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The Phantom, 1/27/06

Holy smokes, the situation with the Phantom’s kids is worse than I thought. It’s bad enough that Heloise (Heloise?) wants to turn this Jungle Trek into some sort of sleepover party, with a pup tent, an inflatable mattress, and a battery-powered PlayStation; Kit, on the other hand, is worried that he’s going to cramp up. What a pathetic pair. This is what comes of Bangalla’s transition to peaceful, modern democracy: they may be living in the jungle, but the twins’ tribal guardians have kept them as sheltered as any neurotic, play date-happy suburbanites. Good luck turning them into spandex-clad crime fighters, O Ghost.

Hopefully the Phantom will shake these two out of their self-absorbed little bubbles before they become mired in the endless tedium of first-world angst-ridden post-teen romance:

Luann, 1/27/06

Yeah, you know what a peck on the cheek in front of 200 people is, Brad? It’s yet more messing around with your head. Get out now while you can, for the love of God!

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Judge Parker, 1/26/06

Yeah, I’d bet you like her to “define” “physical” for you, wouldn’t you, Sam? I know that floor-length purple jumper has been driving you wild all night (a night that has, by my reckoning, lasted since about November). Still, you’re eventually going to have to come to grips with the fact that your clown-haired girlfriend gets most of her jollies through spying on her daughter. Oh, the shame.

Down in the rural south, on the other hand, the folks have a less complicated relationship with their physical desires:

Yeah, “entertainment.” Check out Mark’s Spock-style eyebrows in this panel. Maybe he’ll take care of this clan of bumpkins with some well-timed Vulcan neck pinches.

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Mother Goose and Grimm, 1/25/06

“So you know what would have been funnier in this Mother Goose and Grimm?” I asked the lovely Mrs. Curmudgeon after I read it Wednesday. “If instead of finding his wife having dinner with the dog, he found them gettin’ it on.”

I’m not proud of this. In my defense, I had stayed up late working the night before and was kind of loopy. I may not have used the euphemism “gettin’ it on,” either. I may have deployed the phrase “doggie style.”

Mrs. C. insisted that it would not, in fact, be funnier. You all would no doubt agree, though you might not use the same line of reasoning. For one thing, it’s grosser. But part of what makes something funny is the unexpected and unusual, and, as she put it, “More women have had sex with dogs than have had romantic candlelight dinners with dogs.”

Touché, my dear. Touché.