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For Better or for Worse, 9/2/04

I grew up in Buffalo, New York, not a stone’s throw from Canada, and for anyone who grew up a stone’s throw from Canada, one of the main things you know about Canada as you’re growing up is that the legal drinking age there is 19. This has interesting social ramifications. For instance, not only can 19-year-olds go into Canadian bars, but they can also go into Canadian strip clubs.

And so, just as there are enormous fireworks warehouses mere yards over the Indiana border, dozens of strip clubs line the streets of the Canadian towns just across the Niagara River from Buffalo. (These clubs were collectively known as “the Canadian ballet,” a euphemism I find terrifically amusing to this day.) One of them, Mints, kept up a constant barrage of advertisements on Buffalo radio stations, each of which ended with the club’s tagline: “Where by law … you see it all!”

Now, because I was a profoundly geeky teenager, this phrase did not fill my mind with images of gyrating, fully nude strippers; rather, I visualized the debate about the law in the Canadian Parliament. Was it part of the Government’s programme, as presented by the Governor-General in the Speech from the Throne? Or was it a Private Member’s Bill? Did some MPs argue that the discreet covering of certain body parts should be permitted in some cases? Or were the Government and Opposition united in backing nothing less than full, state-mandated nudity? However the process went, surely the result strongly argued for benefits of parliamentary democracy.

You can see why I didn’t date much in high school.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying that Ellie is profoundly overreacting here in saying that April looks “like a pole dancer.” Not only is her strangely formal dress not particularly trampy by the standards of the what the kids today are wearing, but, in the northern, quasi-socialist paradise that the Pattersons call home, it would actually be illegal for a pole dancer to be so attired.

On an unrelated note: For Better or for Worse has continuing storylines and characters who age in real time, but also has daily punchlines. Is it a soap opera strip or not? Discuss.

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For Better Or For Worse, 1/5/05

We bring you this scene of catty gossip mainly so I can remark on the name of Liz’s friend in red: “Shawna-Marie.” I think that’s funny. It’s like she’s a Québécois hillbilly!

Something that just occurred to me: Do Canada’s draconian language laws require Lynn Johnston to pen a French-language version of the For Better Or For Worse dialogue? I notice she’s real careful about getting the accents right on Thérèse’s name. You sure don’t want the Bloc Québécois all up on your ass, lemme tell you.

Incidentally, I’ve read this comic strip every day since I was about seven years old and I have no idea who those other two girls are. I mean, I know one of them is “Shawna-Marie,” but you know what I mean.

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For Better Or For Worse, 1/17/05

You know, I’ve been on plenty of long, dull car trips with my mother, and I’m pretty sure that she’s never subtly encouraged me to pursue someone else’s spouse. Mostly we just play word games (“My name is Cathy, and I live in Cleveland and I sell … canaries!”).

I’ve been told (and as usual am too lazy to do the actual research to back this up) of a charming tradition in Mexican telenovelas: when the series is about to end, all the stops of these usually ever-so-subtle programs are pulled out, and all the main characters meet melodramatic, often fiery and violent, deaths. For Better Or For Worse is in fact going to wrap up in the near future, and perhaps that’s the plan for the strip. Elizabeth ends up in a vicious catfight with the hugely pregnant Thérèse for Anthony’s love. Michael and Deanna are pursued through the Northwest Territories by the Mounties after finally killing Deanna’s mother in a fit of wholly justified rage. John starts prescribing himself potent opiates and spends most of his days staring at his train sets in a blissed-out haze. And Ellie and April join forces to finally track down Kortney and give her what’s coming to her.

Elizabeth’s paper coffee cup is a nice visual touch. Presumably they’ve taken time out from plotting adultery to make a quick layover for supplies at the Stop N’ Go/Arrêtez Et Allez.

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For Better Or For Worse, 1/26/05

You mean she’s “screwing,” right?

Just to show you the impact this blog has had on my home life: my fiancée came running into my home office around 8:45 a.m. today as I was enjoying my morning Coca-Cola, practically besides herself with glee at today’s FBOFW. Now, as noted, she’s a sex ed pro, and in fact works with teens for her job, and has never heard any of these euphemisms used by actual adolescents. Maybe it’s because they’re Canadian-specific terms. Can one of our north-of-the-border readers confirm or deny? Anyone? Jim Morrison? Anyone? Whatever the case, I urge all of you to start using these terms in your daily conversation, if only because calling a 14-year-old girl a “gig” or “roadside” is more polite than calling her “a big slut” or “jailbait.”

Non-Canadian-sex-slang observation: In the FBOFW patois, children almost always say “an'” for “and.” This makes a certain sort of sense, though poor Elizabeth is still doing it at age 23 or so.

As a final note, as I was putting the finishing touches on this post, faithful reader Ken emailed me the following note: “Could you please comment on today’s For Better Or For Worse? I am in awe of it.” I think that about sums up my feelings.

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Faithful readers, the day you’ve been waiting for pretty much your whole lives is here. Now, thanks to the good people at CafePress.com, you can purchase high-quality shirts and mugs with your favorite bizarre and incomprehensible quotes from the daily comics. First up is are t-shirts commemorating the catchphrase that swept the nation after it was bellowed at Margo, Apartment 3-G’s enslaved brunette:

Next are some shirts that salute north-of-the-border jive talk from For Better Or For Worse. If you wear this shirt, your friends and school will know that you’re no foob:

And finally, enjoy a little stimulation with your morning coffee when you drink out of a mug adorned with one of Mark Trail’s pearls of pharmacological wisdom:

Act fast if you like these: since I’m too cheap to upgrade beyond the free version of CafePress.com’s story, I can only have one graphic per type of shirt, so I will probably be rotating in new stuff as it comes up. To see what these images would look like actually on the products themselves (and, of course, to buy said products) just visit the Comics Curmudgeon store at http://www.cafepress.com/joshreads. Remember, every penny of profit goes to help pay for my bandwidth costs, and, if I cover that, to help pay for my sweet, sweet booze.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/4/05

Kudos to FBOFW! Generally speaking, pop culture depictions of the first three years of any human’s life are shown through some sort of rosy, gauzy filter, depicted as a nonstop cavalcade of pure unadulterated love and hugs and family togetherness and candy canes and happy happy oogie woogies boo boo bean. Too often left out are the crapping and the puking and the screaming and the screaming and the OH MY GOD THE SCREAMING MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP. I mean, I know about this stuff and I don’t even have kids. But too often if you bring any of this up, especially if someone who has chosen to bring forth precious new children into this vale of tears we call “life,” you get accused of hating children in general, of hating your interlocutor’s children in particular, and of hating America.

Fortunately, our friends the Pattersons have already proven their hatred of America by their insistence on being Canadian, so FBOFW can depict the non-Ann-Geddes-little-angel side of toddlerdom with impunity. Though good taste has prevented them from taking on the feces and the vomit, they’ve tackled the screeching with gusto. Fortunately for our protagonists, in the strip after this Michael and Deanna were offered rent-free use of the apartment above them by their landlord (more proof of Canada’s capitalism-spurning anti-American hate). But at least we got to see them get close to the breaking point, which wouldn’t happen in, say, Marvin, even if they don’t actually snap.

Apartment 3-G’s Mim, who recently declared that her baby-sitting experience has, like, totally prepared her for motherhood, is clearly someone who needs to be reading this strip. Her rendezvous with Chuck is inching forward ever so slowly, but I thought this exchange was worth reproducing:

Why would Margo be mean? Um, Lu Ann, where have you been? She doesn’t need a reason — she’s Margo!

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/10/05

Jeez, April, make your mind! First you’re horrified by and judgmental of Becky’s slutty, slutty ways, then you’re boasting to your older brother about the fact that you woo men into naughty thoughts with your hot, just-barely-post-pubescent bod. It’s wrong on so very many levels.

According to the official FBOFW Website, April was introduced into the strip when Lynn Johnston had yearnings to have another kid. I guess it’s a sort of artistic integrity to have her wish-fulfillment creation become the most difficult of the bunch to manage and keep out of the free clinic. (Though I guess they’re all free in Canada, eh?)

Meanwhile, once I got past the boastings of little miss jailbait (or, as they say in Quebec, “petite mademoiselle amorce de prison”), I became rather fascinated with Michael’s reactions to things. There’s something weird and stilted about his dialogue here (“Hooo!” “You, April … are my baby sister!”). It becomes extremely hilarious if you imagine Bill Cosby (preferably as Cliff Huxtable) reading the text. It even works with his weird “slow burn” look in the last panel.

Anyway, this strip is amusing in its own right and a welcome respite from the days and days of “Thérèse is an evil, evil, evil, evil person” we’ve had to endure all week so far. Is this the sort of twisted psychosexual conversations that typically occur between siblings? Makes me glad to be an only child.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/20/05

So very, very disturbing. So very, very, very low on my list of potential FBOFW erotic fantasy sequences, coming in just below the Deanna’s mom-on-Lovey lesbian scene. I hope that, when I get so old that my sex life happens entirely in my head, my meanderings aren’t so clichéd.

Now, many of you have already remarked on this unpleasant bit of business in the comments section, so what do I have contribute? Well, in panel two there, if those where real Greek letters, Grandpa would be getting something called rsrreums poured on his head. There, no need to thank me, that’s what we in the biz call a value-add. Those six semesters of Greek sure were a good investment for the future. Yesiree.

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Foob, everyone’s favorite made-up Canadian slang word, made an appearance in today’s FBOFW:

Of course, true comics devotees know that, unlike January’s now infamous made-up sex slang, foob has an origin that was actually depicted in the strip: it’s a portmanteau that April and her 4 Evah bandmates created by combining fool and boob. It’s a neologism that I find charming enough to overlook the fact that any modern-day 12-year-old would only use the word boob to refer to the part of the female anatomy of most interest to the artists at Blondie and Rex Morgan, M.D.

Anyway, the comics-reading public at large apparently does not remember this definition, and as a result, I knew that foob made an appearance in today’s strip before I even opened the paper. I got a mini-surge in traffic today that was almost entirely driven by people plugging foob into search engines in a desperate attempt to figure out what this crazy jibber-jabber in the comics pages was all about. Even now, at midnight, they’re still going at it, as you can see from this screenshot from my statistics site:

(Yes, yes, I know: one of these things is very much not like the others. And no, I don’t know how cricket figures into it either.)

Anyway, all this search engine talk made me realize that it’s been ages since I last posted some amusing search engine terms, so here’s some recent favorites: “family circus is not funny” (duh), “do you still love me as much as you used to hagar the horrible,” “baby moses bath cartoon” (this one keeps cropping up — can somebody explain it to me?), “site joshreads.com not funny” (hey!), “nude pictures of andy capp,” “how to make a character like beetle bailey and ziggy” (it’s not hard), “joshua fruhlinger birthday” (it’s July 17th, but I accept late presents as well as early ones), and, in an example of what I can only hope is someone using search engine terms to mess with my mind, “mary worth porn comics.”

This is as good an opportunity as any to share with those of you who don’t read the comments two excellent poetic efforts that have appeared there over the past few days. First off is this impressive sonnet from daChipster, whose heart ached for Anna’s barren state before today’s dramatic revelation:

As trees with blighted roots can bear no food
or those with buds untimely nipped by frost
So Anna cannot raise her Brian a brood
She might as well just keep her stockings crossed.

Enough already please quit with the cryin’
It doesn’t matter what you say or think
These ruminations by the Wife of Brian
Are just a waste of bad cartoonist’s ink

Why not adopt some orphan Asian child
With jet black hair and oddly-tinted skin
Or buy a kid from some gig that’s been wild
Like Tommy’s little roadside neice — Miss Mim

Whatever, just get over giving birth
‘Cause you’ve been cursed by that Witch, Mary Worth

Less highbrow, but just as satisfying, is fuzzmaster’s take on Becky’s internal monologue today, set to the tune of “We Will Rock You”:

Foob-foob-hottie; foob-foob-hottie
Lady you’re a gig make a big noise
Playin’ in the street gonna be a grade 12 some day
Hangin’ high on yo’ case
You big disgrace
Hands-on, been there all over the place
You are you are roadside!
You are you are roadside!

