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August, 2006
Shoe, 8/31/06
The punchline of this joke is at once bland, hackneyed, vaguely sexist, told better elsewhere, and immediately forgettable — classic Shoe, in other words. Of more interest to the comics student is Roz’s wide-eyed, head-bobbling reaction. She looks like the Perfersser just told her that the Health Department is planning to shut her diner down because of a psittacosis outbreak, not because she’s just been fed some dumb “male birds are from Mars, female birds are from Venus” shtick. (By the way, Perfesser, girl birds have feathers, not hair.) Is she not used to this sort of lameness? How long has she been in this damn strip?
The Phantom, 8/31/06
I have to admit to being a little dissapointed with the conclusion of this Phantom storyline, with the Ghost-Who-Yuks-It-Up-With-Midgets seeming pretty blasé about allowing Chatu the Shirtless Terrorist to escape and shirtlessly terrorize another day. Now we know that, for the Phantom, the big thrill is not bringing bare-torsoed ne’er-do-wells to justice, but instead setting things up so that you can really screw with their heads a few years down the line.
Luann, 8/31/06
Hey, everybody! The Toni and Brad Show’s back! Just like we’ve all been waiting for all this time! Right? Right?
Right?
[awkward silence]
In an effort to say something nice, I’ll say this: I like the way Reddy’s eyes are cast sarcastically to the right in the first panel. I’m imagining an elaborate series of electrodes attached to Brad’s ape-like mug so that the li’l safety robot can display a full panoply of lifelike facial expressions.
Mary Worth, 8/31/06
And heeeeere comes the bludgeoning.
For Better Or For Worse, 8/30/06
Never has the flabby make-it-up-as-you-go-along nature of the Foobian plot been on display as nakedly as it is here. I mean: How far away is Liz’s apartment from her parents’ house that she would considering moving back there to shave a little off her commute? And she’s been back down south for, what, three months now? Don’t they have leases in Canada, or are Pattersons just allowed to break them with impunity? And doesn’t Ellie have any say over whether her totally adult and self-sufficient daughter decides to up and move back in, or is she just going to go on with the passive “It’ll happen if it happens” attitude? These are questions that I want answered. In return, I’ll answer April’s question about why Liz wouldn’t want to move back home: it’s because she’s, like, 26, and living at home when you’re 26 and have a job is for looooooosers.
Dennis the Menace, 8/30/06
Speaking of losers, Dennis is continuing his trend of eschewing menacing, preferring instead to hone his floral-themed dinner-table bon mots. It actually took me about 45 seconds to grasp the “bud”-”blossom” wordplay going on here, and I finally only got the joke because of the presence of the rose on the dinner table, which I assume was intentional. Note to cartoonists: If you need to put in a visual aid to forward the cause of a pun in your comic, your pun needs work.
Slylock Fox, 8/30/06
Apparently it’s terrified prey week in Slylock Fox. As if the terrified beaver wasn’t traumatizing enough, check out the discarded ribcage, presumably of one of his family members, next to the crocodile on dry land. Today’s scene of the savagery of nature provides a backdrop for a true/false quiz. “True or False: Sometimes things that are cute and basically good die in agony for so that something more powerful and vicious can survive. (Answer: So very true!)”
Lots of chatter in the comments on advertising and other forms of revenue on this site. If you’d really like to know the details and ask me questions, check out this thread in the forums.
Slylock Fox, 8/29/06
Ah, what a cute little game in which little kids can hone their powers of observation … and learn that adorable, tiny mice live in a world of constant fear, knowing that at any moment a powerful predator might swoop down out of the darkness and rip their frail bodies apart with its ravenous beak and razor-sharp claws, devouring them so quickly that they’re no doubt still alive as they slide down its gullet. By extension, kids also learn that the world is full of things that are powerful and threatening, and that they have no hopes of surviving in it, and so should just stay inside their safe, suburban homes, never taking risks or exploring, until eventually they graduate from college with no life skills or sense of wonder or adventure. Slylock Fox: Breeding a generation of weaklings since 1987.
Pluggers, 8/29/06
Stupid Plugger! There’s no porn in there!
Pluggers, 8/28/06
I have nothing particularly hateful to say about today’s Pluggers, which is a good thing, because “Jason Rhea” of “Littleton, CO” is none other than Comics Curmudgeon faithful reader and occasional commentor Racing Js! So, congrats, Jason, on being the first Curmdgeoner Cardinal (but not, we hope the last) to get your home-spun wisdom enacted by freakish beast-persons.
Meanwhile, the comics’ other great reader-entry feature is proving itself to be a tougher nut to crack.
They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/28/06
Could this be the most cold-hearted TDIET yet? Allow me to paraphrase: “When he was healthy and in the prime of his life, Grandpa Croaker enjoyed his body’s youthful strength, and thought nothing of walking from place to place. But now that the ravages of age have broken down his joints and sucked the energy from his soul — howzat? — he’d prefer not to walk if he doesn’t have to.” The name “Croaker” is just piling on, letting us know that his inability to walk to the corner is a herald of his swiftly impending death. Oh yeah!
