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Comics archive!
March, 2008
For Better Or For Worse, 3/31/08
My wife asked me to pass on this message to Ellie, Connie, and Lynn Johnston: IF YOUR ONLY CHILD IS A SON, YOU WILL NEVER GET TO BE A MOTHER OF THE BRIDE. IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW GAY HE IS.
I have no idea what exactly this strip’s patented Foob Pun is supposed to mean. Unless it involves owning your children like barnyard animals. Then you can mate them to suit your purposes and dress them up exactly the way you always fantasized about, and you don’t have to care about what they want or think! OK, it’s beginning to make sense.
Dick Tracy, 3/31/08
The current Dick Tracy storyline, in which a sinister villain is holding a batch of prominent citizens hostage in his mansion and Dick has snuck inside the compound inside an “antique Chinese kwanxoi” (a nonsense phrase we’ve heard repeated about six dozen times at this point) is pointless and dumb. Still, I admit that I’m not immune to the charms of today’s final panel, in which Detective Tracy is slithering out of the belly of this horse like some heavily armed intestinal parasite.
Mary Worth, 3/31/08
N … no! No Toby flashback! No! In the name of all that is good and holy, NO!
It may already be too late to stop it. Still, I’m hoping that Toby’s glassy-eyed stare in panel two is not meant to indicate that she’s casting her mind back to her pre-trophy-wife childhood days, but merely that she’s all Xanax’d to the gills, as usual.
Garfield, 3/31/08
Jon is about start peeing on everything. Garfield is right to leave.
Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/30/08
While Rex does his best to wriggle out of any obligation he might have to fight MRSA, June, it goes without saying, knows what has to be done. Specifically, she’s preparing to protect herself and the clinic from the coming Great Plague by insulating herself behind a wall of hand sanitizer and latex. I look forward to the climax of this story, when the hideous Infected, their flesh falling off in great chunks thanks to MRSA’s ravages, are desperately clawing at the gates to June’s hermetically sealed clinic. June herself, having taken on position of God-Priestess and absolute ruler of the Surviving Clean Ones huddling inside, will be on the ramparts, clad in a hazmat suit and wielding a very large shotgun.
Shoe, 3/30/08
The Elderly, Angry Bird-Man With The Big Beak is quickly becoming my favorite Shoe character. (Admittedly, the competition for this title is not particularly intense.) Earlier this week, we saw him berate a child with nonsense in a vaguely threatening matter; today, beer in hand, he snorts derisively at the delicate sensibilities of us young folks, allowing himself to ruminate fondly on his youth, when he perpetrated acts of unspeakable carnage against the Nazis or striking Wobblies or whoever he fought Back In The Day. The throwaway panels prove that he’s still got it: he probably viciously bludgeoned that poor sap to death with the TV because he talked during Matlock or wore his hair too long or something, and Roz and the Perfersser are too terrified of him to say anything about it.
Spider-Man, 3/30/08
As I’ve frequently noted, the Spider-Man comic strip is some kind of elaborate literary experiment in narrative frustration, carefully designed to prevent anyone from drawing any kind of enjoyment from it on any level whatsoever. Its gamesmanship is all the crueler because it occasionally looks like it might become slightly engrossing, only to dash those hopes soon thereafter. For instance, you might be excited because today’s strip seems to imply that all of the major players in this painful storyline, including Spider-Man himself, are about to be killed by electrocution, thus ending the strip forever. But don’t worry: by Tuesday, the drama will have been resolved in the least interesting way imaginable, probably due to someone tripping and falling.
Family Circus, 3/30/08
Ha ha! Today’s Family Circus proves that Jeffy is dumber than a dog — dumber than a dog named Barfy.
Blondie, 3/29/08
You know, if Blondie is going to make us endure this extremely blah gag, I think we should at least get to see a panicked Dagwood standing ankle-deep in raw sewage. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
Hagar the Horrible, 3/29/08
Holy … crap! Is this the first time we’ve seen Hagar without his helmet? Please, let it be the last! He’s like a damn muppet under there.
Mary Worth, 3/29/08
“Actually, I don’t understand at all, but if I say I do, maybe you’ll shut the hell up. Seriously, stop talking, for Christ’s sake. And what the hell are you doing on my lap?”
Momma, 3/28/08
Generally, I’m willing to let slide the fact that Momma’s title character is depicted as being roughly two feet tall; I chalk it up to artistic license, perhaps meant to metaphorically reflect the deep-seated feelings of personal inadequacies that drive her to her awful control-freakish extremes. But it’s harder to think of it that way when one of her normal-sized children, no doubt tired of waiting for her to toddle on her stumpy legs to Danny’s Place, simply picks her up and carries her. On the bright side, she probably weighs less than thirty pounds, so it won’t cost very much to get her good and drunk.
