Wearing a beret and striped shirt and hitting people with a baguette would be a good wrestling gimmick, to be honest
Gil Thorp, 2/3/23
My favorite thing about new-look Gil Thorp is that Gil now has a coaching enemy in Luke Martinez. Previously, all Gil’s animus was reserved for the media in the person of Marty Moon, while he and his bland rival coaches would just shake hands manfully at the end of games and trade respectful banter. Well, no more! Coach Martinez is, like Richard III, determined to prove a villain, and he really leans into it, like getting all singleted up and telling a wary group of teens about that time he absolutely pile-drived those French wimps who thought they could take him down. He also has an assistant whose full-time job is to monitor what Gil’s up to and keep Luke up to date on rivalry opportunities. Not sure what possible direction for this is funnier: that Coach Martinez might enter the Lift-A-Thon himself, raising money for the Milford athletics department and outraging the Valley Tech school board in the process, or if he just shows up in the crowd and tries to taunt Gil into herniating himself.
Dick Tracy, 2/3/23
I sincerely hope we never learn even a little about whatever Willie Lumpkin’s deal is. As far as I’m concerned, his whole life is just mopping the floor for Mr. Goodman, and if some cop comes in yammering about snipers and roof access, that’s none of his business. It broke up the monotony a little bit, but Tracy tracked in some dirt which means more mopping, so it’s all a wash, really.
Beetle Bailey, 2/3/22
Speaking of monotony, you eve think about how awful and boring existence as one of the supporting one-note characters in Beetle Bailey must be? Cookie’s whole deal is that he’s the cook, but he can’t taste anything, hasn’t been able to taste anything in years. That heart on his bicep used to be bright red, but now it’s fading to nothingness. Beetle can spare a single panel of open mouthed horror, but then he’s going to walk out the door and Cookie will be left alone again, endlessly stirring a pot of something orange that he’ll never be able to taste.