Family Circus, 10/23/14
For all its various crimes against taste, humor, and narrative sense, the Family Circus at least treats its pets fairly realistically. Sam, Barfy, and Kittycat don’t exchange wisecracks with the kids in thought balloon form like, say, the dogs in Marvin; they are instead mostly ignored by the children except for when they’re being tormented, which strikes me as an accurate portrayal. Anyway, that all ends today with this terrifying depiction of Kittycat’s facial expression, which proves that he’s definitely in league with Satan, and is perhaps possessed by the Lord of Lies himself. Presumably when the poor creature rejected baptism in the name of Christ, he created a space within himself where the Devil could get in. Now the demon-controlled cat body still purrs in evil joy, even though his heart stopped beating long ago
Funky Winkerbean, 10/23/14
Funky Winkerbean is taking a break from death-terror and gross romance to give us a lighthearted sequence of Les and Funky on their morning jog. (Funky hates jogging but has to get in better shape so he doesn’t die of a massive heart attack, so it’s not a complete break from death-terror, I guess.) Anyway, Les takes this private moment to gently let his friend know that he hasn’t been meeting the pun quota set for every Funkyverse character. “Oh, crap,” thinks Funky. “Uh … it’s a running panter? Panter? Get it, it’s like banter but I’m panting?” Les smirks his approval.
Who can forget those great slang phrases of yore, like “Answer your telephone: ‘This doesn’t concern you!’” Or “I believe the message boy from Western Union is at your door with a telegram: ‘Your opinion is irrelevant!’” Or “A courier from the King has arrived at your castle, bearing a scroll sealed with the royal signet: ‘I don’t need your advice!’” I mean, this strip isn’t up-to-the-minute like Blondie, so we didn’t get a real cutting-edge phrase like “You might want to check your Twitter DMs: ‘Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!’” But this is still a good approximation of how the kids talk, A+ job.
Marvin has been farting out aggressive, mindless defiance literally since the day he was born.
Amphetamine variants, across a socioeconomic scale running from meth to Adderall, are often used as productivity drugs: they focus the mind and, in the short term, make it easier for you to do work, especially work you don’t particularly want to do. By rejecting his friend’s offer of a little illicit worktime pick-me-up, Dag emphasizes his commitment to decadent leisure: as with food, his interest in drugs is entirely sensual, not utilitarian.
Last week Doc Ock skittered off from his penthouse lair to go enjoy the work of his earthquake machine … somewhere … else? “Somewhere else” turned out to be just straight-up chilling on his couch, presumably in a different lair, while his tentacles dangle forlornly, waiting for the artificial earthquake that never comes. Is he supposed to be watching TV? I bet he’s supposed to be watching TV. Everyone in this strip is always watching TV, all the time, and if there isn’t one there when you need it, it’ll just sort of appear, conveniently.
It’s pretty impressive that, in a strip whose punchline is that Marvin’s family is in such constant terror of his poops that everyone keeps careful track of his digestive velocity, the most unsettling part is actually his smug little smile in panel three. “That’s right, my bowel movements are so vile my own grandfather refuses to deal with them! Heh heh.”
Dennis the Menace, 10/16/14
The Mitchells have done the math and figured out that they can afford to meet their legal obligations as parents without interacting emotionally with their son at all! Look at them, smiling to themselves and not even making eye contact with him. Someone just found out what true menacing really is.
Based on the sad, reverent way Jughead has doffed his cap, I’m going to assume that Archie died in the ring.
Apartment 3-G, 10/5/14
Oh my goodness, guys, I don’t want to jinx it, but I think … I think … this Apartment 3-G storyline might finally be over. Tommie has seen Jack mushing the side of his face up against Carol’s face, and according to the community’s strict decency codes, they must now marry or be forever ostracized as sexual degenerates. And, good news! Lily has proven her worth, so she won’t be killed and eaten! Looks like all’s well that’s ended well after weeks and weeks and weeks of literally nothing happening, oh God, so many weeks, so many nothings.
I … guess the “personal product commercials” they’re talking about are ads for erectile dysfunction pills? I’m basing this on the throwaway panel in which Jeff correctly regards the prospect of feeling like an awkward teenager again with horror. But overall this joke is extremely nonspecific, and I’d like to imagine the original was much more explicit and the editor sent it back to the artist saying “Sorry, you can’t really talk about boner pills in the comics section,” and then the artist replied “Dude, are you aware that this strip is 90 percent repulsive scat porn?” and the editor’s like “Yeah, the syndicate doesn’t care about that, it’s a messed up world and we’re all stuck in it, now vague this up some more.”
Happy Fire Prevention Week, everybody! Momma is going to prevent fires wherever possible! Even in places specifically designed to accommodate fires! Is electricity a kind of fire? Some Orthodox rabbis think so, so sure, why not! End all fire everywhere, Momma! Bring down civilization! SEND US ALL BACK TO THE CAVES