Finally, after my recent cutting, classist comments about the relationship between working men and professional women, I feel compelled to relay the details of a brush with the proletariat I had toady. We woke up this morning to find that our hot water heater had at last given up the ghost and was leaking water all over the basement. Since my fiancée’s typical workday involves crazy stuff like “putting on clothes” and “leaving the house,” I was left to deal with the domestic crisis. By noon, I had secured the services of a father-son team of hot-water-heater experts, who, while showing no evidence of tooth loss, did manage to present me with a Fence Post Frank-style horrifyingly large bill. Anyway, after the new, non-leaky heater was installed, the older of the two gentlemen informed me that “you’ll have hot water again by the time the Mrs. gets home.” “I think you mean the Ms.,” I corrected him. After that, he just made a series of whipping noises, which I didn’t really grasp the significance of.

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In a desperate attempt to stay up-to-date on the dailies, I offer you: “Seven sentences about four comics.”

Mark Trail, 3/24/05

Fresh from battling drug dealers, Mark will now have to choose between making either a famous celebrity or this crazy old hermit cry. I see it as a win-win.

Momma, 3/25/05

Number of Terry Schiavo-inspired jokes spotted in the comics pages: 1. Number of tasteful and/or funny Terry Schiavo-inspired jokes spotted in comics pages: 0.

B.C., 3/26/05

OK, I know I just said this, but it bears repeating. “What the fuck?”

For Better Or For Worse, 3/27/05

On Easter, this comic makes the risen Christ weep.

(And don’t worry, I’ll pick the best of the haikus soon, I promise…)

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/30/05

The baby-pimping horror doesn’t end here, though. Not by a long shot.

For $75, you earn the right to take the little angel to next year’s “Take Your Child To Work Day” and earn the cooing adoration of all your coworkers.

For $250, you can give this precious gift from God the name of a beloved, deceased relative. For the corporate rate of $400, you can christen the precious darling with the name of your newest product as part of your marketing strategy.

For $800, this delightful child will, from the ages of seven to fourteen, be legally bonded to you and your heirs as an indentured servant, cleaning your home, cooking your dinner, and doing whatever other light manual labor you may require.

For $1,500, you get to eat the baby.

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For Better Or For Worse, 4/2/05

Good to see that breaking off her friendship with Becky hasn’t put a stop to April’s plan to become a gig. Maybe they’ll engage in a competition of hands-on-ness: who gets the first rose tattoo on her ankle? The first boyfriend with a criminal record? The first venereal disease?

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For Better Or For Worse, 4/19/05

OK, the “slutty 12-year-old girls of Canada” thing in FBOFW has gone past laughable and unsettling and is headed into insane moral panic territory. To ask a halfway-serious question: does anyone remember from the days when Elizabeth was in junior high whether her burgeoning sexuality was repeatedly dissected for our squirmy edification? Because you know, before the Clinton administration and all those damn blow jobs, no one under the age of 21 ever thought about sex. (His pernicious influence has even spread to Canada!)

Seriously, I’m all for 12-year-old girls lusting after hot twentysomething dentists with stupid facial hair — it’s part of the natural order of things. What I can’t get behind is the lusty use of the word “morsel.” Ick. The block-lettering font makes it all the harder to ignore. And the interjection “Hooo!” just leads me to think about a certain monologue involving the phrase “sexual playtoy” that I promised my therapist that I would try to forget about.

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I’ve been plugging the merchandise steadily, but you and I both know that it’s been getting a bit stale. That’s why tonight I’ve taken some of your ideas and some ideas the Future Mrs. C. and I have been percolating on and revamped the Comics Curmudgeon store! You can still buy the Fence Post Frank hat (our latest model) and the “More Zippers, Mule!” shirts (timeless classics), but the mugs and other t-shirts have been replaced, and we have some sexy new items for you!

First, the new shirts. Show your solidarity with Milford’s unjustly accused by sporting a “Free Hutch” shirt.

Next, prepare for the inevitable spit-take with this fine mug, a desperate attempt to sex up America’s lamest burg.

And finally, what better way to show that you’ve “been there” than to sport boxers, a camisole, or (no, really) a thong that showcases your roadside status?

Thank you to the many fine posters who came up with the ideas for these. Alas, nothing is available from Cafepress in that hideous electric blue color.

Now, once you’ve bought this stuff (as I’m sure you will immediately) you are of course going take a picture of yourself wearing and/or using it and send it to me, right? Of course you are. I’m especially interested in some pictures from the ladies here — almost all of our current models are menfolk! I know the Future Mrs. C. is hard to top, but we strive for gender balance. (Please, though, no thong photos, or at least no photos of your thong on your … thong … area.)

What’s that address again? Glad you asked. It’s http://www.cafepress.com/joshreads, of course. Now go forth and purchase!

Oh, and I almost forgot to add that when I was making the underwear, I said, “I need to find a slutty font for this.” There’s a sentence you don’t get to say very often.

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For Better Or For Worse, 7/13/05

(Folks, it’s come to my attention that the scheming lawyers over at Mt. Foob are little quick on the trigger when it comes to the cease and desist letters aimed at the Webhosts of those who reproduce the strips without approval. So if you haven’t read the strip yet, click here to open it in a new window.)

Ah, youth! I remember my eighth grade graduation. I think that it involved my grandparents taking me out for ice cream. It certainly did not involve my older sister driving me around while I made out with my girlfriend in the back seat. (Not that this is a “kids today are all roadside” rant. I know for a fact that some of my junior high classmates participated in post-graduation making out. I just wasn’t one of them. I was barely in a position to do post-graduation making out in high school.)

Of course, the guy I feel really sorry for is poor ol’ Duncan. His band goes down in an inferno of clashing tweenage egos, and he doesn’t even have the arms of some 12-year-old gig to fall into for consolation. Instead, he’s just got forty-five minutes of painful, stilted conversation with Elizabeth ahead of him. Maybe he’ll make up some more Canadian jive-talk to describe the depths of the awkwardness. Your life’s in your hands, dude.

Oh, and by the way, you are reading a blog post written by … juror #8! The judge says the case won’t last more than a couple days, though, so I’m not too stressed. I think it would be interesting to blog my jury experiences as they happen, except that that would be totally illegal. Still, I’ll dish what dirt I can, once its over.

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For Better Or For Worse, 7/27/05

(Once again, not gonna piss off Mt. Foob by posting the strip here. No, sir. Read it here.)

So let’s take stock of feminism north of the border, shall we? Remember, a woman can do anything a man can do! Operate heavy machinery or what have you! And if you try to tell ’em otherwise, why, you’re nothing but an boorish jerk with a receding hairline and a misshapen skull and a … a … weird little … thing in the middle of your forehead! Yeah! Jerk!

This only applies, of course, to women who haven’t had kids. Once you’ve had a baby, of course, your job is to stay home and raise ’em. Yup, that’s what’s in your future till they can take care of themselves! What’s that? You say that you’re committed to your career and that your husband is perfectly willing to take over the childcare duties? You think that sounds like an equitable arrangement? Wrong! The gods of narrative will make sure that you come across as an emasculating wench, you … you … francophone!

Meanwhile, let’s see the proof that spider-sense doesn’t make for good financial sense.

Spider-Man, 7/27/05

Yeah, because the last thing I’d want if I had a high-stress job, time-consuming job that paid exactly nothing — like, say, being a superhero — would be for my wife to suddenly become extraordinarily wealthy. I mean, dude, you can climb up walls and what not, and now you’re feeling inadequate because you make less than your woman? I would definitely like to sign up for this sort of marital problem. I’m sure I’ll feel a twinge of discomfort, just before I dive head first into my Scrooge McDuck-style swimming pool of money that I didn’t have to work for.

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OK, let’s start this catching-up post with the events over in the province of Foobonia that have had comics readers across Canada and the U.S. (aka “Baja Manitoba”) so exercised. I actually don’t have much to say on the subject except to reiterate what most have already said, which is FOR GOD’S SAKE EVERYBODY CALL THE GOD DAMNED MOUNTIES OR SOMETHING BECAUSE HOWARD JUST TRIED TO RAPE ELIZABETH AND WE’RE ALL STANDING AROUND MAKING LAME-ASS PLAYS ON WORDS AND LAUGHING BEHIND OUR HANDS. Ahem. I mean really, even an accountant — even a Canadian accountant — can’t possibly think that a little ear-twisting constitutes sweet vigilante justice.

On the other hand, I’ve given up on hoping against the inevitable Liz-Anthony get-together. Of course, in real life, Thérèse would make their future lives a living hell vis-a-vis the adorable little baby whose name I now forget, but the strip has shown her being so unrealistically disinterested in the little bundle of squalling, pooping joy that no doubt she’ll be happy to let Liz adopt her (him?) and turn him (her?) into a Patterson By Proxy. And everyone will be happy ever after. Except, we hope, Howard.

With those weighty subjects out of the way, let’s move on to a little nose-picking from Monday’s Curtis:

Now, I ask you: is this the most graphic depiction of prospecting for nostril gold ever to grace the funny pages? It’s not so much the visual that bothers me, offensive though it is, but the explicit — well, I’m not sure if they’re sound effects or stage directions, exactly, but they’re gross, and the accompanying motion lines don’t help. Though I have to admit that I’ve always liked the Curtis convention of people suddenly sprouting enormous eyes and long, luxurious lashes when they’re being disingenuously cute, as Barry is here.

Mary Worth, 8/12/05, 8/15-16/05

I continue to be utterly horrified by Mary Worth’s treatment of both women’s shelters and alcoholism. I kept waiting for Mary’s illusions of the horror that is downtown to be shattered by the tough-minded but caring women who took in Rita when she had nowhere else to go. Instead, we’re treated to a tearful reunion while a bunch of slightly mussed but reasonably well dressed white women stare and listen to the shelter-bashing in creepy silence. Check out panel two of Friday’s strip — Rita is so desperate to get the hell out of there that she’s pushing Mary out the door, despite the fact that there’s been zero evidence that anything bad happened to her there. Maybe she’s just happy that she won’t have to look at that woman with the huge cyst on her face anymore.

But hey, at least Boilface never took her to the scene of her one of her most humiliating drunken moments and expected everything to be fine. Yeah, Rita, I suggest you go down the “complete abstinence” route — though of course I’ll be having the ketchup-colored Chateau Heinz with everyone else in here. Hope you don’t mind driving home!

I really, really hope that, in tomorrow’s strip, Rita’s answer to our bow-tied waiter’s question is “A double scotch — and make it #$&*#($ing snappy!” And then further hijinks ensue. Mary needs to learn that clever rhymes are no substitute for a treatment program run by certified substance abuse counselors.

Gil Thorp, 8/15/05

If you haven’t been following Gil Thorp’s non-stalking storyline, then I don’t have anywhere near enough time to explain why Sports Illustrated’s Rick Reilly is lurking in the bushes, ballpoint pen and reporter’s notebook in hand, waiting to hear this vicious anti-Pac-10 diatribe. I would just like to say that this development reminds me of the embarrassing amount of time I spent as a youth watching Scooby Doo, whose adventures would often feature guest spots from the sort of big name stars that your typical eight-year-old living in 1982 would be sure to love, such as Phyllis Diller or Tim Conway. I’m sure said stars were happy to spend twenty minutes in the studio recording some lame-ass jokes and then walk off with a nice pile of dirty, dirty Hanna-Barbera cash. Rick Reilly didn’t even have to do voice work, though I’m assuming he also didn’t get paid or have any creative control. And in fact, perhaps the latter is something of an issue. Here’s a look at the real Rick:

Now, the photo reveals that Mr. Reilly has a fairly typical number of smile lines around the eyes for a man his age. His Thorpian doppelgänger, on the other hand, has crow’s feet that are so pronounced that he appears to be wearing KISS make-up. Way to treat your guests, guys!

And speaking of special appearances, “Smitty Smedlap” of Subdivided We Stand has already pointed out that the evil coach is really none other than radio’s own Don Imus, and put together this little graphic to prove it:

Scary, no?

