Gil Thorp, 7/5/09
HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS GIL THORP HAS A TWITTER! GIL THORP. HAS A TWITTER. And before you say, “Oh, the character Gil Thorp has a Twitter within the context of the fictional Gil Thorp universe, how mundane,” let me just assure you that while Gil Thorp may be a narrative construct his Twitter feed is all too real. Just think of the tweeting slap-fights that will soon break out with Marty Moon!
I am a little concerned about Gil’s statement that he has “a whole beautiful summer to figure it out.” Summertime in Gil Thorp is supposed to be about total deranged lunacy like Gail Martin hiring Coach Kaz, P.I. and Marty Moon getting grifted by Ben Franklin and little girls beating the crap out of each other at gymnastics and Von the teenage DJ protecting his older lady friend from a stalker who can’t spell. Last year’s long, boring continuation of the tale of Elmer the Accidental Illegal Immigrant was a terrible disappointment in this regard, but it will seem like a crazed, non-stop roller-coaster ride on PCP by comparison if we spend the next two months watching nothing but Gil laboriously hunting-and-pecking his way through four or five Twitter updates a day.
Underlying the the absurd, low-stakes suburban antics of Dagwood and his friends has always been a sense of ennui, a feeling that there must be more to life to experience that carpools and borrowed tools. Thus, it’s not surprising that Dagwood and Herb have decided to form a two-man anarchist terror cell, determined to spread destruction for its own sake, offering to their neighbors the joy of being alive that only close encounters with death can provide. Today the bowling alley goes up in flames, tomorrow Dithers Enterprises LLC’s headquarters!
Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/4/09
Good lord, why would Peter ever even consider stepping out on his lovely wife? Estelle the Nutritionist may be fetching enough, but she’d probably look at that plate of lo mein and mutter under her breath about sodium and MSG; Becka, meanwhile, knows just how to drive a man wild, sucking a single long noodle slowly up from the plate while locking her unblinking, reptilian eyes on Pete. Undeniably HOTT, am I right people?
If panel three is any indication, the way that Peter Parker makes moments last forever is by crapping in his pants. That way, if someone asks him, “Peter, what would consider to be your greatest achievement as a professional photographer?” he can say “That’s easy! It was the day I got the Bugle to buy my pictures at twice their usual rates! I remember because that was also the day I pooped in my drawers.”