The Comics Curmudgeon

Metapost: See ya Tuesday

Off for a weekend trip for family fun. New comics Tuesday. To discuss while I’m gone: Josh’s many vacations: Lame or stoopid?

The latest in child management techniques

For Better Or For Worse, 9/29/06

Boy, the icy specter of death sure shut those kids up quick, didn’t it. I think Michael and Deanna need to keep this in mind for the future. “Be quiet, Meredith! Your Grandpa Ted just had a massive heart attack!” “I DON’T HAVE A GWAMPA TED!” “Yes you do, and you love him very much. Now get in bed, dammit.”

A lot of people have asked me for my opinion on the impending death of Grandpa Jim. I’m just glad that it stopped being a source of punny punchlines after the first day or two.

Gil Thorp, 9/29/06

Gil Thorp is well known of its radical leftist views, so I think it’s pretty clear that this latest plot development is part of a larger political allegory. See, student body VP Marcus Newton is a stand-in for US VP Dick Cheney. Just as Newton was responsible for blowing up an innocent mailbox, Dick Cheney is responsible for engineering the invasion of Iraq. And Newton’s swift deposition for his crimes represents the strip’s author’s fantasies that Cheney will be impeached for his own misdeeds and removed from office. And Stormy Hicks is a stand-in for … um … the football-playing drag queen that will replace Cheney. OK, that last part needs work.

Gil Thorp is also well known for its ludicrous hairstyles, but the combination bun-bob on the guidance counselor here is really pushing the envelope. Is it even physically possible?

Blondie, 9/29/06

Welcome to the panopticon, Dagwood! This strip might have actually been funny if everyone at this … whatever it is … hadn’t been theatrically holding their hands to their ears. Then we would just be seeing that Dagwood had been reduced to a quivering, paranoid wreck by his evil ogre of a boss. But this is Blondie, so “funny” isn’t really on the agenda.

Judge Parker, 9/29/06

I look forward to the next week or so of Judge Parker, which will no doubt involve finding a beard on short notice.

Three quickies for Thursday

Herb and Jamaal, 9/28/06

Herb and Jamaal seems to be laboring under the misapprehension that Jamaal and Yolanda are the Ross and Rachel of the comics pages, and that America is on tenterhooks to see how their mutual but repeatedly thwarted romance, which has been drawn out for literally months and months, will turn out. Apparently the climactic moment has arrived in the form of this disturbing double entendre. I’m assuming that the original punchline involved the phrase “I’d toss your salad for you,” but the prudes at the syndicate cleaned it up.

Gil Thorp, 9/28/06

Who are these people? Don’t know. What’s the background to this little incident? Not a clue. Are they blowing up mailboxes? Yes, yes they are. And that frankly is all I need to know to know that Gil Thorp is awesome.

The Phantom, 9/28/06

So our old friend Walker has broken up a little human trafficking ring. Today, the Ghost-With-Stripy-Butt proves that just because you’re a superhero and defender of justice and human rights, doesn’t mean you can’t also be a condescending prick.

Soaper trifecta

Mary Worth, 9/27/06

Well, well, well. We see how little time it takes for the murderous co-conspirators to turn on one another. Shockingly, it’s supposed know-it-all Mary herself who’s deepest in denial. I love the way that the dialogue says “reasoned exchange of views” but the body language says “impending martial arts duel.” I’ve warned Toby about angering Mary before; here the Meddling One looks like she’s going right for the eyes as her first move — a gutsy choice.

Apartment 3-G, 9/27/06

I’m not sure what’s the most important fact to be gleaned from this strip: that Margo never gets drunk at business meetings, or that she always gets drunk on dates.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/27/06

Oh, she’ll be stuck at the DMV all day? Someone here finds that pretty hilarious. Rex Morgan: Husband. Father. Doctor. Asshole.

Contract like an Egyptian

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/26/06

The main gripe in today’s TDIET is ludicrously pointless (contractors sometimes overextend themselves and take longer to finish things than you think they will oh no oh no whatever shall we do) but I’m intrigued by one of the comments from the peanut gallery at the right of the frame: “Those are the same two guys who built the pyramids.” What on earth is this supposed to mean? That they’re immortal and unimaginably old? That they’re sinister Egyptians? That the pyramids, like this Long Island in-law addition, were vast projects that took years to complete and were intended to house mummified corpses?