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Panels from Luann, Peanuts, and For Better Or For Worse, 11/17/05

As Brand and Toni share a tender moment, Snoopy exploits his best friend, and April desperately attempts to scrub the horror that is adolescence out of her face (you’ll never get it out, honey, you’ll never get it out), let’s take a moment to appreciate the subtle sound effects of the daily comics. Usually we associate comic noises with the sort of big, violent BIFFS and BAPS that result from the tangling of superhero and supervillain. But here they add texture to the more down-to-earth pursuits of the newspaper’s sequential protagonists. And the RAKES and the WASHES remind you that those everyday words are in fact onomatopoeic.

OK, have you taken your moment? Are you done appreciating? I just wanted to add one more thing before I go…

Mother Goose and Grimm, 11/17/05

Have I mentioned that I’m starting to think that all the comics are about me?

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A cornucopia of comics for your Sunday afternoon and/or Monday return to work! Let’s get one thing out of the way right off: in my rush to cover the burning hatred in the Family Circus on Friday, I neglected to bring this gem from Friday’s Gil Thorp to your attention:

Yeah, that’s what the ladies used to say about me in high school. Except they didn’t use the phrase “lead the league” because I didn’t play any sports. And they didn’t call me “cute” because they didn’t think I was. And they didn’t actually talk about “me” because they were largely unaware of my existence. But other than that.

It should also be noted that Jenny Su apparently leads the league in horrifying noselessness. I think that if I were moving in for a smooch, I’d be distracted by the twin punctures in the smooth flesh of the middle part of her face, where her nose should be.

Still, if she had told me in high school that I led the league in cute, I probably would have gone out with her. It’s a good line.

Now, on to Saturday. Let’s start with the foobs:

For Better Or For Worse, 1/21/06

(Gah, it’s foob images! What about the lawsuits? Well, as near as I can tell, what the For Better Or For Worse folks don’t like is if you “hotlink” to graphics on their server — that is, if you make graphics hosted on their computers appear on your site. Since I’m hosting this myself, it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll see.)

It seems like everyone loves to hate For Better Or For Worse. I’m not one of the haters, but it does drive me up the wall at times. Mike’s mother in law in particular drives me batty, as she doesn’t seem to have been given a single redeeming characteristic to explain why her daughter puts up with her endless stream of crap. Thus, this week has been sort of torturous, though there was a glimmer of light when it was implied that she might be in the process of slipping into dementia, which might result in some deeply gratifying images of Mrs. Sobinski being dragged off in a straightjacket, raving like a lunatic about people banging on the ceiling downstairs. Saturday’s strip is particularly creepy, though, as it implies that Michael and Deanna’s choice to spawn more Pattersons might have set them on a collision course with madness themselves.

Mark Trail, 1/21/06

You know, if had told me earlier this week that Mark Trail was going to further slander the noble hillbilly, I would have said that it would be impossible to do so, but boy, would I have been wrong. On the bright side, this strip finally delivers the climactic fisticuff-heavy payoff that’s been bafflingly absent from the last few adventures. We start off with what may be the first kick in the ‘nads in the history of the comics. (It should be noted that in the strip before this, our skinny redneck threatened to “mess up that pretty face of yours,” thus proving that his grasp on anatomy is almost as tenuous as his understanding of hand-to-hand combat tactics.) Of course, mega-man Mark manages to dispatch the rural ruffian with a single blow and, in move long on dramatic symbolism and low on common sense, proceeds to carry his limp body over to a pen full of lovingly rendered pigs — while surrounded by heavily armed members of said ruffian’s family. Do they even know how to use those guns? Are they antiques left over from the War of Northern Aggression that won’t actually fire? For God’s sake, you dumb rednecks, shoot him already! A bullet in the shin will both teach this short-tempered naturalist a lesson and get you your dog ransom money faster than all this standing around slack-jawed business, trust me.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/21/06

The current Rex Morgan storyline has been so boring and slow moving that I’m not even going to bother to bring you up to speed on it. I’d just like to point out that Rex’s rasta-mon cab driver is frickin’ hilarious. Particularly amusing is his use of the phrase “hang on to your hair.” See, he’s unfamiliar with English idioms because he’s from Jamaica, where they speak … oh, wait.

Meanwhile, the Sunday funnies treated us to not one but two cartoons about dogs going to the bathroom.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 1/22/06

For Better Or For Worse, 1/22/06

The stink lines in the first FBOFW panel are nicely done, as is the look of mingled disgust and shame on Dixie’s face in the next panel. However, it’s Grimm’s precarious situation clinging to the hydrant that really made me laugh aloud. His look of contentment in the next to last panel, followed by his embarrassed admission that he really is going to do what must be done no matter how gross it gets, are real winners.

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Momma, 2/22/06

Ah, Francis, hero to layabouts everywhere. Nothing says “I’ve given up on life” like looking at Internet pornography while your mother is right there in the room. I do like the evocative triptych of middle panels, which helps us grasp the flow of time in the strip’s narrative. “Not porn … not porn … not porn … hello!”

Who do you think would be the heavy hitters on “Lady Prime Ministers Gone Wild?” Here are my top four:

Edith Cresson (Prime Minister of France, 1991-1992)

Tansu Ciller (Prime Minister of Turkey, 1993-1996)

Kim Campbell (Prime Minister of Canada, June-November 1993)

Benazir Bhutto (Prime Minister of Pakistan, 1988-1990, 1993-1996)

Yes, I am a huge dork. I admit that for a minute I believed that the strip actually intended us to believe that Francis was looking at “Lady Prime Ministers Gone Wild.” It was like the time I thought I saw the guy at the video store renting a porno called Specs Appeal and I assumed it was all girls wearing glasses but then it turned out that it was just Pecs Appeal and he was gay.

Speaking of hot, hot parliamentary democracy: Holy socialized medicine, everyone, Paul the Mountie just grabbed Liz’s ass!

OK, so I guess technically he’s holding her up by her ass, but there’s still palm-to-heinie contact. I’m not sure which of today’s comics I expected to see grabass in, but For Better Or For Worse wasn’t it. I guess I should be thankful that it wasn’t Momma.

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Panels from: Apartment 3-G, Rex Morgan, M.D., For Better or for Worse, Mary Worth, Mark Trail, 2/24/06

With apologies to Dusty Springfield:

The look of love
Is in your eyes
The look your smile can’t disguise

The look of love
Is saying so much more
Than just words could ever say

And what my heart has heard
Well it takes my breath away

I can hardly wait to hold you
Feel my arms around you

How long I have waited
Waited just to love you
Now that I have found you

You’ve got the look of love
It’s on your face
A look that time can’t erase
Be mine tonight

Let this be just the start
Of so many nights like this
Let’s take a lover’s vow
And then seal it with a kiss

Now that I have found you
Don’t ever go
Don’t ever go
I love you so

Have a romantic weekend, everyone. I hope it’s going to happen for you.

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Gil Thorp, 2/25/06; Panels from the Phantom, 2/25-6/06; Apartment 3-G, For Better or for Worse, and panel from Mary Worth, 2/26/06

Is this the comics’ first prime number joke outside of Fox Trot?

Are these teasers — the latter acknowledging that no reader can be expected to have a clue as to what’s going on in the Sunday Phantom, the former being just flat-out cold — even better than Spider-Man’ Olivia-Newton John reference last year?

Has Margo, desperate for company now that her boss hates her and her roommates are snubbing her, gone and joined the Happy Hands Club?

Is it true that this bird you cannot chai-yi-ay-yi-ay-yi-aynge?

Psychedelic shock-happy bunny: Awesome, horrifying, or horrifyingly awesome?

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/2/06

So, um, is the last panel some kind of metaphor made concrete? Or … is Susan a, um, midget? Oh my God, she’s a dwarf, isn’t she? We’re going to learn, over eight enlightening but grueling days, that dwarves can be teachers and positive contributors to society, and they don’t deserve ill-fitting sweaters, aren’t we?

That’s what I’m getting from panel four, anyway. It also appears that we’re going to learn that Canadian First nation children love the taste of dwarf flesh. You’d better look scared there, shorty.

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Mary Worth, 3/24/06

So wait, the new Mary Worth storyline is about the sex lives of unattractive middle-aged empty nesters? Oh, hell, no, I am not down for that. You hear me, Mary Worth? You’re on your own if you go down that road.

[Long pause.]

Oh, we both know I don’t mean that.

Also:

Non Sequitur and panels from Fox Trot, 3/24/06

A comic pooping double-score today. Niiice.

Also also: Why do cartoon moms get all gothy before bed? It’s kinda creepin’ me out.

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For Better For Worse, 4/25/06

Mark my words: Thérèse’s having humiliated and cuckolded Anthony is only the beginning. My prediction is that, despite the fact that this evil, baby-hating hussy vowed that the nine months little spawn-of-Anthony spent in her womb would be the sum total of the energy she would expend on it, she’s nevertheless going to take the Mustachioed Milquetoast before a bewigged Canadian judge and demand custody. Why? First, she’s a FBOFW villain, and therefore exists to make the sympathetic characters as sympathetic as possible; and second, there is no need for any other reasons.

Meanwhile, if Liz gives up her exciting, fulfilling life in the north and her romances with Paul the ass-grabbing mountie and Fly-Boy Warren to come home, marry the chump, and start popping out babies, then I for one will be very depressed (though not Anthony-level depressed, don’t worry). Mock her First Nations travelogue life if you must, but she’s the one Patterson that escaped the suffocating middle-class suburban life that has Mike in a death-grip, and nothing about Anthony says to me that he’s worth sacrificing a whit for.

Mary Worth, 4/25/06

The only way Kelly could look any more depressed than she does in panel two would be if she actually had a gun barrel in her mouth. “You sat through the same awful dinner as I did last week, and now you want me to spend more time with that force-feeding loon? And you’re the biddy that people come to for advice in this town?”

Apartment 3-G, 4/25/06

Aaaand thus endeth the Tommie storyline.

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For Better Or For Worse, 4/28/06

One think I respect about this particular installment of FBOFW is its determined adherence to its original vision. Consider: Clearly John’s statement in panel one is meant to be “she goes like a bat out of hell,” and, just as clearly, you can’t say “bat out of hell” in a family paper. But did they give in to The Man? Did they replace that mildly profane phrase with a completely new phrase that worked in context and made sense in and of itself? They did not. “Goes like a bat” it was, which implies that John’s sweet new ride navigates by sonar, eats insects and fruit, and dangles headlights-first from the garage rafters at night. That’s dedication!

Also, John’s emotional adultery with his cars: creepy. Also also, Gordon’s transformation into a doppelgänger of the soon-to-be-indicted Karl Rove: creepier.

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For Better Or For Worse, 5/9/06

YAHHHH! ZOMBIE SEX! THE WALKING DEAD, THEY WILL MAKE LOVE TO ONE ANOTHER! NOOOOOOOOO!

Gil Thorp, 5/9/06

Damn, Coach, you got served! I love the fact that she closes the door just so she can deliver her cutting commentary through it. In fact, I’m loving Mrs. Raptor and her bizarre hair more and more every time she appears. Maybe if we all start writing in letters of appreciation about her, she’ll get her own strip, called Millicent Raptor Will Crush Your Soul.

Curtis, 5/9/06

Gunther … Rose Petal … Curtis … I hate to interrupt this little domestic drama, but your abuse of quotation marks today has attracted the attention of someone. What’s that you say, Finger-Quotin’ Margo?

Let that be a lesson to you!

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For Better Or For Worse, 5/25/06

Now, I’m not one to wish ill on a sweet, innocent young girl, even if said girl is a cartoon character … oh, who am I kidding. Seriously, something pretty bad better have happened to Liz since we last saw her moping, because if she thinks having an important job in an exciting place far away from the stifling omnipresence of her family, as well as two hot guys competing for her affection, constitutes her life falling apart, then I for one will … um … think less of her.

Meanwhile, I’ll bet that Finger Quotin’ Margo has something to say about your use of quotes in your e-mail, April!

Ha, ha, that crazy finger-quotin’ dame! Could you ever get tired of her?

Seriously, I’d like to know. I’d use her every day if I didn’t think it would get boring after a while. I love her that much.

