Archive for November, 2007

Archie, 11/30/07

Sure, I’m disturbed by the mysterious appearance of the word “GLOM!”, apparently written in mayonnaise and floating in mid-air, in panel two. We all are. But equally troubling is panel one, in which Jughead’s arms are invisible because he appears to be wearing some kind of barber’s smock. Does standard-issue gluttony no longer hold any appeal for our be-crowned slacker? In order to entertain himself, does he need to set little challenges — like, say, grabbing his best friend’s hamburger off his plate using nothing but his face? If so, be glad that GLOM is all we’re seeing in that second panel.

Slylock Fox, 11/30/07

I’m not smart enough to unscramble the items listed here that accompany Slylock’s little How To Be A Nosey Detective Who Offers His Opinions To People Who Don’t Ask speech, but I can tell you that one thing you’re never going to be able to unscramble is MAX’S FACE if he doesn’t stop trying to bust a move on Sly’s woman. Honestly, as if the fact that she’s literally three times taller than him and his natural predator wasn’t bad enough.

Speaking of busting a move, I’m betting that the kid in the back with the bow tie and satisfied expression is quite the hit with the ladies.

Mark Trail, 11/30/07

“Yes, when you’re accused of a crime you didn’t commit, who can prove your innocence? You need Andy the dog, P.I.!”

…

“You’ve been hit with a murder rap, and now you’re looking life in the pen straight in the face! Who do you call? Andy the dog, Attorney at Law!”

…

Well, that’s it. There’s actually no way I can make this any sillier.

For Better Or For Worse, 11/30/07

“You know what might have proved it to them? If they had just been able to watch me sign books and make small talk for another half an hour. But now they don’t really have a sense of how awesome I am. Sometimes Deanna is so selfish!”

Mark Trail, 11/29/07

Johnny’s in jail and his wife is getting in touch with the only one who can help him: nature writer and vigilante Mark Trail! How will Mark help his fiery Québécois friend? By punching the mountie who arrested him? Punching the guards at the jail? Punching the prosecuting attorney, the judge, and every member of the jury at Johnny’s trial? Punching Bull Malone’s corpse? Mark’s the expert, so we’ll just have to wait and see, but it’s sure to be exciting.

Apartment 3-G, 11/29/07

OK, now the narration boxes are just being cruel. “Lu Ann takes a deep breath…” OF CARBON MONOXIDE.

Crock, 11/29/07

“Then she realized that we live in a tent in the desert without any electricity — or, for that matter, phone service.”

Apartment 3-G, 11/28/07

Hmm, perhaps I was too hasty yesterday when I dismissed out of hand the idea that there might be some tension between the A3G narration boxes and the actual narrative. How else to explain panel one, in which we are told that our fearsome foursome are “on the way to the tavern” when in fact they are very obviously standing around in Apartment 3-G’s blandly decorated living room and not going anywhere? The only way they could be less going to the tavern is if they were out on the street walking away from the tavern, though that would be harder to convey in the limited panel space here.

On the other hand, the sudden transition from blinding white to inky black in the second panel is evocative of some kind of movement. Maybe the Professor has whipped up some advanced transporter device, and we’re seeing them walk through a hole in space-time to emerge safely on the tavern’s front steps without having to encounter Manhattan street riff-raff. Or maybe there’s just an entrance to a Prohibition-era secret passageway behind the girls’ kitchen cabinets that connects to every gin joint in town.

Dennis the Menace, 11/28/07

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Dennis with a look of obvious panic on his face; I guess it’s also the first time I’ve seen him with his pants down. I’ll stop going further down this incredibly inappropriate road because I mainly wonder how this can be worked into the increasingly awesome The Luck of Dennis St. Michel, Viscount Stokington. If you ever doubted that the combination of Dennis the Menace and Regency pastiche would be completely hilarious, this blog should put your mind at rest.