I was going to rely on my ancient history master’s degree and, more importantly, my repeated viewings of the Ten Commandments to work out a riff about how the pyramids were actually built by tens of thousands of slaves who could just be whipped into submission if they tried anything funny like this, but I decided to quickly check the relevant Wikipedia article, which, since it’s written by thousands of know-it-alls with lots of free time, cannot be wrong, and I found out the following:

Two major theories surround the construction of the pyramids of Egypt. The first theory, suggested by the Greeks, posits that slaves were forced to work until the pyramid was done. A more widely accepted theory in the modern era, however, suggests that the Great Pyramids of Egypt were built by hundreds of skilled workers who camped near the pyramids and worked for a salary or as a form of paying taxes until the construction was completed.

Soooo, um, no whippings, I guess. Still and all, I imagine that none of these skilled workers ever lipped off to pharaoh about how the Tyrians wanted some Ba’al temples built, and the Nubians have this irrigation system they need overhauled, so they’d be back in a few days. But I don’t think we should lose sight of the larger picture here, which is: the little kid is making cracks about the pyramids, what the hell.

Judge Parker, 9/26/06

I continue to enjoy new artist Eduardo Barreto’s work on Judge Parker, but I also wish he’d pick a lettering style and stick with it. This one is an improvement over the previous font, though the fact that it seems to all be in italics makes it looks like everybody is shouting all the time. Which, who knows, maybe they are. All the dialogue seems to end in exclamation points, anyway.

Katherine Harris Parker may have gathered 1,500 signatures, but she managed to obliquelly bring up once more what appears to be Randy Parker’s Achilles’ heel in the bizarro-world that is Judge Parker: his unmarried status. At least Reggie Black has a wife, you … you … not-the-marrying-kind-if-you-know-what-I-mean-nudge-nudge-wink-wink! In real life, of course Randy’s family situation and sexuality would be irrelevant in his bid for the bench, but he would be unable to project the gravitas needed to be judge because everyone would be snickering about his being named “Randy.”

Hi and Lois, 9/26/06

For the record, the most recent changes to the MPAA rating system were the introduction of the PG-13 rating in 1984 and the changing of the X rating to NC-17 in 1990. OH MY GOD STOP THE WORLD I WANT TO GET OFF!

Buzzsaw lovin’

OK, people, I know we’re all very broken up about Aldo’s possible demise (and I emphasize the possible — several commentors have already floated halfway plausible theories about ways reports of his death may have become exaggerated). Clearly, we all care about Aldo — today is, it may not surprise you to know, my heaviest traffic day ever, and there are still two hours left in it. But still, until we get closure, we must move on and enjoy some other strips.

Curtis, 9/25/06

See, like this Curtis: very enjoyable. I freely admit that when it comes to broccoli, I am a whiny little Barry type. I love the way his freakishly huge broccoli crown gets freakishly huger between the second and fourth panels, and the way Curtis, who we all know will eat anything organic and some things that aren’t, regards his little brother’s squeamishness with silent but undisguised contempt. Mrs. Curmudgeon made some broccoli for her dinner tonight, possibly under subliminal incitement from this very comic strip, and our kitchen was filled with the stink lines.

Gil Thorp, 9/25/06

Gil Thorp is so spastically paced that it’s hard to get your footing when it shifts gears, plot-wise, but I’m starting to be intrigued by the tale of Bill Ritter and Stormy Hicks. See, Bill and Stormy are inseparable and the best of pals. Stormy is ostensibly dating Bill’s sister, but he sure never seems to spend much time with her, no doubt because it would cut in on Bill and Stormy’s quality time together, which they mostly spend chainsawing wood. Yep, just a couple of guys in tight jeans and goggles, working some power tools, putting in a good, honest day’s work. One of whom is named “Stormy.” Yep.

The drama part is that Bill’s mom objects to his presence in the family home, refusing even to call him by name (”That’s a name you call a dog — or a lounge singer!”) and only offering as an explanation for her enmity the fact that “I went to school with that boy’s father!” Since interracial romance has already been covered in this strip, I await breathlessly to find out just what Mrs. Ritter has against poor Stormy. Meanwhile, he and Bill will keep working out their feelings with their chainsaws. Yep.