Mark Trail, 10/24/06
Normally I would go into some sort of liberal namby-pamby crap here about how the Mark Trail isn’t going to let no goddamned fourth amendment stop him from handing out left hooks and right crosses of justice, what with him being the King of LoFo and not needin’ no warrants and all, but then I realized that MOLLY IS IN DANGER and these guys are freakin’ NAMED JAKE AND SNAKE FOR GOD’S SAKES so let’s just GET ON WITH THIS ALREADY.
I break my usual contemptuous silence on the subject of Cathy in order to point out that there’s a carrot in Mr. What’s-His-Name’s word balloon in the second panel today. Yeah, you heard me. A carrot. A frickin’ carrot. What. The. Hell.
Get Fuzzy, 10/24/06
I’m really pretty sure that this is the first Holocaust collaboration joke in the history of the comics.
You ever think that maybe male poodles (who by my guess make up about half the poodle population) get tired of the poodle being the epitome of sexy cartoon dog femininity? It’s not their fault if they have to have the girly haircuts. On the other hand, how do I know that all these randy dogs lined up on the couch are boy dogs looking for some lady dog tail? This could be a big doggie buffet of canine polymorphous perversion. I saw a dog hump an ottoman once, so they can’t really be that discriminating.
Dick Tracy, 8/1/06
Al Kinda, who so far has proved to be al Qaeda’s most incompetent terrorist mastermind, manages to pull off something special in panel two: history’s longest-distance pistol-whipping. Seriously, I don’t think that Capitol cop got within ten feet of that gun. Maybe after the Cynthia McKinney incident, the Capitol Police are all just taking a dive whenever anyone swings something cell-phone sized at them, just to keep the media circus to a minimum. Or maybe Kinda’s wacky outfits have something to do with his abilities to work spooky Levantine magic.
Get Fuzzy, 8/1/06
Considering this is Bucky, he’s being remarkably thoughtful by doing it in the bathroom. More than I can say for some rubber-band eating cats I know and live with.
For Better Or For Worse, 6/14/06
Oh, c’mon, Jim, forget this “dividing your ashes” stuff: why not just dig up Marian, bring her back to Ontario, get a place with Iris, and then: yowza! Posthumous three-way!
OK, that was in poor taste. But I had to do something to distract myself from Iris’ grim, death-like visage in the final panel. I mean, Jesus, it looks like she’s ready to drag him off to the underworld right now.
Family Circus, 6/14/06
Ignoring the weird jingoism of this panel for the moment, I have to ask: what the hell are these two watching? Is it the Pictures Of Rocks Against A Blank Background With A Little Folded Index Card For A Label Channel? The ticker across the top of the screen would seem to indicate that they’re watching a cable news station of some sort, but surely there’s an attractive white woman missing somewhere that could preempt this crap.
Anyway, Billy, you just wait until Operation Martian Freedom is launched sometime in late 2007. Then you could can buy your space rocks without adding to America’s trading deficit, because we’ll own Mars’ shiny red space ass.
Holy crap, did the crazy roller-skating bird from Shoe just get propositioned? I’m so stunned by this development that I can’t even work up the energy to feel sorry for him because he screwed it up.
Get Fuzzy, 6/14/06
See, this is why we all love Satchel. Because when he wants you to be appear on a game show that he invents, he hand-delivers a formal invitation. In a sealed envelope.
I’m intrigued by Rob’s claim to be a “grown-up.” I’m not convinced, based on the evidence I’ve seen.
They’ll Do It Every Time, 6/14/06
TDIET takes time out from its usual fare — which is to say the insane, petty rantings of octogenarians — to illuminate the deep structural problems in America’s health care system. This is material so politically charged that usually only Rex Morgan dares to handle it, but TDIET discusses the crisis in its own trademark fashion: by ending with “Oh, yeah!”
Get Fuzzy, 5/22/06
This strip illustrates both why I love Get Fuzzy and why it’s hard to explain to those who don’t love Get Fuzzy why I love Get Fuzzy. The punchline is a pun, and like even the best of its ilk, is deeply groanworthy. But Bucky’s pun-setup dialogue in panel two is just hilarious to me. I love the rhythm of the sentence: “Lemme tell ya, Pinky, if you don’t have a comfy place to sit, you can just walk right on by the ol’ Russian Lit section.” But if it doesn’t strike you as funny, then there’s no way to make you love it, I suppose.
Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/22/06
“Yeah, it’s June alright … she’s attached a gadget to my genitals that starts beeping whenever I’m sexually attracted to another man. Damn this stifling heterosexual facade!”
Marvin and Six Chix, 4/18/06
Boy, here’s a cheery pair. Marvin is funny because, awwww, he’s too young to understand the concept of death! Isn’t that precious? He isn’t constantly stalked by the terrifying specter of his own mortality! How cute!
What on earth have his parents parked him in front of to distract him while they eat/read/have sex/pretend for one precious moment that their life hasn’t been ruined by a baby? Too many inspirational Lifetime movies can warp his tiny developing mind.
Also, if I were forced to wear that hideous grey union suit as a baby, I would have figured out what it meant to die … of embarrassment!
Six Chix, meanwhile, is funny because … well, I guess it’s funny because this old lady is going to die! That’s a knee-slapper, all right. Unlike Marvin, she has a grim, joyless look that says that she’s known all about death for some time, and frankly thinks it’s time to get on with the whole thing. So come on, hellish, grinning demon from the netherword, let’s get this show on the road! We can pick up Tommie’s favorite patient on the way!
If Curtis is going to insist on doing a zany, contrived storyline where Curtis accidentally signs up his dad to give blood, the thing he fears the most, then I have to say I think it’s very clever to do it this way: with the hijinks implied (“I saw it on the news!” “…and the firemen were able to get me down out of the tree!”) rather than actually trying to put everything in panels. Nevertheless, the word “happy” in panel one is smack dab between two of the most inappropriate quotation marks in comics history — and this being Curtis, that’s saying a lot. In fact, I’ve decided that when you abuse the noble quotation mark this badly, you must suffer the wrath of … Quotin’ Margo!
By the way, kids, don’t try to air-quote like this at home; Margo is especially suited for this activity because, as Uncle Lumpy pointed out when I posted the comic this came from, she’s got six fingers on each hand. Yikes!
Get Fuzzy, 4/18/06
OK, seriously Darby, I can’t go down this road with you. Just let me know when you get back from the brink, I’ll be waitin’ for ya.
Get Fuzzy, 4/8/06
Considering the amount of energy that commentors put into the discussion, I feel obliged to weigh in with my opinion on this week’s Get Fuzzy, which, with the conclusion finally revealed, I must say is: a swing and a miss. Still, Get Fuzzy is never about the punchline; “He never did tell good stories,” and Bucky’s deranged attempt to look philosophical, paw gestures included, in panel two, are each funnier than anything that’s happened in Hi and Lois, ever.
Meanwhile, Apartment 3-G’s happy trinity is enjoying a group hug:
Notice the blinding radiance being emitted by Margo, the central figure, proving once again her quasi-divine status. With that topknot, she’s looking positively Buddha-like. Notice also that it’s really mostly Margo hugging Lu Ann, with Tommie, as usual, desperately hoping someone will notice that she’s still there.