The Phantom, 5/25/06

Meanwhile, in the Phantom, a bunch of guys are getting machine-gunned to death. To which I say: rockin’! But, um, can you actually show people being gunned down by wave after wave of hot lead in the funnies? Those of you who read Scott Adams’ blog may remember that he was forced by his editors to have a cop shooting a donut instead of a pistol so as to keep gunplay out of the comics pages. To, you know, protect the children. And while it seems unlikely to me that lots of children read the Phantom, it seems even less likely that they read Dilbert, so I’m a bit confused.

Finally, some of you have already noted that the Houston Chronicle’s invaluable comics site is down. This appears to be because the site has gone to stripped-down, low-graphics “high traffic” mode because people around the world want to read about how former Enron execs (and local Houston boys) Skilling and Lay are guilty guilty GUILTY. And really, who can blame them? But it means that we comic lovers have to suffer. First they plunge huge swaths of California into darkness and screw over their own employees so that they could have hot-and-cold running Courvoisier in their walled compounds, and now this? When will their reign of evil finally end? Anyway, thanks to the outage, I haven’t read a good chunk of the comics I usually read daily, so if there are any particular gems I missed, I’ll put up a supplemental post.

Update: Well, of course, it came back up five minutes after I put up this post. Anyway, only one really jumped out at me:

Pluggers, 5/25/06

Normally Pluggers is all about kind-heartedness and good feelings, but … check out the look on Mrs. Plugger there. “I’m going to put your tools in the garbage, you over-cholesteroled lump … after you die. Oh, please, God, why won’t he die?”

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Ye cats, while I was busy soaking in the sun and eating large quantities of grilled meat, this weekend’s comics were plugging along providing rich fodder for hilariousness. Let’s jump to them with no further ado!

Judge Parker, 5/27/06

Holy cow, it’s, like, the least subtle foreshadowing in the history of foreshadowing. You know what I think would be great? If this is, in fact, the last we see of April Bower. Not because I have anything against her, I just think it would be great if that smug bastard Sam’s prediction didn’t pan out.

I wonder about Sam’s pose in the last panel. Maybe all this talk of lawyer-on-secretary action, combined with Gloria’s sexy, sexy Judy The Time-Life Operator look, has convinced Sam to “take a dip in the office pool,” if you know what I mean. In panel three, he’s flashing her his expensive watch, as if to say, “This is the sort of bauble that could be yours if you agree to be my on-the-side woman.” By Gloria’s pinched facial expression in panel two, though, it seems that she can’t get past the disgusting thicket of hair on the back of his hands.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/27/06 and 5/29/06

Man, say what you will about FBOFW, but these strips show that it can still deliver. Specifically, it can deliver what I for one have been waiting for, which is Liz getting seriously called on her whiny suburban white girl shit. Take a look at the broad shoulders and quiet dignity of Canada’s Finest there, Lizardbreath: a year and a half from now, when the Spawn of Thérèse is throwing yet another temper tantrum and your mom is there offering unsolicited advice while Anthony is down at Gordo’s Car Emporium yukking it up as he fills his mustache with cinnamon bun crumbs, you’ll be thinking of Mr. Wright as you say “Wait! Did I really miss this? ‘Cause now I’m not sure!”

(Um. That last paragraph revealed both more in-depth knowledge of and more emotional investment in this strip than I frankly was aware that I harbored. Ratchet back, Josh, ratchet back.)

Mark Trail, 5/28/06

Damn, that lady in panel two’s gonna get crabs! Or, um, a crab. Heh. Crabs. I don’t have much to say about this strip, except that it’s one of the better “Mark Trail Teaches You About Nature” installments to come down the pike in quite a while. The sexy-lady-pokes-at-an-enraged-crab-with-a-stick action in the second panel is awesome, of course, as is the notion that crabs walk around weilding sea anemones as weapons. I have no idea if that’s true, but even if it isn’t, it’s one of those things that is so awesome, that if it isn’t true, it should be.

The Phantom, 5/28/06

Meanwhile, the Ghost-Who-Sleeps-Through-His-Wife’s-Kidnapping is, well, sleeping through his wife’s kidnapping. I’m puzzled by Diana’s cry for help in the last panel: I’m reasonably sure how you’d pronounce, say, “KIIIIIIT!!” But “KITTTT!!“? That’s a lot of Ts.

Spider-Man, 5/28/06

The studio may need Marvella, but apparently it doesn’t need Marvella’s costume. Or, specifically, it doesn’t seem to need any of the waist-up part of Marvella’s costume. Yikes!

Family Circus and Crock, 5/29/06

It’s the Battle of the Clumsily Deployed Catchphrases of the Moment! And the surprise winner is the Family Circus. Yes, the joke is lame and will be incomprehensible to anyone reading it 18 months from now, but there’s a certain charming pathos to it: Billy and Dolly glare at Jeffy with angry, piggish faces and jab at him with their fingers, while their little brother, with a tiny bit of control over his environment for once in his life, just closes his eyes, smiles slightly, and enjoys the moment. Crock, on the other hand, is Crock, and therefore sucks.

Slylock Fox, 5/29/06

Do you know why Slick Smitty has that big, self-assured grin on his face? Because he knows that, since he’s a human, a court run by animals has no legal jurisdiction over him. He may be guilty as sin, but he knows that half an hour after the verdict comes down, the court sketch artist will have his neck broken in a snap track and the prosecutor will be turned into a nice muff for his wife. For the sake of justice, we’d all better hope that the judge is a member of an endangered species.

Judge Parker, 5/29/06

And we’re right back where we started … or are we? Yes, today Judge Parker got a new artist — a new artist who has outfitted cult leader Mimi with the cutest paisley vest ever! Randy still looks like a tool, though that’s really unavoidable; at least he doesn’t look like a tool with a face like a monkey. The real test will come when two of the male characters are put in the frame at the same time; will we be able to tell them apart? Still, I for one am happy to offer a provisionally warm welcome to you, “Barreto,” whoever you are.

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For Better Or For Worse, 6/2/06

So after my spittle spewing rant on Liz’s dumbness earlier this week, I’ve stepped back from the brink a bit when it comes to FBOFW. Yes, I think she’s making a choice that’s both hurtful to lots of people in her new home and deeply lame, personal-growth-wise, but you know, people do that sort of thing in real life all the time. What I’m coming to appreciate is the fact that she’s not being sheltered in the narrative from the anger that her decision is causing. It would have been simple to have the Wise Indians of Mtigwaki™ tell Liz that they know her heart is in the south and that you have go where the Great Spirit wants you to go and that one’s family in the most important thing in the whole universe and we all live near our families and so you should too and blah blah blah. Instead, they’re all really pissed at her, as yet another person who’s come to be valuable in their community leaves lets them down and packs up for the Big Smoke. It seems almost impossible that there won’t be some hugging and learning before Liz takes off for good, but it’s nice to see some folks who aren’t two-dimensional villains angry at a Patterson for once.

On the other hand, the pickle jar metaphor troubles me. “If only we could twist off his head and pluck out his emotions! But all we’d really be able to see are guts and gross stuff. Believe me, I tried.” Also, confidential to Ted Forth: Native Canadians ladies are tougher than you. But I suppose that’s not a surprise.

Apartment 3-G, 6/2/06

HOLY CRAP! BEATNIKS! BEATNIKS! BEATNIKS!

Er. Ahem. At least one beatnik, anyway. But you know they travel in packs. This is gonna be so cool. Beatnik! Beatnik in a vest. That’s, like, sick, man.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/3/06

“That’s right, Rex, we’re going to need more tests! Now, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to stick this water bottle up my nose!”

Seriously, though, Rex Morgan and nostrils: what up, yo?

For Better Or For Worse, 6/4/06

That’s it, we want to draw in closer on her face … really bring home her homesickness and torn feelings … let her keep typing and get closer … closer … YEAAGGGH! TOO CLOSE! HORRIFYING MAKE-UP JOB VISIBLE! ABORT! ABORT!

Seriously, I didn’t know that they even had glamor shot studios (or, I guess, “glamour shot studios”) in Mtigwaki.

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For Better Or For Worse, 6/14/06

Oh, c’mon, Jim, forget this “dividing your ashes” stuff: why not just dig up Marian, bring her back to Ontario, get a place with Iris, and then: yowza! Posthumous three-way!

OK, that was in poor taste. But I had to do something to distract myself from Iris’ grim, death-like visage in the final panel. I mean, Jesus, it looks like she’s ready to drag him off to the underworld right now.

Family Circus, 6/14/06

Ignoring the weird jingoism of this panel for the moment, I have to ask: what the hell are these two watching? Is it the Pictures Of Rocks Against A Blank Background With A Little Folded Index Card For A Label Channel? The ticker across the top of the screen would seem to indicate that they’re watching a cable news station of some sort, but surely there’s an attractive white woman missing somewhere that could preempt this crap.

Anyway, Billy, you just wait until Operation Martian Freedom is launched sometime in late 2007. Then you could can buy your space rocks without adding to America’s trading deficit, because we’ll own Mars’ shiny red space ass.

Shoe, 6/14/06

Holy crap, did the crazy roller-skating bird from Shoe just get propositioned? I’m so stunned by this development that I can’t even work up the energy to feel sorry for him because he screwed it up.

Get Fuzzy, 6/14/06

See, this is why we all love Satchel. Because when he wants you to be appear on a game show that he invents, he hand-delivers a formal invitation. In a sealed envelope.

I’m intrigued by Rob’s claim to be a “grown-up.” I’m not convinced, based on the evidence I’ve seen.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 6/14/06

TDIET takes time out from its usual fare — which is to say the insane, petty rantings of octogenarians — to illuminate the deep structural problems in America’s health care system. This is material so politically charged that usually only Rex Morgan dares to handle it, but TDIET discusses the crisis in its own trademark fashion: by ending with “Oh, yeah!”

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Sorry I missed a day yesterday … all that Finger Quotin’ left me exhausted. But there’s a-doings a-transpiring in many a soaper, so we need to cover at least the high points…

Judge Parker, 6/22/06

Oh, snap! If you’re not following Judge Parker, this is Raju, junior-high-age Sophie’s Internet-recruited Indian “personal assistant,” who travelled to America thinking that she was a college student and hoping to woo her into marriage. There was a loathsome installment earlier this week where he weepingly told her that he had thought that she and he might make “little Rajus” together, but I think this strip, where she insults his teeth, is a lot funnier.

Spider-Man, 6/22/06

Yeah, because expressing jealousy towards someone is iron-clad proof that you planned to kill them. Way to use your relative jumping-to-conclusions ability of a spider, there, Parker.

Admittedly, sitting around your mansion watching films of your failed auditions with your creepy manservant is a little strange. A little strange and lot ripped off from Sunset Boulevard.

Mary Worth, 6/22-23/06

Oh, man, Mary’s little golf-cart-drivin’ Jeff fantasy is yesterday’s strip is just too, too delicious. But the narrative tension caused by the arrangement of the panels in today’s strip, combined with the look of grim resignation on Dr. Cory’s face, implies that there’s rough waters ahead for our senior citizen lovers. Is Jeff going to tell Mary that he’s leaving town to be with a seventeen-year-old girl he fell in love with on MySpace? Or is just upset that she demanded he wear that nice paramecium golf shirt she bought him for once? At least they’re not going to be twinsies if he shows up at this party today.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/23/06

God damn, Paul the Mountie will grab anyone’s ass.

I’m mainly posting this just to acknowledge that yes, you aren’t crazy, the strips on the FBOFW site really are blinking at you and yes, it plumbs depths of creepy that I didn’t even know existed before.

Funky Winkerbean, 6/23/06

I don’t want to say that this Funky Winkerbean plotline, in which the hot popular girl repeatedly throws herself at the dorky kid for no real reason, is some sort of wish fulfillment fantasy on the part of the artist, but … OK, actually, I guess I do want to say that. Dorky kid has been pretty freaked out for the duration, so I assume we’re going to learn a Valuable Lesson about high school chicks who go too fast and the nerds they terrify.

Mark Trail, 6/23/06

Man, this Mark Trail plot is turning out to be pretty awesome, and we haven’t even got to the tiger penises yet. I love how Kelly just lies around her pink bedroom in a slip lovingly copied from Liz Taylor’s Butterfield 8 get-up, plotting out loud and giving a look of evil sexiness to no one in particular.

