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Zits and Sally Forth, 4/7/07

On Saturday, we reach the logical conclusion of the set-up from earlier this week. This may look like further disaster for the Forths, but all the pieces are actually falling neatly into place: Sally’s mother is left isolated in her hateful splendor to sleep on a futon, Jackie can spend two weeks baby-sitting Hilary, with her permissive lifestyle opening all sorts of new experiences up to her that her hyper-controlling parents would never allow, and Ted and Sally will finally get to take that trip to Paris. Connie and Walt, meanwhile, can just do it like bunnies, God bless ’em.

For Better Or For Worse, 4/7/07

See, now, here’s a mature attitude about marriage, you hedonists. It’s something to be endured and withstood with great suffering, something that will force you to move out of the comforting womb of your parents house no matter how hard to try to stay there, and, of course, something that should not include any yucky sex once you’re managed to produce the required pair of children. I hope you’re sufficiently shamed, Forths and Duncans!

Shoe, 4/7/07

Ha ha, it’s funny because … oh, wait, it’s not funny at all. “She’s actually outside right now, waiting for me to get some food. For the love of God, call the police! She’s insane!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/7/07

“Yes! Rex will engage him in thinly veiled homoerotic banter for days! We’ll have plenty of time to come up with an action plan!”

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Family Circus, 4/6/07

I’m not a Christian, but even I know how theologically troubling this Good Friday installment of the supposedly Jesus-friendly Family Circus is. Hey Dolly, they don’t say “Jesus was an adorable baby wrapped in swaddling clothes surrounded by cute animals for your sins,” you know what I’m saying?

Several commentors have suggested that Ma Keane is attempting to exorcize the demons out of Dolly, but I think it’s instructive to compare this panel with Tuesday’s installment. The visual echoes imply that Dolly is about to get smacked with that crucifix; we might assume that its religious meaning is incidental, and that it was merely the closest heavy object to hand.

Gil Thorp, 4/6/07

The first panel of today’s Gil Thorp is just evidence of how far this strip (and by extension America) has slipped from the good old days, as “the doc” is some touch-feely psychotherapist who’s helping Tyler get in touch with his emotions and discover the reasons why he felt a need to hit himself in the back of the head with a stick until he bled; obviously his coach should be telling him to man up, push all those troubling “feelings” deep down inside, and hit other people with sticks instead. The third panel is completely incomprehensible to me. But I like panel two. I like the fact that Assistant Coach Kaz spends his spare time lifting free weights in … well, I don’t know where he’s supposed to be, exactly; it looks like he’s in the exercise yard in prison. I also like the fact that it’s totally obvious that Kaz has had some eye work done.

Apartment 3-G, 4/6/07

The “Lu Ann is being possessed or dying or something and nobody cares or even remembers she exists” bit is now becoming actively hilarious to me. And do we need any more proof that the Professor’s years of “paternal” attentions to the girls in 3G were basically driven by a desire to get into the pants of one or all of them? Now that he’s managed to somehow snag a babe even younger than them, his interest in their sordid paint-huffing adventures has vanished.

The Lockhorns, 4/6/07

I have no idea what this is supposed to mean. But it is true that, thanks to Leroy’s listlessness and inattention, Loretta is like El Niño in that she comes once every three to eight years.

Slylock Fox, 4/6/07

Wow, for someone who in the next few minutes is going to die either from suffocation or from a trip through a walrus digestive system, that fish sure is looking pretty darn cheery.

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Blondie, 4/5/07

True story: On recycling day in our neighborhood, the big trucks from the sanitation department drive around at walking speed; one guy’s in the cabin driving the truck, and another one is walking along the sidewalk, picking up the bags of cans and throwing them in the back. One day last fall as I was walking towards my house, I saw the recycling truck stopped at the corner, with the driver hanging out the window and laughing. When I got a little closer, I could see his partner, an enormous dude in a jumpsuit, hopping his way through a recently chalked hopscotch board, with a huge grin on his face. Anyway, no snark here, just wanted to note that today’s Blondie reminded me of that, and stave off complaints that nobody has actually drawn a hopscotch board on the sidewalk since 1962.

Apartment 3-G, 4/5/07

Oh ho, it’s a meeting of the minor-characters-one-generation-older-than-the-protagonists minds as Margo’s hilariously stereotypical immigrant mother ambushes Professor “Big Papa” Papagoras. The Professor has clearly guessed nothing of the sort about Margo, as he’s surely spent too much time in his love nest with Gina to be keeping track of his neighbors’ sex lives, but he seems surprised that anyone would be planning to propose marriage to someone incapable of what humans call “love.”

Baldo, 4/5/07

Hey, remember last week, when I said something nice about Baldo? Well, since then, Tia Carmen has been explaining to El Mustache del Sexy, in harrowing detail, how she came to arrive in America. It seems that Baldo and Gracie’s mother was killed by a drunk driver in a horrible accident years ago with Baldo and Gracie in the car; their father, overwhelmed by the prospect of raising two kids by himself, called his Tia Carmen to come help raise them. Today, she speculates on the divine purpose behind such horror. That’s right, Baldo and Gracie: God killed your mom so your Tia Carmen could get laid. Sorry ‘bout that, but they don’t call ’em “mysterious ways” for nothing.

Oh, also, on Sunday this strip’s “hilarious” April Fools “joke” featured heavily armed INS agents bursting down the door to the Bermudez home and dragging Tia Carmen away screaming into a paddy wagon while the children wept. I feel less bad about this now that I’ve seen today’s installment.

Pluggers, 4/5/07

Oh, for … that’s a whole lot of unnecessary verbiage in that caption. Here you go: “A puppy is a plugger personal trainer.” GOD DAMN IT PLUGGERS, DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE? Sheesh.