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Mary Worth, 8/27/18

Oh hell yes y’all it’s a god-damned Charterstone pool party! This is a long and honored Mary Worth tradition, which we’ve enjoyed since the very early days of this blog, but I don’t think we’ve had a truly proper one in more than four years, and the last one led to the story of Olive and her magical psychic tummy, so I am pretty jazzed about today’s developments.

What hilarious plot awaits us? It’s possible that we’re going to learn that Mary, her hands afflicted with rheumatoid arthritis, can no longer mush canned salmon paste into a proper shape before sticking it in the oven, downgrading her usual salmon squares to varying and irregular “salmon snacks.” But the smart money is on this natty old man and his adorable dog. Remember the time when Mary found an injured dog and brought it back home to Charterstone and was glad to discover the condo rules allowed dogs because otherwise she’d have to lay waste to all who opposed her? Anyway, the point is, this dog is more than welcome to hang out by the Charterstone pool and rub its butthole directly on the glass tables in the common area.

Six Chix, 8/27/18

As someone who has a phobia of bees and needles (I mean, what’s a bee but a weird yellow fly with a needle on it’s butt, really) you’d think I’d find this strip terrible triggering, but I actually kind of like it! I mean, I assume its purpose is to bring on vertiginous nightmares, right? I particularly enjoy the lady in panel two going strabismic with terror.

Beetle Bailey, 8/27/18

I love how everyone in the car looks genuinely horrified by the prospect of Sarge’s violent, volcanic anger. Sure, Beetle is regularly pounded to goo and seems to bounce back easily enough, but will the same logic apply to his fellow soldiers? Or will they be left thoroughly dead, a misshapen mass of broken bones and pulverized organs? Sarge’s court-martial, where he breaks down crying and sobs “I thought … I thought they’d just go back to normal. Beetle goes back to normal!” will be of little consolation to their grieving families.

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Mary Worth, 8/26/18

Man, maybe I’m a bad person for seeing a sincere, chipper, bright-eyed recovering substance abuser telling his lovely girlfriend on the beach “And I don’t hate myself anymore!” and enjoying my most honest laugh in weeks. But if you’ve read this blog all these years and not known what kind of person I am, well, that’s on you, I guess. Anyway, long story short, there’s no word in the English language to describe how extremely healthy and durable this relationship is going to be!

Mark Trail, 8/26/18

Hey, kids, do you think that plants are boring? Tell that to fuckin’ hogsbane, a 14-foot-tall invader that, if you try to kill it, will blind you by spraying you with its poison blood. No wonder Mark doesn’t even crack a half-smile in today’s strip! We must kill all plants, everywhere, until we can be sure that we’re safe.

Dick Tracy, 8/26/18

So Dick Tracy is doing a two-week “minit mystery” with a guest artist. It’s a locked room mystery in which the real Dick Tracy has to solve the murder of a guy cosplaying as Dick Tracy, and all the suspects are people cosplaying as Dick Tracy villains, which I think is a pretty good metaphor for how far up the ass of its own lore this strip has gotten in general.

Funky Winkerbean, 8/26/18

I’m enjoying today’s Funky Winkerbean, in which the title character allows himself a brief smile when he believes that his mother-in-law has finally, blessedly died, only to scowl when he realizes she’s just dozed off.

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Dennis the Menace, 8/25/18

If I know my Dennis Mitchell, he’d never say “he will” rather than “he’ll.” And if I know my genre conventions, inappropriate failure to use contractions is a sign that what we’re dealing with here is an android, presumably one that Mr. Wilson built in his garage workshop to make him feel like he has some kind of control over his life. “Ha ha,” says the Dennis-bot, “Mr. Wilson will need a calculator to count so many calories, because biological life forms are not good at mathematicak operations, even simple ones like addition!” George looks incredibly smug because he knows he could turn Dennis off whenever he wants.

Family Circus, 8/25/18

“Your eyes, Daddy!” Dolly exclaimed, grabbing at them with her short, stumpy fingers. “So wise and learnèd.” She began to really dig in there with her surprisingly sharp nails. “I want them.” Her voice deepened, and echoed like something very far away, yet at the same time rose to a deafening pitch. “I want your eyes. Give them to me. Give me your eyes. I want them.”