One Big Happy, 6/23/06

It’s not a soap opera, but One Big Happy has been running with the same plot all week, which is sort of unusual. Can I just say I love Earl the vacuum cleaner fetishist a lot? You live that dream, Earl. You live it.

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For Better Or For Worse, 7/2/06

I admit it: In addition to being a judgmental bastard, I’m a capricious bastard. How else can you explain the fact that I found Grandpa Foob’s last sexual fantasy sequence horrifying and distasteful, while I was mildly charmed by this one? Maybe it’s because instead of hoping to be rubbed down by nubile slave girls, he’s imagining relatively innocent pursuits, like dancing at arm’s length, holding hands in the general vicinity of pert young rear ends, or sharing incredibly phallic ice cream cones. Maybe I’m impressed that he’s daring to dream about a blonde-brunette three-way, or at least about driving to one. Maybe it’s because the strip dramatically illustrates the fact that, no matter what our age, we’re always young and virile in our own minds, our chins firm and manly, with only a slight cleft pointing the way to their scrotum-like future.

Meanwhile, in Rex Morgan, M.D., Rex is wearing a kind of gay robe.

Going over my old posts, I’ve noticed a trend with me and Rex Morgan: I get all excited about every new storyline and inevitably have fun with it for the first few weeks; then suddenly the air goes out if it and I lose
interest. The last few weeks in this strip have involved a punk-haired girl killing Harry and taking over the blackmailing biz and … a partial fingerprint … and … something about arthritis … damn, I can’t even work up the energy to write a summary. But I offer Rex in his classy robe here as a reminder of happier times.

(Speaking of robes, what the hell is June wearing? At first I thought she had one of those little trays that hook over your neck, like an old-timey cigarette girl, which she was pretending to be in a desperate and doomed attempt to get Rex’s attention. But I suspect she’s just wearing a robe festooned with the exact same cheesy pattern as the top underneath it. More troubling is the hand at the bottom of the frame, which appears to be protruding from her torso.)

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Pluggers, 7/7/06

OK, now I’m starting to get freaked out. Twice is a coincidence, but three times is pretty damn peculiar.

For Better Or For Worse, 7/7/06

Gosh, Elizabeth, that sounds like quite a lot of things to do! But it’s understandable that you’d be so busy when you’re switching jobs and moving all at once. That can be pretty stressful. At least you have a stable relationship you can rely on for emotional support. Say, what was that first thing you said you had to do again?

Wait, I didn’t quite catch that … where are you getting your car?

Good ol’ Gordo! I wonder whose happy, smiling, perky face you’ll see at the cappuccino bar while Gordon’s looking up the prices for the undercoating?

Been nice knowing you, Paul.

Mary Worth, 7/7/06

Speaking of sad sacks with mustaches, I give you … Aldo Kelrast! Whose last name is, as many Jumble aficionados in the comments pointed out, an anagram for stalker. And whose chest hair is on proud display. This would be acceptable if he was sporting some colorful ethnic garment from the Mediterranean, but a off-red polo shirt? Squaresville.

The Phantom, 7/6-7/06

OK, I had to back up a day to show you the awesome set-up for the Big Purple Dude’s two-panel-long slapathon. He has to psych himself up, thought-balloon-style, in order to not punch someone. These two strips also showcase two of the Ghost Who Slaps’ special powers: his super-scary voice and his awesome stripey ass.

Dennis the Menace, 7/7/06

Then it’d be a Plugger library! Haw haw! OK, that was just mean.

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Mark Trail, 7/10/06

SAY, MARK! IT’S REALLY POLITE OF YOU AND RANGER RICK TO THINK OF US AND SHOUT YOUR DIALOGUE SO WE CAN HEAR IT! I’M ASSUMING THAT’S WHY YOU’RE YELLING WHILE YOU’RE TALKING, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE ONLY INCHES AWAY FROM EACH OTHER UP IN THAT TREE! IT SORT OF MAKES ME FEEL UNGRATEFUL TO POINT OUT THAT THROUGH THE MAGIC OF CARTOONING, WE CAN “HEAR” YOU JUST FINE, EVEN THOUGH OUR PERSPECTIVE IS QUITE FAR AWAY FROM YOU! BUT REALLY, THANKS FOR BEING SO THOUGHTFUL!

OH, AND I THINK THE BEAR IS TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT HE’S GOING TO ENJOY KILLING AND EATING YOU WHEN YOU GET DOWN FROM THAT TREE, AS YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO DO EVENTUALLY! JUST A GUESS, THOUGH!

Those of you enraptured by Mark Trail’s giant talking animals (and who isn’t, really?) will enjoy this drinking game over at the Deadspin sports blog.

For Better Or For Worse, 7/10/06

I think I speak for everyone everywhere when I say that I hope this is (a) karmic retribution for the Pattersons Junior allowing their little squallers to run wild and disturb the peaceful Kelpforths in their quiet cigar-smoking repose and (b) the beginning of Mike’s slow descent into madness. I might point out that Deanna seems to have been able to sleep just fine through the tinkling and the tonkling, but not through her husband’s lunatic overreaction to it, yet miraculously she didn’t punch him in the throat or anything. I might also point out that Mrs. C. has problems of her own in regards to sleeping through fan noise (though for her it’s less TINKLE TONKLE TINKLE TONK and more CLICK CLICK WHIRRR); however, rather than wrapping the fan in scotch tape like some sort of crazy person, she just makes me turn it off.

The Lockhorns, 7/10/06

Sometimes the Lockorns is just so much about unadulterated mutual loathing that it takes my breath away. Look at the way they’re glaring at each other with undisguised contempt. Roast rage is on the menu every night at Casa Lockhorn, along with buttered bile and fried green hate.

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B.C., 7/22/06

See, this strip is actually a lot more clever than it might appear at first glance. By posing a series of incomprehensible humor-style elements — Do electronic components ever actually feature “charcoal” lettering? Wouldn’t black golf balls be easier to see than said lettering on said components? — it distracts from the central problem, which is, you’ve got cavemen talking about golf and electronics, what the hell.

Mark Trail, 7/22/06

I was going to say something to the effect of “The whole Kelly-Welly-as-Lost-Forest’s-official-tramp thing is getting old,” but then I realized that it wasn’t, and it never will. I particularly love the extreme closeup on Kelly’s dark, evil, seductive eyes in the third panel. I’m assuming that this is Ranger Rick’s point-of-view: in the world of Mark Trail, this is the last thing you see before you wake up with a nasty case of chlamydia.

Wizard of Id, 7/22/06

Ah, it’s Yet Another Lame Strip Written By An Old White Guy Featuring An Anachronistic Golf Joke (YALSWBAOWGFAAGJ™). You might not know this if you don’t have parents who watch the Golf Channel voluntarily, but all those beasts the Wiz is thought-ballooning about in the second panel are the nicknames of various professional golfers. That’s right: Id’s dwarfish despot is forcing his chief thaumaturgist to dismember the cream of the PGA’s crop just to shave a few strokes off his handicap, the sick bastard. Anyway, the reason this strip caught my eye is because the thought balloon in panel two has some shading on the bottom, which usually is a cartoon convention for anger, but this time around it appears to signify … nothing. Nothing at all. Wasted strokes. Wasted!

For Better Or For Worse, 7/22/06

Worst. Onomatopoeia. Ever.

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The good people at InstantSignsOnline.com will let you design your own custom license plate. Faithful reader rata2e received the following gift from her daughter, also a faithful reader:

Isn’t that nice? I love it when families come together to mock the comics.

(By the way, if your tastes run less towards novelty license plates and more towards, say, novelty intimate wear, you can get more “Roadside”-themed items at the Comics Curmudgeon store. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with making your own stuff, but I’m just sayin’ that that’s one place you can get it.)

Also, on the subject of obsessive comics blogs, someone who I believe to be faithful reader and sometime poster Pelagius (correct me if I’m wrong) has started a new obsessive comics blog: What’s so funny? Not golf. It’s dedicated to the numerous unfunny golf jokes that golf-mad comics writers force upon us. Good luck to you, blogger!

Also also, TDIET fans owe it to themselves to check out this hilarious and very, very filthy spoof from Tom McHenry.

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Garfield and For Better Or For Worse, 7/28/06

I know I haven’t really said anything about it, but Garfield has had a real actual storyline going on for, like, two weeks or something now, and there are non-Garfield/Jon/Odie characters, and backgrounds other than the featureless void of Jon’s house, and dynamic tension and Jon even kisses a girl! The reason I haven’t said anything about this is that despite what appears to be some sort of real effort to inject some energy into the strip, it’s still excruciatingly lame and not funny. There, I said it. Sorry, Paws, Inc., toilers, but my reaction to this plotline has been a sort of tepid “Huh, that’s weird,” for about three seconds each day, promptly forgotten until the next day’s strip persists with the weirdness.

Meanwhile, much as so many of us love to hate For Better Or For Worse, it still undeniably drives passions. I have to admit rather shamefully that I’ve been totally involved in this week’s horrifying Liz-Anthony meet-cute at the car dealership, and I said a little cheer at Lizardbreath’s thought balloon which I hope — oh dear God of Canada PLEASE — means that she’s afraid of leading him on because she doesn’t want to break his heart again. Let him down easy now, Liz! For his good! For your good! FOR OUR GOOD!

Apartment 3-G, 7/28/06

“Hello! I’m Eric Mills. You know, I’m not the most attractive man in the world, I’m not really much of a dresser, and, let’s be honest, I frankly don’t have a personality that makes up for either of those factors. And yet I get more action than Don Juan and Casanova put together. I bet you’re wondering how I do it! Well, to find out all my secrets, you’ll need to subscribe to my once-a-month series of cassette tapes, Eric Mills Tells You How To Succeed With The Ladies. But let me give you an example of one of my sure-fire techniques now. Let’s say you’re at a party. What you do is, you find a halfway good-looking girl at the bar, and you check out how much she drinks. Does she drink a lot? Is she by herself? You’re in like flynn! The next thing you do is invite her out for lunch — an early lunch, if you can swing it — and get her good and drunk on whatever second-rate hard liquor she seems to like. I’ll tell you, gents, boozy floozies love it when you can remember their drug of choice; if you have to choose between keeping track of their mother’s name or whether they prefer Smirnoff or Absolut, go with the vodka. Anyway, by the end of the lunch, she’ll be way too drunk to go back to work, and as a gentleman you’ll have to walk her back to her apartment, and so … well, if you can’t take it from there, you need more help than I can give you!

“Oh, one more thing. Did I ever mention I’m a hat man? I love me a drunk girl in a hat. Yowza!”

Marvin, 7/28/06

So is this supposed to mean that Ming Ming has taken such a profoundly satisfying dump that she briefly transcended her individual consciousness and glimpsed a higher plane of reality? Or just that she’s pushed a certain amount of excrement “out” of her “body”? Either way, Marvin makes us long for last week, when it was just being racist.

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Wow! I go away for a few days to spend a little quality time with my mom and now I’ve sat down to do some bloggy stuff and found that you guys have made … some comments. A lot of comments. An extra large number of very funny comments.

I bow down to your comics obsessiveness. I was going to skip over the days I flaked out on, but now I see that you all deserve better than that. Thus, today I offer you quick takes on the weekend’s strips just past.

Judge Parker, 8/11/06

As has been widely noted, the new Judge Parker artist, after a very strong start, seemed to suddenly come to the totally understandable conclusion of “Holy crap, this is Judge Parker, why the hell am I putting any work into it?”, and the quality of the lettering and, to a lesser extent, art suddenly declined. It’s still an improvement over the previous artist, who made everyone look vaguely like one another and not-so-vaguely like monkeys. He also deserves kudos for making Horace look at least quasi-human. For your reference, here’s old-artist Horace:

Yeesh.

By the way, if the phrase “more than just a business relationship” doesn’t make your gaydar ping just a little, then you and I have very different agendas in reading Judge Parker, my friend. It adds a particularly twisted twist to Horace’s desperate attempt to get randy young Randy married off to somebody — anybody — before enduring the public scrutiny of an election.

Mark Trail, 8/11/06

Like any true Mark Trail aficionado, I find this strip totally unrealistic. Everyone knows that Kelly Welly wouldn’t beat around the bush, but would just say “bear penis.”