Gil Thorp, 8/28/06
Last summer, square-headed superteen Von Hanley managed to defeat a stalker with just a bunch of flashlights and his quick wits; this year, he, Marty, and Mandy, presumably after repeated viewing of The Sting, are apparently conspiring together to grift the grifter, and prove that two wrongs really do make a right. Since golf isn’t Von’s forte, and our three wannabe hustlers probably have about 130 IQ points between them, I have to assume that once Mandy arrives, she and Marty are just going to hold Ben Franklin down while Von administers a savage beatdown with his $4 Salvation Army putter.
For Better Or For Worse, 8/28/06
God damn, is Liz going to have all of her problems solved by women leaving their husbands?
By the way, Liz is way, way too excited about the opportunity to teach little suburban children. Yeah, it’s her life dream and blah blah blah, but you can’t tell me that any job short of, oh, I don’t know, the Governor General’s Official Fluffy Kitten Petter And Delicious Chocolate Eater would generate the kind of deranged enthusiasm portrayed here. No, her over-the-top reaction to a mere interview (which magically morphs into a job offer the moment she hangs up the phone), combined with her freakishly dilated pupils, the slovenly nature of her hovel, and her inability to focus on one thing long enough to pour her mac and cheese out of the pot and into a bowl can indicate only one thing about Liz: she’s all methed up. I for one look forward to the heartbreaking lessons about drug abuse that we’re about to learn.
People, people: the moment you’ve all been waiting for has at last arrived. Aldomania 2006 merchandise is ready for purchase!
In anticipation of overwhelming demand, we have four shirt styles available: a ringer T, a junior baby doll T, a baseball jersey, and a junior raglan. PURCHASE! CONSUME! CONSUME! I DEMAND IT!
And once you’ve purchased and consumed, you need to send me a photo of yourself wearing your newly acquired product. Faithful reader bootsybooks recently let her friends and neighbors know where they can find more information about licorice:
C’mon, Comics Curmudgeon-gear purchasers, I need those pictures! I don’t have a “Hat Man” hat pic yet, which is clearly a crying shame. Just to show that I’m not above being pictured in ludicrous poses, I offer you this picture of myself in my snazzy finger–quotin’ Margo shirt:
Yes, I am at the Minnesota State Fair making finger quotes in front of a finger-quotin’ bear carved out of a log with a chainsaw. You kind of had to have been there.
Finally, for those of you who didn’t see it in the comments, you should all of you, those of you who enjoy 17th century poetry and those who do not, appreciate faithful reader Uncle Lumpy’s homage to our favorite mustachioed stalker and Andrew Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress.
To Aldo’s Coy Mistress
HAD we but world enough, and Time,
This coyness, Mary, were no crime –
An age to lounge beside the pool,
And suffer some damn chinbeard fool,
To squander half a human life
Conversing with his moron wife,
To gab the gab of Charterstone,
And scarf croquettes with my sweet crone.
O Mary! If but time allowed,
You could have done as you have vowed:
Be true to Jeff, your noble doc!
Keep one eye, dreaming, on the clock
That when he’s fixed up the displasia
Of every lip in Southeast Asia,
He’ll break free of his houseboy’s arms,
And fly to your uncertain charms.
But I, like water on the stone
Infest the nest that Jeff has flown
And — mixing metaphors with glee –
Insinuate my love on thee!
The fear, the rage, the angry glances
Which now repel my sweet advances
In time will grow attenuated
While my own Fires rage unabated.
In Time my Mojo I’ll unleash,
For time is on my side — capisce?
But always at my back I hear
A distant siren, drawing near
Foreshadowing my interdiction
By those of my old jurisdiction
Who think I may have killed my wife –
The fingerprints, the bloody knife,
Do little good to exculpate me –
I fear a jail cell may await me!
So Mary, Mary, shed that dress –
Though lips say “no”, your eyes say “yes”.
As much as I enjoy the chase
My trophy shall be your embrace.
And no fair rose will be as sweet
As your thin lips when mine they meet!
I’ll stake my claim and take my rest
Upon your desiccated breast
Just like those swans who mate for life.
So don’t you make me get my knife!
Oh, pardon me, you needn’t worry –
Just move it, bitch, I’m in a hurry!
And don’t you dare to cry out, “AAUGH” –
I’ve tapped your phone! I’ve read your blog!
Don’t sink my heart in dark despair –
I demand this be a love we share!
Who spurns the Stalkeroo’s affection
Can take a nap ’til Resurrection.
Oh, and lest we forget our cartoon favorites of yesteryear: Fencepost Frank has a MySpace account. (If you need a refresher on Frank, one of the most awesome Rex Morgan, M.D. incidental characters ever, click here.)
