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Hagar the Horrible
Mark Trail, 2/9/10
OH, SNAP! The physical assault has begun in Mark Trail, and, since I didn’t cheat by reading ahead with These Strange Worlds, I’m actually pretty shocked that the initial perpetrator is not Joe (or possibly Moe) Parker, but rather this distinguished-looking senator, who isn’t so distinguished that he can’t slap an angry lake-bully with his pimp hand when he gets his dander up. Now, um, maybe this is how elected officials ran constituent services back in the ’70s, but I rather think that this was a poor tactical move on the senator’s part. Surely Moe (or possibly Joe) will be on Fox and/or MSNBC (depending the senator’s political affiliation) in short order, dishing up dirt, and blogs will be falling over each other to come up with “heavy handed” puns. At least there aren’t any cameras around to put the YouTube clip into heavy rotation.
Family Circus, 2/9/10
Once again, you’ve underestimated your brother’s idiocy, Dolly, as he’s actually brushed his teeth with peanut butter. You can see that he’s trying to come up with some retort, but hasn’t been able to pry his jaws apart yet.
Hi and Lois, 2/9/10
I kind of like Lois’s stunned expression; it implies that Chip just let loose with a blues number expressing a deep, existential sadness, the sort of dark, powerful emotion that his mother never even imagined possible, let alone that it might reside in her teenage son. Trixie, as ever, can think of nothing but shitting herself.
Hagar the Horrible, 2/9/10
“That’s because, after days being left hanging here, my shoulders have been terribly dislocated and will never heal properly! I’ll won’t be able to move my arms comfortably again for as long as I live! Ha ha, torture, amiright?”
Apartment 3-G, 12/4/09
As Bobbie’s finger tapped his hollow metal chest with an echoing “thump,” Alec realized that she was right. What was the point of doing this the fancy way? He was just a simple robot, built by Bobbie to hunt down and destroy her cheating husband. No more play-acting at free will; it was time to get down to business.
Family Circus, 12/4/09
There’s something incredibly repulsive to me about how vigorously Jeffy is wiping the slobber off of his face with his unitard-clad forearm. Each and every one of those adults is covered with a thick, viscous layer of Jeffy drool.
Hagar the Horrible, 12/4/09
Yes, Helga, but most people aren’t sad and desperate alcoholics!
Mark Trail, 12/4/09
Normally I do not root for the terrible death of adorable puppies, but Sassy’s continued moronic behavior is making me rethink that policy. Maybe it’s time to let natural selection take its course, you know? On the other hand, if Sassy manages to also take out the malformed Rusty-thing along with her, she will paradoxically become a true hero-dog, unworthy of death.
Marmaduke, 12/4/09
And by “odd-looking toupee” we mean “still-bleeding scalp,” obviously! Actually it’s kind of amazing how that interpretation doesn’t require a change to anybody’s facial expression or body language in this panel.
Slylock Fox, 11/15/09
Something seems seriously askew about the justice system in the world of Slylock Fox. Count Weirdly is the defendant in an elaborate trial with no fewer than five witnesses against him, yet we all know from experience that no matter what the verdict, he’ll be back in his critter-filled lair, plotting deranged, pointless evil, in only a few weeks’ time. It has to really make a lawfox like Slylock question the importance of his vocation, as he busies himself arranging the order in which his witnesses will testify in a needlessly complex fashion.
Meanwhile, in the Six Differences, our pastoral painter is about to learn about the drawbacks of photorealism the hard way, as a befuddled pooch, unable to differentiate between the representation and the represented, urinates all over his artwork.
Hagar the Horrible, 11/15/09
Yes, this bachelor rarely enjoys a home-cooked meal! He generally eats out, or eats a meal that he, uh, cooks at home. Oh, wait, I get it, “home-cooked” is code word for “cooked by a vagina-bearing individual!”
Panel from Blondie, 11/15/09
I found this panel strangely touching. While Dithers generally subjects Dagwood to nothing but persecution and abuse, when he finally admits to himself that his mind is going, he realizes that he’s driven away all intimate companionship with his bluster, and that Dagwood is the closest thing he has to a friend. However, subsequent panels completely fail to follow up on the notion of Dithers gradually going insane, and thus I quickly lost interest.
Panel from Crock, 11/15/09
Meanwhile, because the bottom half of the telephone handset depicted here seems to have vanished, when I first saw this panel I thought for a moment that Crock had decided to put a gun to his head and end both his life and the strip named after him. IF ONLY.
Mary Worth, 8/28/09
Is there anything worse than hearing Tobey natter on in barely coded terms about all the new sex positions she and Ian tried out in various dank castles across Scotland? Turns out there is, and it’s watching Dr. Jeff’s socially inept daughter make out with her ethics-challenged cop boyfriend, right there on the park bench where children can see it.
Momma, 8/28/09
Is there anything worse than Momma’s unsettlingly close relationship with her youngest son? Turns out there is, and it’s hearing her go on and on and on about how all these girls on the beaches today, showing so much skin, they’re just whores whores whores whores.
Family Circus, 8/28/09
Is there anything worse than seeing Jeffy’s pale, naked, fleshy thighs? Turns out there isn’t, so please, please, Mommy Keane, I don’t know what the insane nonsense coming out of Jeffy’s mouth is supposed to mean, but just make soothing noises that will get him to put his pants back on, OK?