For Better Or For Worse, 8/12/06

You know, I think this strip is really sweet. I mean, in this go-go, youth-focused world, it’s nice to see a depiction of the sort of gentle, loving, but still very deep intimacy that builds up over the decades of an essentially decent marri… oh, who am I kidding. PLEASE GOD DON’T MAKE ME THINK ABOUT ELLIE AND JOHN DOING IT NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Gil Thorp, 8/12/06

You know, for a strip as manic as Gil Thorp, the wordless final panel here is almost shocking. It really brings home the sad and quiet desperation behind a character who’s usually full of bluster. It almost makes you feel sorr… oh, who am I kidding. WEEP, MOON, WEEP! YOU’RE SCREWED! SOON YOU’LL BE IN THE POORHOUSE! MOO HA HA HA HA HA!

Apartment 3-G, 8/14/06

You know what’s important to creating a storyline about underlying sexual tension? Having it involve at least one character who we might believe to have some sort of inner sexual persona. I’m not sure how either of these sad sacks would react to some sort of potential romantic relationship, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be sexy. Tommie’s look of panic and confusion in the final panel seems about right.

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Dick Tracy, 8/14/06

So Lottie, in addition to not being dead, has changed from weird suit and tie drag to a weird 1970s suit jacket/turtleneck drag look that matches Al Kinda/Zombie Reagan’s. But this strip tells us something else: I’ve already established that I don’t know much about guns, but I know enough to know that if you can shoot a man in the heart with a handgun from, like, a quarter-mile away, you are a bad ass. Who cares about her nefarious past and gender eccentricities? Clearly we need her on our side. Don’t ask, don’t tell, detective Tracy.

Mark Trail, 8/14/06

Just when I thought the current Mark Trail storyline couldn’t get any better, that devil Elrod adds this crazy dude and his tame bear into the mix. Of course, we’re going to end up with some nail-biting adventures in which Mark and his friends need to rescue Molly from the poachers, but for the next eight hours or so, please let me hold onto the dream that tomorrow’s strip will involve Molly mauling Rusty while Doc and the porn-star named “Buck Jones” make small talk.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/14/06

Now, let’s be clear here: this strip exists to give April her stinky comeuppance, and I sincerely appreciate it on that level. However, I question whether her iPod (or non-branded “tunes”) is the culprit here. After all, the problem is with her vision and coordination, not her hearing. At least she didn’t have to hear whoever is hiding in the floorboards shouting “trip” as she falls.

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Mary Worth, 8/18/06

The scariest thing about this strip is that, in panel two, Mary’s eyes actually do sort of seem to be saying … well, if not “Yes,” then at least “Maybe.” As in, “Maybe I should give this guy a chance. Jeff’s away, and I never really promised him anything … and Aldo really does seem like he’d be quite the devoted type … not always running off to crazy Oriental countries on barely a day’s notice … and it has been a while since I’ve had a good mustache ride…”

Uh. I’m stopping this rumination right here, in the name of all that is decent. Let us never speak of this again.

Mark Trail, 8/18/06

Well, this is certainly a disturbing surprise. I have to say that if you had asked me two weeks ago, “What Mark Trail character will cause a truck to fly off a cliff because she was trying to put her tongue in someone else’s mouth?” I would have had to have said Kelly. After the car wreck, I’m sure Molly will stare mournfully at the mortally wounded Buck for a few minutes before she starts eating him.

B.C., 8/18/06

No, you’ve got it backwards: Wal-Mart will be leveling this vista in order to build four new Wal-Marts.

Dick Tracy, 8/18/06

Blasted Al Kinda! He’s already violated the laws of the United States and human decency; now, even in death, he’s managed to violate the laws of physics. Seriously, I’d love for someone to explain to me how he ended up under that flag.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/18/06

Everyone who thinks that April is going to be experiencing “nature’s most amazing miracle” the hard way before she turns 18, raise your hand.

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Pluggers, 8/28/06

I have nothing particularly hateful to say about today’s Pluggers, which is a good thing, because “Jason Rhea” of “Littleton, CO” is none other than Comics Curmudgeon faithful reader and occasional commentor Racing Js! So, congrats, Jason, on being the first Curmdgeoner Cardinal (but not, we hope the last) to get your home-spun wisdom enacted by freakish beast-persons.

Meanwhile, the comics’ other great reader-entry feature is proving itself to be a tougher nut to crack.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/28/06

Could this be the most cold-hearted TDIET yet? Allow me to paraphrase: “When he was healthy and in the prime of his life, Grandpa Croaker enjoyed his body’s youthful strength, and thought nothing of walking from place to place. But now that the ravages of age have broken down his joints and sucked the energy from his soul — howzat? — he’d prefer not to walk if he doesn’t have to.” The name “Croaker” is just piling on, letting us know that his inability to walk to the corner is a herald of his swiftly impending death. Oh yeah!

Gil Thorp, 8/28/06

Last summer, square-headed superteen Von Hanley managed to defeat a stalker with just a bunch of flashlights and his quick wits; this year, he, Marty, and Mandy, presumably after repeated viewing of The Sting, are apparently conspiring together to grift the grifter, and prove that two wrongs really do make a right. Since golf isn’t Von’s forte, and our three wannabe hustlers probably have about 130 IQ points between them, I have to assume that once Mandy arrives, she and Marty are just going to hold Ben Franklin down while Von administers a savage beatdown with his $4 Salvation Army putter.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/28/06

God damn, is Liz going to have all of her problems solved by women leaving their husbands?

By the way, Liz is way, way too excited about the opportunity to teach little suburban children. Yeah, it’s her life dream and blah blah blah, but you can’t tell me that any job short of, oh, I don’t know, the Governor General’s Official Fluffy Kitten Petter And Delicious Chocolate Eater would generate the kind of deranged enthusiasm portrayed here. No, her over-the-top reaction to a mere interview (which magically morphs into a job offer the moment she hangs up the phone), combined with her freakishly dilated pupils, the slovenly nature of her hovel, and her inability to focus on one thing long enough to pour her mac and cheese out of the pot and into a bowl can indicate only one thing about Liz: she’s all methed up. I for one look forward to the heartbreaking lessons about drug abuse that we’re about to learn.

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For Better Or For Worse, 8/30/06

Never has the flabby make-it-up-as-you-go-along nature of the Foobian plot been on display as nakedly as it is here. I mean: How far away is Liz’s apartment from her parents’ house that she would considering moving back there to shave a little off her commute? And she’s been back down south for, what, three months now? Don’t they have leases in Canada, or are Pattersons just allowed to break them with impunity? And doesn’t Ellie have any say over whether her totally adult and self-sufficient daughter decides to up and move back in, or is she just going to go on with the passive “It’ll happen if it happens” attitude? These are questions that I want answered. In return, I’ll answer April’s question about why Liz wouldn’t want to move back home: it’s because she’s, like, 26, and living at home when you’re 26 and have a job is for looooooosers.

Dennis the Menace, 8/30/06

Speaking of losers, Dennis is continuing his trend of eschewing menacing, preferring instead to hone his floral-themed dinner-table bon mots. It actually took me about 45 seconds to grasp the “bud”-“blossom” wordplay going on here, and I finally only got the joke because of the presence of the rose on the dinner table, which I assume was intentional. Note to cartoonists: If you need to put in a visual aid to forward the cause of a pun in your comic, your pun needs work.

Slylock Fox, 8/30/06

Apparently it’s terrified prey week in Slylock Fox. As if the terrified beaver wasn’t traumatizing enough, check out the discarded ribcage, presumably of one of his family members, next to the crocodile on dry land. Today’s scene of the savagery of nature provides a backdrop for a true/false quiz. “True or False: Sometimes things that are cute and basically good die in agony for so that something more powerful and vicious can survive. (Answer: So very true!)”

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Apartment 3-G, 9/3/06

Ted: I could use some decorating tips.

Tommie: I’m afraid that’s not my strong suit.

Ted: Never mind, because that’s NOT ACTUALLY WHY I’M INVITING YOU UP TO MY APARTMENT. Jesus, you’re dense. How about dinner? Will dinner work? Great. See you at seven. Don’t wear underwear.

Ted at least can pull off his smooth talk without resorting to scare quotes, unlike some people would-be lotharios we could mention…

Mary Worth, 9/3/06

Note that “talk” and its variant “conversation” only appears in pervert-quotes when Aldo uses it. Mary is too forthright to resort to that kind of euphemism. Still, since nobody ever discusses this subject with Mary, we need somebody to just tell it like he means it:

Of course, we all are desperate to know just what it is that Aldo is looking at in the last panel, but sadly we won’t find out until at least Tuesday, since Monday will inevitably be a recap of today, and because Monday is a holiday, Tuesday may need to be a recap of Monday. My guess: a phalanx of cops, or the exhumed corpse of his wife. I’m enjoying the look on Mary’s face in that final panel; she’s thinking, “Oh, Aldo, I didn’t want it to come to this, but, well, you started things: I’m just finishing them.”

For Better Or For Worse, 9/3/06

“You kids are right into the ‘pop culture’?” Christ, even by Canadian standards you couldn’t possibly say anything dorkier than that without collapsing into some sort of black hole of dweebishness. The quote marks are just icing on the cake. No, there’s only one word that can properly describe Dr. P.:

Of course, 4Evah and Eva’s bassist is wearing a turquoise tank top, so maybe they aren’t exactly arbiters of cool themselves.

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For Better Or For Worse, 9/5/06

I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of time to discuss at great length Liz’s sanctimoniousness (faithful commentor fillmoreeast memorably referred to her as the “White Guilt Fairy”). For now, I’d just to point out that she’s awfully smug for someone who appears to have fallen under the spell of technology-assisted learning pretty much instantly. “All right kids, I’m going ask you a single question, which won’t require any kind of creative or analytical thinking on your part, before I turn on the TV. Now watch this damn tape about … I dunno … the environment or some crap. And watch it quietly. Just because I have my head down on my desk doesn’t mean I can’t hear you.”

By the way, Liz, Canada’s longest river is the Mackenzie, which for its entire length flows through … the Northwest Territories. Thus, it crosses no provinces at all. I learned this the old-fashioned way: on the Internet.

Judge Parker, 9/5/06

Oh my God, Raju, don’t wait for the clothes — you’re clearly irresistible to somebody. Look at the way she’s staring soulfully into your eyes! Kiss her, you fool, before the moment’s gone!

I’ve always been too distracted by the fright-wig craziness going on at the top of Abbey’s head to really notice the long, luxurious locks cascading down the back. She may be the wealthiest woman in America sporting a Manic Panic she-mullet.

Mark Trail, 9/5/06

Honestly, we’ve learned this already, But Molly the bear really needs to learn to express affection in some way other than french kissing. Here, she runs afoul of the moose-kangaroo hybrids that have escaped their secret government breeding compounds and are ranging free in Lost Forest.

Marmaduke, 9/5/06

There is entirely too much ass in today’s Marmaduke.

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Mary Worth, 9/12/06

Oh, Mary, Mary, Mary — it looks like you’ve figured out that the only way to drag this storyline out further is to, um, drag it out further. It becomes obvious that she’s going off-script when she fails to join into the barbershop quartet number that the Charterstone Mafia had planned for the triumphal climax of the intervention.

For Better Or For Worse, 9/12/06

You know, if Liz has to worry about her bosses at the public school board being mad at her because she needs to take time off to obey a subpoena and testify in court against the guy who tried to rape her, then Canada may not be the workers’ paradise that I had imagined it to be.

You know what I hate more than the idea that Liz and Anthony are going to fall into each others’ arms over the course of this rape trial? The fact that we’re treated to “Anthony-Cam” in panel four, seeing just how sexily tarted up Lizardbreath looks to her wimpy paramour. Ick.

