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Comment of the Week

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.

—Voshkod
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Where’s the action?

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Mark Trail, 6/18/05

Has Jack Elrod gone soft? I’ve been saving Mark Trail for what I was sure would be the climactic, triumphant punch today, and instead I get more standin’ around and jawin’. Goddamn it, Elrod, I want fisticuffs! Maybe the middle panel is supposed to be symbolic: just as the crafty squirrel escapes from the mighty hawk to chew nuts adorably another day, so Crane avoids the righteous right hook of justice for now. At least we get another couple good looks at Bob’s stupid little orange hat, though, which I just can’t get enough of.

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Three-fer madness!

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The Phantom, 6/17/05

Ces apparently gets racist hate mail for implying that a ten year old might be capable of taking care of herself; thus, I’m sure that King Features is really hearing it about this strip, which involves a latex-suited freak and a cone-hatted pygmy joking about the jungle-roofie-fueled date-rape (er, archaeological-expedition-rape) sequence that’s coming soon. Yuck.

Ziggy, 6/17/05

As C. Montgomery Burns once so aptly put it: “Oh, Ziggy, will you ever win?” I guess some GPs really are sick of dealing with patients without HEALTH INSURANCE.

Family Circus, 6/17/05

Dolly mangles the Pledge of Alliegence, day four: America’s nightmare continues. Remember how much trouble Roseanne Barr got into for singing the Star Spangled Banner off-key? You’d think that Sean Hannity would have called for the Keane clan’s death by now, but no such luck.

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Does it get any manlier?

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/16/05

“I told you, boy! I told you! I told you that if you tried to go into some kind of pansy-ass line of work like ahr-kee-ology that someone would try to beat you to death with a fence post!”

Seriously, I’m not sure what makes a profession “manly,” but if it puts you in a position where you might be bludgeoned to death, well, that seems pretty damn butch to me. Of course, I’m sure that’s just the sort of fancy-pants graduate school logic that would enrage Pater Foxworth all the more.

Also: It’s been covered already by you witty commentators, but I feel obligated to share this bizarre Gil Thorp panel with the masses:

Note to high school baseball coaches who use images of the Virgin Mary as pitchers: if your icon of the Holy Mother of God begins to sweat and/or weep blood, it’s time to bring in a reliever. May we suggest St. James the Just? Or Coleman. Whatever.