Mary Worth, 11/28/07

Man, I thought Mary was cold-hearted over the past few days as she allowed him to believe that she had some gentleman caller over so that he’d run over and fight for her honor. Now she continues to thrust her hound at her erstwhile not-lover as the latter’s respiratory passages begin to seize up. The question now is: who will win this battle of wills for Mary’s heart? Chester’s cuter, but Jeff is probably marginally smarter.

In panel one, Mary is waving Chester’s little paw at Jeff to give some veneer of respectability to her blatant attempt to thrust the dog’s genitals in the good doctor’s face.

Luann, 11/28/07

I’d say that this is supposed to be some sort of commentary on how secular iconography is displacing the true religious significance of the Christmas holiday, but this is the same strip that had town tramp Tiffany playing the Virgin Mary in this pageant. Luann headquarters is lucky that it isn’t a smoldering, lightning-struck hole right now.

Comics Curmudgeon readers are continuing to gather in public and interact with each other outside the context of the Internet! I received the following fab note and pic from faithful reader Gold-Digging Nanny:

Non Compost Mentos and my boyfriend and I met up at Moxie Java a couple week ago for the first ever Boise Mudge Meet. We just now pulled the picture off the camera. Mentos is on the left, I’m in the middle and my boyfriend is on the right. We talked about the origins of Mary Worth, finger-quotin’ Margo, and Dysfunctional Family Circus until a homeless man kicked us out.

If you’d like to be a brave soul and wander away from your keyboard like Non Compost Mentos and Gold-Digging Nanny, check out the meetups forum!

You’ll note that Gold-Digging Nanny is sporting her awesome Bob Weber Jr.-designed Cassandra Cat shirt. Faithful reader KT took his shirt on the road — to Midwest Furfest, where it was a big hit, obviously. Here’s a couple of pics from the journey there — next to the St. Louis Arch and the Cloud Gate (informally known as “the Bean”) in Chicago’s Millennium Park:

Make like Gold-Digging Nanny and KT and buy your shirt today!

Oh, and one more thing: while you were stuffing your face on Thanksgiving day, faithful reader CCJunkie was reveling in yet another TDIET victory, since she’s K. Schroeder of Arlington, Va.!

I’ll let her tell the tale:

It seemed like an odd choice for Thanksgiving, since it was work related — it would have been better on Monday after the holiday weekend when more people would be in that situation. It was inspired by my friends, co-workers, and myself. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve brought work home with excellent intentions and never gotten around to doing it. Now I don’t make as big a production of it as Gaspayne did. Also, I’m a single woman, so no one is nagging me to finish it. Also, my home is not infested with spiders that can spin vast arrays of webs over a briefcase in just two days.

Apartment 3-G, 11/27/07

I’d love to believe that the narration boxes in today’s Apartment 3-G are setting up some kind of tension between presentation and the underlying reality. I’d love to believe that Neil is practically wrenching Tommie’s arm out of its socket and coming close to hurling her on the floor, but in his self-centered way honestly believes that he’s executing a “graceful spin” and a “sweeping dip” — and that Tommie, despite her fears about a dislocated shoulder, is telling herself that she’s being spun gracefully and dipped sweepingly because she wants romance with Neil so badly. I want to believe all that because that would be kind of interesting. But I think this strip is just kind of poorly drawn.

Judge Parker, 11/27/07

I’m sorry, your majesty! Do you think that we down here at the county commission have nothing better to do than to show up at the front gate of all the massive compounds within earshot of every general aviation airstrip we approve? We’ve got Biff Dickens’ campaign donations to count, you know! Why can’t you read the 8-point-font ads in the Notices section of the newspaper to find out about the public meetings on the topic like everyone else?

Hmm … after having written that, I’m not entirely sure who exactly my vitriol is aimed at. I guess that’s because I kind of find everyone in this strip irritating.

Mark Trail, 11/27/07

Meanwhile, someone has framed Johnny Malotte — for murder! Bull Malone’s been shot — but by whom? Someone fired Johnny’s rifle — but who? Is Paul making up for his own perceived failings the only way he knows how? Has Bull faked his own death? Personally, I think the full moon behind Johnny offers a clue — he’s really a werewolf who shot Bull in an animalistic rage when he transformed, leaving him with no memory of the crime when he returned to human status! Sure, the theory needs work — probably a werewolf would have just ripped out Bull’s throat rather than fiddling with some firearm — but I mostly just want to see a Sunday strip about werewolves.

