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Momma
Mary Worth, 7/29/10
I’m not going to lie to you: the deeper Dr. Mike sinks into misery, the happier I get. Thus I’m nearly ecstatic at the first-panel flashback, in which he mopes sullenly in the rain, having been stood up by his deadbeat dad once again, with only an albino pigeon for company. In panel two we see the present-day man tormented by these visions, and attempting to punch them out of his mind, or at least knock himself out and fall into blessed unconsciousness. Mary, watching over tented fingers, seemed stunned at just how quickly her latest meddle has gotten so awesome.
Momma, 7/29/10
But I don’t want you to think that I wish ill to all inhabitants of the comics pages! For instance, poor Tina is one of the minor characters whose plight I feel most keenly. She’s been exposed to this sort of Oedipal horror for the entire duration of her marriage, but from her crumpled mouth and thousand-mile stare in panel three, I’m thinking that today may be the day when she finally snaps.
Beetle Bailey, 7/29/10
Camp Swampy’s base doctor was a good choice to conduct the terrible medical experiments that the government is secretly carrying out on unwitting human subjects, since he appears to be literally incapable of empathy.
EXCITING CONTEST OPPORTUNITY: You have all probably been wondering “Why is Gil Thorp wasting its time this summer on golf, the most boring sport in existence, without even the fun of Marty Moon being humiliated?” Well, it might have something to do with a little contest being run by the Detroit News, which employs Gil Thorp writer Neal Rubin to write about sports as his day job. Readers vote for a News writer; whoever gets the most votes will get $500 bucks for his or her favorite charity, and one person who voted for the winner will be selected at random to spend some Quality Time with that writer. So obviously you should all vote for Neal, get some cash to Gleaners Community Food Bank, and get in the running to win “a lavish lunch for two with Neal Rubin at one of the area’s best restaurants, or lunch and a round of golf for two with Neal at Plum Hollow Country Club in Southfield.” If you play golf with him, you must dress up as Ben Franklin and keep trying to get him to bet on the game. DO IT! VOTE NOW! (Thanks to faithful reader jvwalt for the tip!)
Momma, 5/28/10
Reading Momma is always a harrowing experience, but rarely does the strip get into Funky Winkerbean territory and actively discuss, say, suicide. Not content to have Momma simply make awkward conversation with the widow of a man who just killed himself, today’s strip takes us on journey ever deeper into sorrow. At first we are lead to believe that Sadie’s husband killed himself because his failing body left him in constant agony; but then, as Sadie gives Momma an icy glare, we realize the truth: that he took his life because of the failure of her marriage, and that she frankly believes that this was the only reasonably reaction on his part. Fun!
Hagar the Horrible, 5/28/10
Of course, it’s leagues more sophisticated than Hagar the Horrible, which features a dog who really, really has to go to the bathroom. Don’t “relax” your bowels, Snert!
Crankshaft, 5/28/10
A question for northeast Ohioans: in your local dialect, does “wuss” rhyme with “bus”? Follow-up question: Do you smile cheerfully in the wake of repeated assaults on your property, believing them to be the inevitable punishment of a sadistic creator?
Momma, 5/7/10
I keep trying to fit this strip into a shape that isn’t horrible, but this is all that I can come up with:
- After running out of socks, Francis also ran out of toilet paper.
- Francis uses socks as toilet paper.
- Francis is going to masturbate in Thomas’s bathroom, using one of Thomas’s socks to clean up with.
Oh God, oh God, I need to stop there unless I…
- Francis has already masturbated into Thomas’s laundry hamper, and now needs to use the bathroom, for unrelated reasons.
ARGH ARGH ARGH MUST MOVE ON
Crankshaft, 5/7/10
Crankshaft is of course a terrible, hateful character, but I do sort of respect his refusal to cower in the face of the obvious cruelty and misanthropy of his creator. Crankshaft’s friend there is glum and resigned in the face of the specter of death; Crankshaft sneeringly demands to know the day and time of destruction, so that he may laugh at it all the more. Until then, he will live every day as if it were his last, making everyone around him as miserable as possible.
