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Nothing really inspired me on Sunday … so how about three quickies from today?

Gil Thorp, 11/21/05

Dear Gil Thorp: All is forgiven. Retroactively and in advance. All of it — the bad hair, crappy art, Brent “Rap Dog” — all of the pain has been washed away by this beautiful moment. It may be that the weeks of the Brick House storyline have entirely existed to set up the exchange in panel three here. If that’s the case, I will testify in a court of law that it has not been time wasted.

The Middletons, 11/21/05

Sweet Christ, The Middletons, what sort of sick sadist are you? To portray these noble birds responding to that call for freedom and life that beats within the heart of every living being, making a desperate bid to escape, only to find the gutted, skinned, and cooked corpses of their unfortunate fellows? Oh, the horror! THE HORROR!

Seriously, though, I’m sure looking forward to Thanksgiving this Thursday, ’cause I like me some gravy and some turkey skin. Mmmm… skin. Sorry fellas!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/21/05

More proof: you can send a man to med school, but you can’t make him care.

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Family Cirucs, 11/19/05

Billy: Adorable towheaded tyke. Lovable, neighborhood-exploring scamp. Big brother. Son. Christian Scientist?

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Zits, 11/18/05

There’s an issue that’s been percolating in the comments for some time, but I’ve decided that it’s finally time for me to take a stand on it. And that issue is as follows: Momma Zits’s breasts: What’s the deal with them? I mean, the comics section is full of breasts that could not possibly occur in nature, but at least I understand why those boobs are the way they are: because the artists who draw them are desperately lonely horn-dogs. Momma Zits’s boobs, on the other hand, are just strange and disturbing to me. I suppose that someone out there finds them sexy — there is a lid for every pot, after all — but still … they’re awful … pointy. Like, eye-gougingly pointy. Be careful with the hugging there, Jeremy.

The effect is lost in this colorized version of the strip, but when you see Momma Zits in the paper, her shirt (other than that band around her chest) and her skin are the same color, which makes it look as if she’s wearing some kind of ultra-small tube top. This does not help matters.

Good to see that teenage cruelty has been kicked up a notch since my days bearing the brunt of it: rather than just slap a post-it note on his back, Jeremy’s tormentors actually took the time to scrawl their cruel epithets directly onto his omnipresent purple shirt. Nice.

By the way, I’m well aware of the fact that, unlike most cartoon clans, the Zits family members all have actual first and last names. As usual, I’m just too lazy to look them all up.