Family Circus, 11/27/07

Frosted flakes scattered across the tabletop, limp and soggy with Jeffy spittle, slowly hardening until they’ll be impossible to scrape off the formica = MOST DISGUSTING IMAGE I’VE HAD TO GRAPPLE WITH TODAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH, COMICS.

Judge Parker, 11/26/07

All hopes that a Judge Parker comic might contain something interesting happening — like, say, a deranged Biff Dickens believing that he’s buzzing the trenches on the Western Front and strafing Sam and Abbey — will of course be dashed. What I’m kind of sad about is that Abbey has been too busy freaking out about her daughter’s burgeoning sexuality to notice that an airstrip was being built right next door to the farm where all her precious pretty ponies frolic. Just think of the exciting action that could have transpired if she had gone to the county meetings to try to block Biff’s permit! The whole thing would have ended up in court, of course, with Abbey represented by Sam, and the newly elected Judge Parker Jr. presiding and handing the case to his ex-partner and campaign manager with a wink. Sadly, whatever plot is actually going to arise is going to be even less interesting than that.

Spider-Man, 11/26/07

Far be it for me to suggest that Peter Parker use his mutant spider-strength (do they say that?) and other superpowers to go on a killing spree (great power, great responsibility, blah blah blah) … but say just for sake of argument that Spidey did take the Persuader apart like a cheap watch, which I assume means, I don’t know, that his outside would be cracked open and enough of his insides would fall out that he wouldn’t work anymore. Since the only person to see him open the proportional can of whoop-ass of a spider would now be dead and dismembered, wouldn’t Peter Parker’s secret identity still be safe? Unless, of course, this blatant act of Persuasion is not taking place in an empty alleyway as the first panel implies, but rather before a crowd of indifferent witnesses. “Say, Phyllis, look over there at that hulking ruffian attempting to stake a claim over that wimp’s wife by force. Darwin in action, ya know? Kid should try that Charles Atlas program!”

Slylock Fox, 11/26/07

Is Harry Ape the same guy as the maroon-suited gorilla-pimp we saw Slylock lasso a couple of weeks ago? If so, he’s fallen a long way, stealing a vanity (possibly the least butch piece of furniture possible) from Foo Foo Cat for his mommy. Actually, with the original owner having a name like “Foo Foo Cat,” purple is probably a much more macho color for the vanity than whatever it was before he painted it. I’m assuming that the squat, besotted thing clutching Harry’s gut is the aforementioned mommy, though I didn’t think that apes demonstrated such striking sexual dimorphism.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 11/26/07

You might recall from previous TDIET appearances that “Kimberly A. Coe” is faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader Trotzenbonnie. She shares with us the tale of her latest triumph:

I sent several ideas to Mr. Scaduto way back in February and he used two but rejected the third. I have a feeling that he just didn’t get it. Well, a few weeks ago I received a copy of the cartoon he worked up for the rejected idea with the attached note: “Hi, Kimberly — A situation similar to your cartoon idea happened to my wife and myself — Our grandson told us to be careful — wipe feet etc. entering his dorm … which was a close second to a hurricane-hit shack in appearance — Thank you for your idea — and Best Ever — Al Scaduto.”
Can you believe that? How the man managed to remember that I sent the idea to him months ago was marvel enough in itself. But he also gave me credit for the cartoon which was totally unnecessary since he decided to work it up based on his own experience. The man is a true prince among men — at least out of all of the men who draw cartoons for a living.

Not to ruin any surprises or anything, but I’ve gotten advance notice from enough readers to know that our dominance of TDIET is going to be particularly strong over the next couple of months. I consider the introduction and endearment this feature to my readers to frankly be one of my greatest achievements.

Blondie, 11/26/07

Dagwood is going to get his carpool high.