Hagar the Horrible, 8/28/09
Looks like another harsh winter in Scandinavia has our favorite band of Viking raiders on the edge of starvation! Good times.
WHAT? AGAIN?: Hey, everyone, we’re going off on a weekend getaway, this weekend, so you may have to wait until Monday for your weekend comics. Then again, it’s supposed to rain, so you may get glum rainy-day vacation blogging. ONLY TIME WILL TELL! Tell then, why not play some Mark Trail Bingo, as developed by faithful reader Aviatrix? Faithful readers spacemika and bats :[ even made boards!
Pearls Before Swine, 8/12/09
Hello, anonymous rude denizens of the Internet! You have driven Stephan Pastis into his Internet Happy Box, so I hope you’re satisfied with yourselves. Actually, when people started emailing me about this strip this morning, I had a weird moment of déjà vu, as I thought this had run months ago. In fact, Stephan e-mailed it to me when he drew it, but that was back in April thanks to the high-tech distribution system that underlies the newspaper comics industry. Anyway, at the time I promised to rip him a new one when this came out, except he hasn’t been doing any of the terrible pun strips lately. SO UNTIL NEXT TIME PASTIS. You stay in that box just to be safe, though.
Baldo, 8/12/09
I went to college at Cornell, which is in the absolutely lovely (some might even say “gorges” HA IT’S A PUN GET IT) city of Ithaca, New York, which, despite being lovely, does not have much going for it in the way of malls. When you grow up going to Cheektowaga’s fabulous Walden Galleria, it’s a bit of a letdown doing all your enclosed chain-store shopping and food-court dining at the Pyramid Mall. This establishment appears to have since changed its name to “The Shops At Ithaca Mall,” which I find extremely amusing — oh, there are shops at the mall, you say? Anyway, I always used to mock the Pyramid Mall’s smallness by referring to it as the “Petite Mall”; I thought this was hilarious and everyone else was either more or less indifferent about it or thought it was actively offensive to people who have seizures. This is a roundabout way of saying that, why yes, I do feel validated by having essentially the same joke used in a Baldo strip 15 years later, thanks for asking!
I originally felt like there might be only about fifty-fifty chance that my terrible seizure joke was in fact the intended reading of this strip, but then I realized that there was no other obvious humor content here, so I figure that has to be what’s happening.
Hi and Lois, 8/12/09
It has not escaped my notice that quite a few of the recent Trixie-centered Hi and Lois strips have featured the pre-verbal infant girl wandering around outside apparently unattended. Maybe her parents are hoping that she’ll be adopted by a local wolfpack or some other band of animals and they’ll be relieved of responsibility for her; unfortunately, they hadn’t counted on the effectiveness with which the builders of their suburban subdivision cleared it of most wildlife. Trixie’s only option is to take up with a colony of frogs, which will go fine until she hits puberty and heads to the culvert under the arterial road with amplexus on her mind, only to be bitterly disappointed.
Hagar the Horrible, 8/12/09
Ha ha! He finds his wife’s mother so irritating that he’s going to hand her over to savages who will use her as a slave or a sacrifice to their pagan gods! MOTHERS IN LAW, am I right, people?
Blondie, 8/2/09
Like many victims of abuse, this dedicated civil servant seems to take the horrible injuries dished out by Dagwood to be merely his lot in life. Blondie slips easily into her role as enabler, assuring poor Mr. Beasley that her monstrous husband “doesn’t mean it” and “it’s not his fault, he’s just late,” and “he won’t do it again” — platitudes that neither of them believe.
Hi and Lois, 8/2/09
Never have the Flagstons done so well at their appointed task of representing the typical middle American family: their insatiable appetite for entertainment — entertainment that can only be achieved through conspicuous consumption — leads them to go on vacations that they simply cannot afford, leading inevitably to financial ruin.
Hagar the Horrible, 8/2/09
“Oh … that Paris! My band of Viking warriors burned it to the ground, slaughtering the inhabitants who resisted us and enslaving the survivors! Why do you ask?”
Marvin, 8/2/09
Cementing his place as the most hated character on the comics page, Marvin attempts to have the municipal animal control service impound and euthanize the family pets. Fortunately, he’s only able to thought-balloon into the phone, leaving him to stew in his own impotent rage (and, since this is Marvin, presumably in his own excrement).
Mary Worth, 8/2/09
And that was the day that Charley removed the last non-porn DVD from his collection, as it apparently scares the ladies off. Delilah, meanwhile, hearing the lyrics “never let her go,” returns to her true love: Mary Worth.
The Phantom, 8/2/09
The Sunday Phantom plotline for the last God knows how long has focused on the royal love triangle summed up with admirable economy in the throwaway panels above; the “other woman” is in fact Captain Lara, Rex’s personal bodyguard, and Rex King is in fact a monarch (thus the name — get it? Is it obvious enough?). Anyway, I haven’t been covering this plot, because it’s been pretty dull, so you can imagine my surprise to see it resolved by Lara simply gunning down her rival in a lover’s rage.
Judge Parker, 8/2/09
Oh, and Judge Parker is still about horse-fucking, FYI.
