Comment of the Week

I know somebody probably just woke her up but I'd be more interested in her as a character if Neddy waited until she was nice and cozy in bed because it soothes her to get Randy all agitated and that makes for a pleasant, restful sleep.

Tabby Lavalamp

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Pluggers, 10/7/06

“Hi Cousin Mabel! How are things in California? What? 4:30 in the morning? No, I think you’re wrong, my watch says 7:30. ‘Time zone’? Oh, I forget that you crazy Californians always have to do things differently! Ha ha! Yeah, I know we go through this every time I call, but I just don’t understand why you silly liberals don’t get on real American time.”

Seriously, though, I can derive no other message from this strip other than “Pluggers will call you at a totally inappropriate time just to save a few cents a minute on long distance,” or, to put it more succinctly, “Pluggers are assholes.” I note that contributor Lauren Williams is herself an inhabitant of Santa Barbara, California, which is one of the lower plugger-density cities in America, so I have to assume that she’s not admiring the plugger’s thrifty ways but rather attempting to publicly humiliate her plugger relatives who call her in the dead of night. Sorry, Lauren, but you should know by now that pluggers don’t feel any shame.

Judge Parker, 10/7/06

Yeah, Raju’s going to have a pretty awesome time at that party, all right.

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A note arrived from an inquisitive member of the Fourth Estate:

I’m a writer with the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel looking for fans of the Far Side, Calvin and Hobbes, Bloom County, and/or the Boondocks who live in the Milwaukee area. Can you please post something on your blog asking if there are any Milwaukee bloggers who fit this need? Ask them to contact me at this e-mail address: lprice@journalsentinel.com.

Heed the call, Milwaukeeans! (Milwaukeeites? What the hell do you people like to be called?)

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Apartment 3-G, 10/6/06

The Case Of The Dumb Blonde In The Mysterious Dark Building has been grinding on slowly while the other A3G girls enjoy their old-man-taunting dinner party. It’s not exactly clear where it is that Lu Ann is sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong; presumably its door was opened by the mysterious set of keys Alan left for our blonde bombshell back in August, and it’s the only building in New York that isn’t in the midst of a condo conversion. Hopefully the moodily lit Lu Ann will get to the top of the stairs and discover that Alan has been living for the past few months Phantom Of The Opera style in a ruined but strangely beautiful aerie, where he’s been perfecting his art in isolation and brooding over the girl who got away. Either that, or it’ll be some kind of sex dungeon.

I don’t like to criticize when I can’t offer alternative solutions of my own, but: I’m not really sure how in the context of a single relatively small panel you’d indicate that a character’s flashlight is starting to flicker on and off, but I’m pretty sure having it emit the words “BLINK BLINK” isn’t it.

Mary Worth, 10/6/06

OH MY GOD FUNERAL FUNERAL FUNERAL! You know what happened the last time Mary went to a funeral, don’t you? Don’t you? AWESOMENESS! Even if Aldo really is dead, surely the presence of the evil meddlers who drove him to desperate self-harm will cause some sort of angry riot among his (no doubt many) friends, family members, and loved ones. Will Mary and Toby have to flee one of Santa Royale’s classiest funeral homes one step ahead of an enraged mob of Kanes and Kelrasts? Will Ian and Wilbur find their bodies strung up from the nearest lamppost the next day? Or (better yet) will this “funeral” turn out to be an intervention for inveterate meddlers, presided over by none other than the not-really-dead Aldo himself? I mean, in real life, it’s probably going to be a chance for Mary to dispense Bartlett’s-worthy bon mots about alcohol abuse, but let a guy dream for a day or two, OK?

Mark Trail, 10/6/06

Uh, yeah, but Mark is really just lulling Hoyt into a sense of complacency, and then he’s going to turn around and punch him in the jaw, right? Right? I mean, the phrase “Keep your dogs off of Lost Forest property, Hoyt” would be best delivered with Hoyt supine, cowering, and nursing a broken nose.

I have a feeling that Molly is going to have a hard time understanding the hostility towards her from the administrators of the local hospital and the county health inspectors.

Ballard Street, 10/6/06

Uh, yeah, her own mind. That’s what she’s deriving all that pleasure from. Riiiight.