Judge Parker, 3/20/10
“You should get a reward for this!” exclaims Judge Randy, waving a wad of cash left by some plaintiff’s attorney. “I mean, everybody gets rewards . . . like, for everything, all the time — don’t they? I sure do! Rewards are cool! You like my new watch? It was a reward! April, too — very rewarding! Hey, walk to my car with me . . . I bet there’s a twenty in it for ya!”
Between Friends, 3/20/10
Better health begins with “Shut the hell up!” Take that first step today!
Apartment 3-G, 3/20/10
“Why am I going home to an empty apartment? Lu Ann is there!”
Momma, 3/20/10
Sonja’s husband died of natural causes, yet no one will believe it wasn’t suicide.
Blondie, 3/20/10
It was wild, wasn’t it? But it’s spring now — enjoy!
– Uncle Lumpy
Herb and Jamaal, 3/11/10
Ha ha, this is without out a doubt the greatest Herb and Jamaal ever. Rev. Croom just wants to have a little lunch in peace — but no, this little creep, the one who only shows up at church at Christmas and Easter, and whose mother-in-law he wishes would only show up at Christmas and Easter, has to badger him about eternity and crap. Fine, there’s nobody else here, there’s plausible deniability. “Sorry, kid, you’re going to be tortured in Hell for all eternity with the other damned souls,” he says, just stone-cold sucking his tea through a straw. “Now are you going to bring me my lunch or what?”
Mark Trail, 3/11/10
If I didn’t already know that this Mark Trail storyline was essentially a repeat of one that ran thirty years ago, I’d say that we’re witnessing a quantum leap forward in Trailian storytelling. As a rule, the narrative is relentlessly linear, and thus I assumed that yesterday’s shameless flirting was going to lead inexorably to some major plot point. Instead, it may have just been a bit of throwaway color meant to provide Mark with a key piece of information. Mark, meanwhile, seems to have made the monumental discovery that not every firing of a neuron in side his hair-helmeted skull needs to result in the immediate verbalization of the resulting idea: note in panel two that he’s actually managed to muster a genuine thought balloon. This first feeble specimen only encapsulates the vague notion of questioning, but with effort Mark may discover that it’s possible to think whole words or even sentences without saying them aloud.
Momma, 3/11/10
I find the scenario depicted here rather puzzling. It’s not because Momma’s being hit on by some gnomish bow-tied individual — there’s a lid for every pot, as my father once said to me, though in this case it appears to be a gold-digging lid; rather, I just have no clear idea of where exactly the action is supposed to be taking place. What setting might include a Momma-sized easy chair and a potted plant, but also be open to the public so that strangers might wander in and harass her? Is he cruising for babes down at the senior center?
Family Circus, 3/11/10
Little known fact: Grandma appears in the strip only occasionally because she spends most of her time — and most of her grandchildren’s’ inheritance — following ’80s glam-rock band Cinderella around the country. When Cinderella isn’t touring, she keeps busy jamming with her Cinderella tribute band, Glass Slipper.
Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/11/10
They’re still cousins, though, so this may make Thanksgiving dinner awkward.
B.C., 2/3/10
Whoah, post-Johnny Hart B.C. is dangerously flirting with relevance, using as a cultural touchstone an actor whose career popularity peaked a mere 15 to 20 years ago! Perhaps — and this is just a suggestion — this joke shouldn’t have paired overacting with the name of a man who’s mostly known for squinting at the camera in an expression that might be described as either stoic or confused, depending on how charitable you’re being.
Momma, 2/3/10
It’s kind of disappointing that the first Momma to acknowledge that the title character is in fact 11 inches tall is also the one where her son leaves her outside in the snow to freeze to death.
Luann, 2/3/10
I’m pretty sure this is the opening scene of a film used as aversion therapy for porn addicts.