Tales from the can
Today’s Curtis is a truly epochal event! It’s not because Barry casually implies that Michelle is some kind of sinister pagan priestess, performing voodoo rituals in her lavishly appointed apartment. Ha ha, no, that’s just standard-issue Curtis madness. And it isn’t because we catch a rare glimpse of Curtis’s head without his hat perched upon it, though that’s always intriguing. (It is kind of amusing that he’s carefully combing it into place only to cover it up with his trademark chapeau for the next 23 hours.) No, what’s really important is that this is the probably the first newspaper comic in living memory in which the punchline (or, at least, the unsettling sentence occupying the space where the punchline would normally be) is being delivered by someone who’s urinating. Since I blessedly grew up an only child, I have to ask: did any of you ever wander into the bathroom and engage in banter with your sibling, and then one of you just stone cold started peeing? Because that’s … that’s gross. It’s gross if you did that.
Mary Worth, 8/11/09
“Yes, it’s true; my lectures, while inspiring and life-affirming, tend to attract the worst kind of perverts: relationship voyeurs. Always trying to overhear sincere conversations between two beloveds, getting their rocks off on emotional intimacy … YEAH, YOU IN THE GLASSES! YEAH, I SEE YOU! SICKO! I’M NOT SIGNING YOUR BOOK NOW!”
No, but seriously, I certainly hope that this blonde lady is either a snoopy reporter about to question Lawrence about his many monstrous crimes or carrying Lawrence’s love child. Because if we’ve got four days ahead of us of Lawrence and Delilah emoting weepily in Lawrence’s hotel room about the depth and majesty of their love, after all the promise this storyline had, I will be … not so much angry as just disappointed.