I eat again at the so-called Soul Food place, and yet again I fail to consume a soul. Am I misinterpreting the signs, or is this place lying to me? The owner pries into my writing. I tell him only truth, and he seems troubled. Perhaps his soul is troubled. I could calm it. I could devour it. His partner is nowhere to be seen. The restaurant is empty. Today I will eat soul food.
Beetle Bailey, 10/12/05
Yeah! You’ll love it! You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll be scared, you’ll be … um … angry. So very, very angry. Angry at the filmmakers? Angry at all the chortling, weeping, and shrieking that went on in the theater? Angry at the creators of this strip, who can apparently only draw four emotions? It’s hard to say.
Mary Worth, 10/11/05
I’ll translate for those of you who don’t speak Biddy: “Jeff, you’re not going to be having sex anytime soon. But it’ll build character!“
Apartment 3-G, 10/09 (last panel) and 10/10/05
If you read Sunday’s Apartment 3-G, you might have been fooled into thinking that something — anything — was going to happen this week. Ha! Lu Ann’s freaked-out head bobble turned out to be entirely a result of a bad phone connection. She goes from wide-eyed panic to heavy-lidded, opium-numbed satisfaction in just two panels. This is even lamer than Spider-Man’s narrative delaying tactics from a few months ago. At least Tommie got to look on in sympathetic horror briefly, which is more than she usually has to work with.
Incidentally, in panel two Scott is looking an awful lot like former House Majority Leader Tom DeLay:
Maybe he thinks working with retarded Dominican children will get people to forget the whole indictment thing?