar with Francis, when he was presumably traded for beer.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/22/07

I’m not going to touch the political content of today’s TDIET (“Public education: A necessary institution in an equitable society, or an insatiable money pit?”). Instead, I’m going to outline the lottery-themed TDIET I’d like to see:

Governor Honcho calls a press conference to crow when he busts up Vito’s little numbers racket…

(“Step right in, gentlemen! Why not put a bit of scratch on 17 red? Only 35-to-1 odds! You could … aw, cheese it! The fuzz!”)

…but then who d’ya see on TV trying to get you to put a buck on the Big Payoff Lottery Scratch-Off? Do you have to ask? I don’t think so!

(“Million-to-one odds … and you could be that one! Why not cash your Social Security check to buy more? Every dime goes to education! Etc … etc …”)

Apartment 3-G, 8/22/07

OK, now they’re just fucking with us, with the hair.

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Apartment 3-G, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s sudden out-of-character shifts in affection just to keep the plot churning along comics!

Blondie, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s deliberately misunderstanding unnecessarily ambiguous grammar for a “laugh” comics!

Beetle Bailey, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s deliberately misunderstanding unnecessarily ambiguous grammar for a “laugh” comics, with overtones of bondage!

Gasoline Alley, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s comics with a well-deserved comeuppance, only we aren’t allowed to see it for some reason, possibly because there’s no justice in this world?

Hi and Lois, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s comics with advice on how to deal with the ongoing collapse of the American housing sector: do all the meth you can while you can still afford it!

Mary Worth, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s unsubtle allusions to erections comics!

Gil Thorp, 8/21/07

Hey, kids! It’s high school never ends comics, with the grown-up jocks bullying the grown-up nerds while … wait, what? Adorable Ben Franklin is the note-leaver? But Gail bought him his van! His van, man! This can’t be right. It’s only Tuesday! There’s more to this, right? There has to be! *Sob*

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Apartment 3-G, 8/20/07

WOO-HOO! NERD FIGHT! NERD FIGHT! NERD FIGHT FOR TOMMIE’S LOOOOOVVVVE!

Last we saw Gary Walker, he was some kind of ancillary member of Gina’s Required-By-Court Order-To Remain-A-Minimum-Of-500-Yards-Off-Broadway theater company … the bookkeeper or something? I forget, and Lord knows I’m not looking it up. He mooned mopily after Tommie as she made out with the pencil-mustached director of the play. His hair, it almost goes without saying at this point, was the same sandy hue as Dr. Whatshisbutt, but apparently he’s dipped into the Miss Clairol Sassy and Brassy in a desperate attempt to win Tommie’s heart.

I know that failing New York theater companies aren’t professional, and that their members almost always have real jobs, but I’m suspicious of Gary’s professional geek credentials. (His personal geek credentials are in the clear, obviously.) “Solution package” just doesn’t ring true to me, and believe me, I have to read more of this crap than the average mind can comfortably encompass. “Solution” should be the noun for whatever horrible mass of code he’s going to foist on the hospital’s hapless IT department, modified by one or more of the following: “enterprise-class,” “HIPAA-compliant,” “open standards-friendly,” “Web services-ready,” or “XML-based.” I can only assume that Gary isn’t a systems engineer at all, but is merely willing to type aimlessly on a laptop he’s brought into the hospital for a chance to hover passive-aggressively in the vicinity of the boring object of his desire. Tommie’s quizzical look in the second panel seems to say, “Wait a minute — I’m going to be fought over by these two? I’m sorry, even I don’t find that remotely believable.”

Luann, 8/20/07

Now, the question of “What aspect of TJ’s outfit is the most jaw-droppingly ludicrous?” is one that we can all have a good time debating. Is it his elevator heels? His extra-high-waisted pants? The stripy sweater vest? The fact that Brad non-ironically calls it “stylin'”? The best part is that there are no wrong answers. Still, I’m holding out hope that what appears to be a sort of weirdly dark set of buttons below the collar is actually a tie, of either the bolo or the skinny ’80s variety. Either way, this ensemble is surely an early Labor Day present to each and every one of us.

By the way, I was in the Gap on Saturday and there was an entire rack of black sweater vests in the menswear section. Could Al Scaduto have more control over fashion choices than any of us realize?

For Better Or For Worse, 8/20/07

OH SNAP LIZ CANDACE JUST CALLED YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND FRIENDSHIP PARTNER GARBAGE! By uttering the phrase “angelic little Francie,” Candace cements her place as one of the few remaining likable characters in the strip.

Liz’s word balloon is already taking up a lot of panel four, so there probably wasn’t room to improve its accuracy by putting “who hit on me while he was still married to her” after “wonderful man” and “whom she was passive-aggressively browbeat into having” after “beautiful daughter.” I’m very excited about Liz’s boast that she can “handle” Thérèse. I sure hope she gets a chance to prove herself in physical combat — not because I get off on seeing the ladies fight with each other, but because Thérèse would almost certainly win any such altercation in short order.

Blondie, 8/20/07

I have to admit that I actually laughed at Blondie today. Dagwood’s eating patterns — frenzied bursts of feeding activity in which massive caloric intake occurs in a short period of time, followed by hours and hours of napping — match up pretty well with those of typical large carnivores, so the nature-documentary vibe of this strip, with a feral, hungry Dagwood roaming the corridors of Dithers Enterprises, works pretty well. The question is, who is the weakest member of this herd, destined to be culled by Dagwood’s razor-sharp teeth?

Marvin, 8/20/07

I’ve never raised an infant, so maybe I just don’t know, but someone who has raised an infant, help me out here: Surely it’s not socially acceptable to come into work covered in vomit, just because that vomit came out of someone too young to feed himself? And you wouldn’t relay this information without shame with a sort of heavy-lidded numbness to whoever might ask? Is this what casual Friday has wrought?