(Actually, Francis apparently just likes carrying inappropriate people to bars.)
Mary Worth, 3/28/08
That’s it? That’s the big flashback? Little Mary was poor, and her friend’s family was nice to her once, and then her mother remarried and all her problems were over? That’s crap. I’m disappointed in the strip, obviously, but I’m really mostly disappointed in myself, for thinking that this could be cool. As ever, I need to ratchet my expectations far downward.
It’s possible that this flashback has just served to set up the real story. Maybe in the present the older Cathy is down and out, and Mary will finally get to repay her parents’ kindness! Maybe she’ll have to journey to the hellscape that is the Downtown Women’s Shelter! Maybe … oh, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?
Shoe, 3/28/08
I have to admit that I laughed unironically at Shoe’s completely absurd punchline today. Kids, this is why you don’t want to strike up conversations with random old people! They’re demented, and many of them are angry!
Marvin, 3/27/08
Yesterday, several commentors noted that Marvin and Bitsy (yes, Marvin’s dumb dog is named “Bitsy”) were conversing not with their usual thought-balloon-based psychic powers, but in ordinary word balloons denoting normal audible speech — or as normal as any such speech can be when being uttered by a baby and a dog. Naturally, because this is Marvin, I assumed that it was a result of the strip’s general slapdash halfassery, rather than than some momentous change in the inner universe of the characters. But today, we see that Marvin can in fact speak aloud to adults in complete (and rather pompously phrased) sentences. Why? Who knows? Who cares? It’s Marvin. At least they’ve quietly dropped the stupid text speak.
For Better Or For Worse, 3/27/08
Gosh, Liz, I wonder why it doesn’t feel quite right? Maybe because this whole process has involved you letting go of your own hopes, dreams, ambitions, wants, and personality, and now are just being buffeted along by everyone else’s opinions? Or maybe you’re talking about the dress itself, with its built-in whalebone corset, which feels very much not right as it jabs into your ribs.
Gil Thorp, 3/27/08
Hey, everyone, would you like to get ready for taco casserole at home? It’s easy! Here’s how:
- Dump a dozen hard-shelled tacos, with your choice of cheese, ground beef, salsa, and vegetables, into a saucepan.
- Pour in four cans of cream of mushroom soup.
- Stir over medium heat until mixture becomes a more or less undifferentiated, vomit-like mass.
- Pour into possibly leaky brown paper bag; hold sideways.
- Never, ever eat again, because the process has been made forever repellent to you by your experience with “taco casserole.”
Sally Forth and Pearls Before Swine, 3/27/08
Hey everyone, it’s a Sally Forth-Pearls Before Swine crossover! There’s very little I can say that would be funnier than Sally Forth writer Ces Marciuliano’s original blog post on the subject, so you should just go check that out now.
Herb and Jamaal, 3/26/08
That Jamaal! He’s got a “head” that a gal could “rub” all day! If you know what I mean! And I think you do!
Ha ha, just kidding. I’m sure this isn’t meant to be some kind of double entendre; the lady in question is obviously just talking about the head that sits on his shoulders.
Which looks like giant penis, of course.
Man, I wish this cat-calling had been phrased in more typical Herb and Jamaal-style ludicrously nonspecific terms. “Hello, attractive individual! I’d sure like to make pleasurable contact with a portion of your anatomy!”
Beetle Bailey, 3/26/08
The cruel gaslighting of the unlovable and unloved Lt. Fuzz is par for the course in Beetle Bailey; but today I’m just sad that the almost-as-dorky Spc. Chip Gizmo has gotten roped into it. Presumably he’s sick of being a nerdy social pariah and is trying to win points the only way he can: by turning on someone even further down the social ladder than he is. Oh, Chip, they just want your technical skills — they aren’t really your friends! You won’t be getting any offers to hang out or anything, until they need someone to get all the porn viruses off their computers.
Wizard of Id, 3/26/08
I was going to go into a diatribe today about this one, ranting that I haven’t seen an actual child delivering newspapers in more than a decade, and that all subscription billing these days is entirely computerized, with bills arriving in the mail or the charges just being automatically put onto your credit card, but then I remembered that the Wizard of Id takes place in the Middle Ages. So, um: Ha ha! The King of Id likes to torture children in his dungeon!