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B.C., 9/13/06

I can no longer get worked up about the fact that B.C. makes jokes about semi-obscure aspects of golf culture as if everyone’s going to get it, or the fact that said jokes aren’t funny even for those who know what the strip’s referring to. However, I do have to object to this strip being based around not just a lame-ass joke, but the totally incorrect genre of lame-ass joke. The fact that whatshisname and, uh, the other one are standing around the “Show Me” rock means that this ought to be an example of the strip’s patented non-hilarious “Show Me” joke, where the cavedude on the left starts a sentence with “Show me” and the cavedude on the right comes up with a pithy and supposedly witty response. (Actual non-hilarious example from 1990 that I found online: “Show me a girl who curls up with a good novel every night…” “…and I’ll show you a broad who lives in a bookmobile.”) This strip may provide evidence for one of my darker suspicions: that Johnny Hart has dozens of predrawn “Show Me” strips (and, presumably, “You Know” strips and “Wiley’s Dictionary” strips) just waiting for the dialogue to be filled in, and today he was so worked up about rude golf spectators that he just sort of forgot that he was supposed to do a “Show Me” joke.

The saddest part is that this bit could actually have been done as a legitimate “Show Me” strip: “Show me a golf tournament where they shout ‘You the man!’…” “…and I’ll show you a golf tournament that sells tickets to morons, too.” It does some violence to the joke and isn’t very funny, but hey, this is B.C.

Mark Trail, 9/13/06

Boy, when this Mark Trail storyline got started, it seemed like it was going to be about poaching. Three months ago, who could have predicted that it would climax with an angry mob led by a sinister chicken-kicking beekeeper attempting to kill a lovable, confused tame bear who almost killed her owner by french-kissing him while he was driving? How do they come up with these twists and turns for the plot? I bet it helps to be totally insane.

For Better Or For Worse, 9/13/06

Yesterday we learned that when Anthony thinks sexy thoughts about Liz, Liz looks sexy. Today we learn that when Liz thinks sexy thoughts about Anthony, Liz looks sexy. Presumably this imbalance exists because it’s not possible for Anthony to look sexy.

Pluggers, 9/13/06

You’re a plugger when your prescriptions cost more than your groceries, but every time anyone tries to discuss some kind of socialized medicine program, you start ranting about “God damn liberal commie Hillary-care.”

Apartment 3-G, 9/13/06

And that was the day that Tommie decided for sure that she liked girls better.

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For Better Or For Worse, 9/16/06

You know, usually, when a woman pours her heart out to her big brother about her relationship worries, the appropriate response is to say something vague but reassuring, not, “Well, you know what they say: infidelity in this situation is essentially inevitable!” The final panel of the typical FBOFW includes some sort of play on words, but since Michael gets that out of the way with his devastating commentary, instead, our parting shot here is Lizardbreath looking at him with barely contained rage as he wanders smugly off. Michael Patterson: worst comics brother since Momma’s Francis.

Incidentally, what the hell is Liz wearing? Is she making up for her frumpy work clothes by changing into some kind of leopard-print leotard as soon as she gets home? And I like the way Deanna and Robin sort of aimlessly wander through the strip, just as a reminder that “hey, we still exist! And little Robin hasn’t succumbed to his mysterious illness! Yet! Stay tuned!”

For more excellent foobish hate, check out faithful reader yellojkt’s latest blog post, “The End Of The Foobiverse.

Spider-Man, 9/16/06

Hey, what the hell is this? Some kind of … evil individual … intent of committing crimes … a villain, one might say … except he has powers and abilities beyond those of ordinary humans … super powers, one might say … and he’s intent on fighting Spider-Man? This sort of storyline has no place in this feature! Isn’t there some drama to be wrung from, say, the mutual funds in the Parkers’ 401k plan not performing as well as they’d like?

I like the fact that one of Dr. Octopus’ wayward tentacles is holding what appears to be a cool, refreshing beverage of some kind. Hey, his powers aren’t used for evil all the time, OK?

Apartment 3-G, 9/16/06

You had your chance and you blew it, Ted. Your third-panel leer is both too late and counterproductive.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/16/06

You know, I’ve been following this strip again for more than a year, and I still haven’t caught up with all of its characters. I’m reasonably sure that this is the first time I’ve met Linda, the wife of the high school football coach. I was going to make some crack about the fact that her weird facial expression in the second panel makes her look like she’s suffered some sort of crippling stroke, but then I realized that this is Funky Winkerbean, and she probably has.

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Apartment 3-G, 9/23/06

Ah, Eric Mills, engaging in a little art discussion with Lu Ann! Say, is something looking a little … different about this art impresario and Hat Man since last we saw him?

I know, I know, it’s the coloring mules’ fault, but I prefer one of the following explanations instead:

• Eric Mills realized that he’s got to stay “young” and “hip” if he wants to get involved in the New York avant-garde art scene. Signing Lu Ann and her faux-Victorian fern drawings is a good start, but if he wants anyone in the art world to take him seriously, he’s got to dye his hair blonde. Unfortunately, he’s too cheap to go to a salon and tried to do it with nobody’s help but Miss Clairol, which resulted in that sort of orangey color that really dark hair gets when its been inexpertly dyed.
• Eric Mills is a chameleon shapeshifter. His hair changes color to match the tresses of whatever young lady he’s trying to bed. Today’s strip indicates that Lu Ann and Margo’s fight over him is pointless, as he’s really after Tommie.
• Eric Mills has “mood hair.”

Anyway, Margo is sure not winning any points with her ludicrously petulant behavior. What with her pouting, her bossiness, her demands for attention, and her lack of the sort of social skills that most of us learn in kindergarten — well, she’d better hope that Eric Mills is into four-year-olds. Wait, that came out wrong.

Mary Worth, 9/23-4/06

Now … now see here, people. Aldo is not dead, OK? He … he can’t be dead. I’m sure he’s just … terribly injured. Terribly, terribly, passive-aggressively injured. When the jaws of life pulled his shattered body out of his smashed, smoldering car, I’m sure the first words out of his mouth were “Mary … Worth,” which is why the cops called her. His second words were “Where’s … my … booze?”

Saturday’s strip also offered a revealing look at the home life of Professor and Mrs. Chinbeard. Grading papers, snotty putdowns, bumper sticker quotes, endless hair brushing to avoid getting into bed with that smug bastard … it all goes a long way towards explaining Toby’s emotionally deadened look in Sunday’s final panel.

For Better Or For Worse, 9/24/06

This made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

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For Better Or For Worse, 9/29/06

Boy, the icy specter of death sure shut those kids up quick, didn’t it. I think Michael and Deanna need to keep this in mind for the future. “Be quiet, Meredith! Your Grandpa Ted just had a massive heart attack!” “I DON’T HAVE A GWAMPA TED!” “Yes you do, and you love him very much. Now get in bed, dammit.”

A lot of people have asked me for my opinion on the impending death of Grandpa Jim. I’m just glad that it stopped being a source of punny punchlines after the first day or two.

Gil Thorp, 9/29/06

Gil Thorp is well known of its radical leftist views, so I think it’s pretty clear that this latest plot development is part of a larger political allegory. See, student body VP Marcus Newton is a stand-in for US VP Dick Cheney. Just as Newton was responsible for blowing up an innocent mailbox, Dick Cheney is responsible for engineering the invasion of Iraq. And Newton’s swift deposition for his crimes represents the strip’s author’s fantasies that Cheney will be impeached for his own misdeeds and removed from office. And Stormy Hicks is a stand-in for … um … the football-playing drag queen that will replace Cheney. OK, that last part needs work.

Gil Thorp is also well known for its ludicrous hairstyles, but the combination bun-bob on the guidance counselor here is really pushing the envelope. Is it even physically possible?

Blondie, 9/29/06

Welcome to the panopticon, Dagwood! This strip might have actually been funny if everyone at this … whatever it is … hadn’t been theatrically holding their hands to their ears. Then we would just be seeing that Dagwood had been reduced to a quivering, paranoid wreck by his evil ogre of a boss. But this is Blondie, so “funny” isn’t really on the agenda.

Judge Parker, 9/29/06

I look forward to the next week or so of Judge Parker, which will no doubt involve finding a beard on short notice.

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For Better Or For Worse, 10/9/06

Well! The witnesses need to stay in town, you say? That sure is inconvenient for any of the witnesses that might have out-of-town boyfriends that they’re trying to build a relationship with! And plenty convenient for total losers who have nowhere else to go but might be able to wear down the objects of their affection with their constant mewly, schlumpy presence! Yes, it appears that every aspect of Liz’s near-rape ordeal has been calculated to ease Anthony’s wooing process. Years from now, they had better have a good child therapist on retainer for the moment when their kids finally ask the inevitable “So how did you guys finally get together” question.

Note also that Anthony is staring at Liz’s ass in the first panel.

I’d say that we’re at least going to get an introduction to Canada’s fascinating, British-derived legal system out of all this, but surely the only law this strip will be obeying is the Law of Narrative Convenience. For starters, who exactly is this bald fellow our power couple is talking to? Ontario’s official Junior Minister for Exposition?

B.C., 10/9/06

Things this deranged B.C. might possibly mean:

1. Columbus’ actions upon his “discovery” of Hispaniola began a legacy of enslavement and genocide that forever tainted the European colonial enterprise in the Americas.
2. What we need are more leaders like Columbus, who don’t let considerations of “political correctness” prevent them from getting done what needs to be done.
3. Them colored folk sure are good at the ball games.
4. MADNESS MADNESS MADNESS

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/9/06

“Elvis.” Huh. I … I don’t think any of us were expecting that. Well played, Rex Morgan, well played.

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For Better Or For Worse, 10/11/06

Is there anything grosser than Anthony harkening back to one of his and Liz’s furtive almost-certainly-didn’t-get-to-second-base teenage make-out sessions as Liz describes what it felt like being overwhelmed by the flood of memories of her near-rape? Well, maybe it’s the fact that just before said flood of memories arrive, we get that patented icky FBOFW close-up, where an ostensibly pretty girl looks like she’s been daubed with layers of makeup in preparation for a mall-studio glamor photo. Anyway, to summarize: Ew.

Dennis the Menace, 10/11/06

The first thing that entered my mind upon reading this strip, as I’m sure was true for all of you as well, was the immortal quatrain that concluded Ice Cube’s 1993 classic, “It Was A Good Day”:

Drunk as hell but no throwin up
Half way home and my pager still blowin up
Today I didn’t even have to use my A.K.
I got to say it was a good day

Ah, Dennis, so many opportunities for adventure your beeper opens up to you! All of which involve drugs. Because pretty much everyone other than drug dealers has gone in for cell phones now. Cell phones, Dennis the Menace scribes. Take a note. They’re like these little phones that you can take around with you wherever you go. Been pretty omnipresent since the late ’90s or so. No, no need to thank me.

As Dennis continues to be less and less menacing, his constant companion and foil has been consistently portrayed as even feebler in order to leave the impression that Dennis still has something of an edge. Has poor Joey ever looked readier for the short bus than he does here today?

Mark Trail, 10/11/06

People say that Jack Elrod can’t draw people very well. I say that never has the majestic American mullet been portrayed with the attention to detail and depth of feeling on display here.

I’m deeply intrigued by the suspense built up by the nonspecificity of “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Yeah, let’s do it!” Here’s my idea for the missing fourth panel: Molly is wearing an adorable bonnet and drinking tea out of a tiny cup, sitting at an itty-bitty table with a bunch of stuffed animals, all of whom also have teacups in front of them. Orange Shirt and Mullet Head stand nearby, taking pictures for their novelty Web site and squealing in girlish delight.

Mary Worth, 10/11/06

Sometimes in a strip you see the gears begin to shift and new directions begin to open up, and you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to go down the new trails that are about to be forged. So if you’re wondering if I’ll still love Mary Worth if it becomes less about Mary meddling in the lives of others and more about Ian saying wildly inappropriate things sotto voce in delicate situations, the answer is: Yes. Yes I will.

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For Better Or For Worse, 10/13/06

As the Liz-Anthony storyline grinds on to its terrifying and seemingly inevitable conclusion, all of North America can only look on in horror.

