You know, sometimes, when it comes to Marvin, I feel like something of a scold. I mean, the poop joke has a long and honorable tradition across cultures. I like poop jokes. I make poop jokes. So why does the constant steaming stream of poop jokes in Marvin make me react with such humorless horror? I think today’s strip answers that question pretty well, which is that they’re not funny, and are actually pretty revolting above and beyond the whole poopiness aspect of it. Like, does anyone anywhere enjoy the image of a baby gleefully shoving brown (brown!) food down his maw while thought-balloon-boasting that he’s shitting at the same time? Do grandmas chuckle and cut out this strip and hang it on their refrigerator, because they like the image of organic matter going into one end of a human and coming out the other in a sort of awful continuous flow? No. I’m guessing no. I’m hoping no. Please, please, let the answer be no.
Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/10/15
“Haw haw! No, but seriously: we’re going to keep on murderin’ each other for no good reason, just like the biblical patriarchs.”
I have a hearing aid, and one of the best things about it is the ability to turn it off. I’m not deaf and this doesn’t envelop me in a cone of silence or anything, but in public situations when I’m hearing conversations I don’t want to hear, it just kind of takes the edge off, you know? Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that having hearing deficits is no picnic, but you always have to look on the bright side, and having an excuse to willfully misconstrue sexual advances from pluggers is a very, very bright side.
For a town where sanitation is so important to the local psyche that it has inspired a local simian trickster-god, Westfinster’s trash situation is actually kind of out of hand. Nobody ever seems to actually put their garbage inside bags like civilized people; instead, organic matter is just packed into metal cans and apparently left there long enough to become a more or less homogenous slurry. Today we see that this repulsive garbage-goo comes in brown and green varieties, possibly as a result of an ill-advised attempt to implement a composting system.
Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/9/15
Clovis’s main schtick in this strip is to be the third-string character who has a rocky relationship with his wife, but I find today’s strip particularly poignant. His marriage may be troubled, but at least his wife hasn’t strayed — and yet he actually looks distraught by this fact. Perhaps something as obvious as an affair would be what was needed to convince them to finally give up on their painful union; mere emotional incompatibility isn’t enough, as much as it’s destroying them emotionally.
Today’s Momma features the usual Momma-Francis infantilization routine amped up to truly uncomfortable levels and manages to slip a fart joke in as well, but at least we can give thanks for the fact that breast-feeding was out of vogue for middle class families when Francis was a baby.
OK, fine, it was probably a little harsh for me to say it was stupid for Spider-Man to go around fighting crime with his cell phone on his person, since smartphones are incredibly useful objects for communication, wayfinding, and tracking down info fast. But still, the practical question remained: where would he keep his phone in his skintight costume? Well, today we learn the answer! (He keeps it right next to his balls.)
Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/9/15
“Only good things have happened to me so only good things can happen to me! I’m on a nonstop rocketride to the moon, emotionally! For a little kid, I sure never have heard of what happens to characters in Greek tragedies who exhibit hubris!”
You’re a plugger if one of your Facebook friends died more than a year ago but nobody’s bothered to tell you.
The idea of Santa as an immortal being who’s been delivering Christmas presents for centuries is ridiculous, of course, but the truth behind the legend is much darker than most people can imagine. In fact, “Santa” has been a whole succession of different individuals down through the centuries. In this way “he” is kind of like the Phantom; but whereas the Phantom’s identity passes down peacefully from father to son over the generations, Santa-ness must be taken, with each new Santa defeating his predecessor in single combat to the death. And now notorious asshole and megalomaniac Heathcliff has come to violently insert himself into this ancient tradition.
There’s been a lot of dilution of what exactly a plugger is over the years, but I refuse to accept a definition under which just being born in the three-week span from December 15 to January 5 makes you a plugger. D’ya hear me, Pluggers? This is bullshit. How about this: you’re a plugger if you’re cheap and lazy enough to get excited when it turns out your friends and loved were born around Christmas, because that means you only have to buy them one gift a year.
In the wake of Sony’s decision to pull The Interview from theaters after threats from (probably?) North Korea, look for a lot more deranged supervillains to get involved in the movie business. Today it’s just a question of whether a movie should get distribution or not, but soon these despotic maniacs will demand control over casting decisions as well!
Apartment 3-G, 12/22/14
I can barely maintain interest in what’s going on in Apartment 3-G these days, but it looks like Margo has managed to alienate yet another personal assistant, requiring Lu Ann to put on a pair of glasses and pretend to be “Clara” again.