Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 7/21/07

Love, Apartment 3-G-style: You’ve been waiting for months to make a move on your pretty, bland underling, so what better opportunity than her roommate’s possible brain damage? Just hand her the business card with your private number on it (the one that says “stud” instead of “brain doctor”), lean in close so she can get a good look at your bland, sandy good looks and your leer, and order her to call you by your first name. She may be leaning away from you at the exact angle that you’re leaning in, but you know she wants you.

Mary Worth, 7/21/07

Love, Mary Worth-style: You’ve never actually seen the Big Sleep, of course, but you’ve heard that in it 21-year-old Lauren Bacall seduced 47-year-old Humphrey Bogart in a restaurant with sexy horse talk, so try to babble artlessly about the noble equines in as blunt a matter as possible so that he knows you’re talking about screwing. Be sure to use inappropriate quotation marks (if we’re really talking about horses, doesn’t she long to actually, literally, get back into the saddle again?) that nobody can see, anyway. If that doesn’t work, hint darkly at your troubled past and push your hands together and pray for pity sex — since that’s the only kind of sex you feel that you deserve, what with the self-loathing.

Gil Thorp, 7/21/07

Love, Gil Thorp-style: Teach a one-legged guy how to box. I know, it’s not romantic, but its nothing short of a gesture of true love to the readers. It’s like Gil and Coach Kaz are in some kind of competition to see who can have the most bizarre summer. Hopefully it will all end in mid-August in some kind of transcendent hallucinatory explosion of joy at Thorpstock, with braids and prostheses and punching, lots of punching.

Pluggers, 7/21/07

Everyone, with the possible exception of Marie Antoinette, is a plugger.

Post Content

Have things reached a tipping point when I don’t announce a lookalike contest but people still keep sending me lookalike photos anyway? Probably! Kaycee, who’s a faithful reader and close personal friend (I’ve seen her put away a bottle of wine, people!) recreated that golden moment when we first laid eyes on the Rock & Roll Carole King:

And faithful reader ElSanto was among the many who saw the reference to “the One” a few days ago and immediately thought of The Matrix. But instead of just moving on with his life, he created this awesome YouTube video based on the idea:

As a side note, I think it’s a sign of what a wonderful a summer of Gil Thorp madness we have to look forward to that we’re currently getting a return visit from the guy who cut his own leg off and that’s the B plot.

In other news, faithful reader jaybrrd wore his Molly the Bear shirt to Six Flags for his official Six Flags photo!

Reports of hostility could not be confirmed at press time.

Post Content

The Lockhorns, 7/20/07

Normally, when the Lockhorns turns away from its wonderfully refined set of canonical jokes and attempts to inject an (almost always lame) reference to some aspect of contemporary pop culture, I’m strongly opposed. However, today’s gag has so many layers of perversion that I have to admit to being kind of charmed by it. I suppose it’s possible that Leroy simply sees adoption by a wealthy movie star as his ticket out of his failed marriage and soul-crushing job, and an opportunity to live in a huge mansion without having to work for it; it is a long shot, as Loretta notes, but he does appear to be about three feet tall, so maybe there’s a chance that he’ll be mistaken for a impoverished Belarusan orphan boy whose freakish, hairless appearance is a result of his parents living downwind from Chernobyl.

But since Angelina Jolie is generally summoned up in conventional discourse as a totemic sex goddess, and Leroy is sporting that crinkly smile that he usually gets when drunkenly flirting with statuesque blondes twice his height at parties, one has to assume there’s something more going on here. Does Leroy believe that Jolie’s “adoptions” are mere covers for her sexual appetites? Does he harbor some sort of infantilism fetish? More disturbing that the potential answers to either of these questions is the affectless way Loretta conveys this information to her dumbfounded friend. She’s so used to the bottomless well of numbness that is her marriage that it never occurs to her to leave or anything; the prospect that Leroy might take off for better prospects seems to fill her with neither joy nor despair. It’s just another thing that might happen.

Anyway, no other comics came close to this level of depraviy today, but a few tried.

Funky Winkerbean, 7/20/07

Dear God, please let “bedbugs” not be code for some intimate part of the human anatomy.

Mary Worth, 7/20/07

In a desperate attempt to avoid thinking about this dialog as anything other than a transparent but incredibly awkward lead-in to a proposition, I’m focusing on Dawn’s fork. Her tiny, tiny fork. Maybe she’s on a new diet plan that works on the theory that if you eat with miniscule utensils, you won’t be able to shovel as much food in your mouth. Dawn’s determined to look good naked when she “tries something new.” Damn it, that didn’t work.

Marmaduke, 7/20/07

He’s not so much “listening” as “figuring out the most efficient way to kill and eat you.” But whatever makes you feel better, lady.