I was physically unable to bring myself to comment on yesterday’s foobery, in which Liz, who up until fairly recently had an exciting and adventurous life, declared herself “unaccomplished” compared to Anthony because he had a child and owned property. While clearly parenthood and ownership of a bland suburban box is the height of human achievement in Foobonia, the sad truth is that the house was no doubt purchased largely with the money from Thérèse’s unspecified-but-implied-to-be-high-powered job, and as for the baby, well, if you’re married, for most people it actually takes more planning and effort to not have a baby than it does to have one. I suppose it’s an “accomplishment” that Anthony convinced his wife to have sex with him despite their obvious mutual dislike. Of course, now Thérèse has left both home and baby behind because she’s a totally unrealistic straw-woman character designed to make us feel sorry for Anthony totally evil, nonmaternal, career-focused bitch, leaving Liz an opportunity to get closer to her dream guy, who likes to hang out in his basement office with his caged toddler.

All this aside, though, this morning I had a brainstorm about why the Liz-Anthony pairing is so perfect. See, motherhood is a necessary component to a woman’s life, unless she decides she’d rather not be a parent is a totally evil, nonmaternal, career-focused bitch like Thérèse. If Liz weds Anthony, she’ll get to experience the soul-completing joy of being a mommy without having to have icky sex.

Apartment 3-G, 10/13/06

OK, so this wacky Lu Ann adventure, with the lights turning on and off and the odd instant falling asleep and the sepia-toned dream sequences … it’s really … weird, right? It’s not just me? It’s OK that I’m creeped out by the command in the last panel here? Who’s going to keep her safe, dammit? Who?

Six Chix, 10/13/06

You’re one to talk about addictive behavior, lady. You’re the one who appears to be sitting at a bar in the middle of your house.

Family Circus, 10/13/06

Actually, Jeffy, that’s how we know that Dolly’s sick. Very, very sick.

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Gil Thorp, 10/16/06

You might have noticed that i haven’t really been paying attention to Gil Thorp lately. That’s because it stopped being about homoerotic love channeled through chainsaw work and more about Sean Pettibone, everybody’s least favorite goody-goody. You may remember Sean from last season, when he scored the winning touchdown in the final game of the season but then negated his team’s victory by admitting unprompted that he had stepped out of bounds on the play; later, he broke cultural barriers by dating one of Milford’s token African-American students and alternately amused and horrified her parents with his well-meaning cracker antics. This year he’s voluntarily dropped out the student body vice-presidential race in order to placate student strife, and today he has single handedly pulled this unconscious fellow from flaming disaster and appears to be supplying the “breath of life” through his left nipple. Presumably soon he will come up with a plan to rescue Social Security, bring peace to the Middle East, and lead the Mudlarks to victory in the football playdowns. Everyone will still hate him.

The question remains: who or what is responsible for reducing this once-mighty light utility vehicle to a pile of flaming wreckage? Maybe these two punks have graduated from cherry bombs to roadside IEDs. “Mail call, SUV-boy!”

Apartment 3-G, 10/16/06

Aw man, see, this is why you gotta have a roommate like Margo. She tells it like it is! And by “tells it like it is,” I mean “puts the spin on things most likely to negate whatever positive emotions you might be experiencing at any given moment.” And by “gotta have a roommate like,” I mean “must change the locks while she’s out.”

For Better Or For Worse, 10/16/06

As noted, it’s been a while since Phil’s appeared in the strip, but I really don’t remember him being so, um, mustachtic. No wonder his own father doesn’t recognize him. Jim probably thinks he’s the dude from the Pringles can. “Did you bring the sour cream and onion kind? I love those!”

Six Chix, 10/16/06

I’m pretty sure that this is about monkey sex somehow, and I’m pretty sure that I don’t approve.

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Spider-Man, 10/25/06

In a total violation of everything this strip stands for, Spider-Man has forced its dozens of readers to endure nineteen grueling days of exciting superhero-vs.-supervillain hand-to-hand combat. Fortunately, a good portion of this period was taken up by J. Jonah Jameson’s failed attempt to remove a camera lens cap. Today, at last, our long national nightmare is over, and we can get back to the feature’s bread and butter: toothless media satire, lame LA spoofery, and zany, vaguely homoerotic reaction shots from ol’ Flattop Hitler.

For Better Or For Worse, 10/25/06

Meanwhile, the Foobs return to the least harrowing of their ongoing storylines, as 4Evah and Eva try to simultaneously make their mark in the unforgiving novelty single market and demonstrate their total commitment to expunging the d sound from the end of and in Canadian English by the year 2020. While I commend Gerald’s passion, I question his marketing savvy, as he seems to believe that a 21st century Halloween song needs to be approached with the sort of deadly earnestness normally associated with Norwegian death metal, when clearly some kind of ironic distance is in order. Still, he doesn’t really deserve the tongue-lashing he gets in panel four. I can’t decide whether Eva is such a mega-diva that she can’t conceive of not speaking into her microphone so as to be heard by her many fans, or if she’s just trying to blow Gerald’s eardrums out completely so he’ll flee to an audiologist and leave the rest of them alone.

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They’ll Do It Every Time, 10/28/06

TDIET exists to give whiny, petulant voice to the sort-of-but-not-really voiceless, and thus I always assume that whatever character is best expressing that classic look of quizzical put-upon-ness is meant to stand in for whoever sent the idea in to Mr. Scaduto in the first place. Today’s episode is an elaborate fantasy in which helpful teenagers are constantly thwarted in their attempts to pull their weight in the household; thus, we can only assume that “A. White” is the helpful baseball-cap flipping, vest-wearing cool cat. The idea that a teenager might be a regular TDIET reader is truly horrifying, however. Please, please tell me that, like David Tarafa, A. White is a plucky young Curmudgeon reader. PLease?

Another possibility is that A. White is actually the silent but clearly horror-stricken mother in this scenario. She’s too terrified to stand up to her obviously rage-filled hubby on her kid’s behalf in person, so she’s hoping that his favorite cartoon feature in the Boston Herald will show him the error of his control-freakish ways.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith and Mark Trail, 10/28/06

“Yeah, Andy, we’ve got to find Molly! And by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you.’ Go find our friend! I’ll be here with the gun … you know, if you need me … or whatever.” This strip just further illustrates that there isn’t a single featherless biped in Mark Trail who’s worth a damn. I hope that after Andy and Molly take care of the brothers -ake, they turn on Mark and his friends, and then rule over Lost Forest like the King and Queen of the Beasts that they are.

I offer this Snuffy Smith for comparison, to illustrate how Mark Trail is hopefully going to play out in a few days. That “Grr!!” coming out of the bear is meant to be menacing, but comes out just sort of cute and Molly-like.

The Phantom, 10/28/06

The Ghost Who Walks Very Uncomfortably In His Tight, Tight Pants is offering a lovely ass shot in the first panel (this one’s for you, bootsybrooks!), but I’m more looking forward to next week’s thrilling factory tour! “And in here is the break room … you can see we just got a new refrigerator … now down here is the factor floor, and here’s the conveyor belt … an interesting thing about this model is that it was first designed to accommodate a five-foot-wide belt, but they’ve been able to expand it to accommodate our shipping containers, which have had to get bigger because of changing packaging regulations…”

Judge Parker, 10/28/06

God damn it, is this strip going to be about not making assumptions about people based on first appearances, and about how people who seem very different might have a lot in common, and could even become good friends? Because that’s going to blow.

For Better Or For Worse, 10/28/06

Oh, 4Evah and Eva’s public humiliation is going to be delicious.

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Family Circus, 10/30/06

There’s always some sort of twisted psychodrama going on this ostensibly innocent little feature. Today, I’m wondering why Jeffy looks so damn depressed about Billy’s unfunny little joke. Some possibilities as to what might be running around his misshapen head:

• “Mommy’s wrong and preacher’s right! There really are such things as witches, and evil and the devil are real!”
• “Uh oh, Billy’s on to my initiation into the dark arts. I need to cast some sort of hex on him to keep him out of my business.”
• “‘Baby witches?’ This is my big brother who I’m supposed to look up to? Jesus, I don’t know if he’s this stupid or if he thinks that I am.”
• “Uh oh, I pooped my pants again.”

For Better Or For Worse, 10/30/06

OK, let’s for a moment assume that the crowd is going to go wild for the Hose-O-Phonium (which of course it wouldn’t in any rational world, but we are way past any rational world, baby). And let’s assume, against all evidence, that Uncle Phil really is the cool professional jazz-ish musician we’re told he is. And let’s assume that the endeavor on display here — the attempt of 4Evah and Eva to upstage the professional and talented (but still, of course, whorish and evil) RebaccaH — is a noble one. So, basically, Apes and her little friends are bringing in an adult professional to humiliate a thirteen-year-old. Nice. Shannon is so embarrassed by the whole thing that she’s attempting to escape through some kind of trapdoor in the floor, which is the only explanation I can come up with for why she comes up to about April’s navel in panel two.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/30/06

Ah, Mrs. Dr. Morgan, always trying to bring a little positive energy and dignity to a thankless world. Because who cares if the people in line behind her have to wait even longer than she did, she’s determined to make friendly chit-chat with this underpaid bureaucrat. It’s a bad idea, though: check out the seam down the side of the teller’s face in panel two. That’s no human clerk, it’s a pitiless android, and when it says “the clock keeps ticking,” it’s in deadly earnest: if June uses up her allotted time and the transaction isn’t complete, the DMV-bot will vaporize her with lasers from its eyes. So let’s get a move on, lady.

Luann, 10/30/06

So does it still count as an infuriating rehash if you get all post-modern and have one of the characters note that it’s an infuriating rehash? Yes, yes it does. Tune in next week when Luann has an awkward phone conversation with Aaron, and Bernice stands behind her with an enormous sign that says “NOTE: THIS STRIP IS ‘PHONING IT IN.'”

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Mary Worth, 11/1/06

I’m sorry, it’s going to take more than Tommy waving around the world’s smallest bible to convince me that he’s decided to give up the exciting, glamorous world of methamphetamine addiction. I’d be a little more credulous if he weren’t holding the Good Book in his fingertips at arm’s length. He’s clearly using it as a prop to get dear old Mom to open her home to him once again upon his release, and is concerned that Jesus will see into his black heart and His written Word will burn the skin right off of his evil, evil hands. Since most bibles tend to be referred to as “holy” on their front cover (good marketing, that), I’m guessing this is a crude, handmade pamphlet that’s actually full of bootleg pornography.

The fact that Tommy’s eyes are the size of dinner plates makes it all the harder for me to believe that Christ is his anti-drug.

Some commentors have been remarking snarkily on Tommy’s hairstyle and what it might say about his position in the prison social hierarchy. I’d just like to point out to you newbies that Tommy has always rocked the scrunchie hardcore.

Bonus question: What the hell does that sign that’s partially blocked by Iris’ head in panel two say? “Cur”? “Fur”?

For Better Or For Worse, 11/1/06

I’m assuming that what’s happened here is that Shannon has proved that she’s plenty smart enough to disconnect the soundsystem, and that we’re going to learn some valuable lessons about how you should be nice to those less fortunate than you, and that industrial sabotage is totally OK if your bosses are jerks. But I’d like to believe that what the Lead Rectangular String Instrument player means is not that the power is out on their amps, but that due to Rebecca’s total bitchiness, they’ve, like, magically lost their sound, man, their groove, their mojo, that special something that’s made them Canada’s favorite teenage pop act. Then Rebecca will have to go on a magical journey to get her sound back, where she’ll find out the true meaning of music and friendship.

Check out the huge pile of bottled water cases in panel two. Makes you wonder what else is in Becky’s rider in terms of backstage goodies. (Insert your own “rider” joke here.)

Judge Parker, 11/1/06

You know, Judge Parker, I love homoerotic subtexts in serial comics more than just about anything, but I also like those subtexts to be at least thinly veiled. This isn’t even sporting for me.

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Funky Winkerbean and For Better Or For Worse, 11/4/06

So which do you prefer:

• Teen drama that makes you want to vomit? Or…
• Teen drama that actually involves vomiting?

Discuss.

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Apartment 3-G, 11/8/06

Panel two of today’s Apartment 3-G is a thrill for Margo lovers everywhere (which, I think it goes without saying, is ALL OF YOU, if you know what’s good for you). She’s moving in for the kill, and looks like she’s either going to ravage Eric Mills’ hapless assistant with red-hot Margo-style smooches or bite off her face. The girl’s facial expression, which is one of terror mingled with excitement, matches this dramatic ambiguity.

Margo’s near-victim bears a striking resemblance to Alan’s barely legal paramour from that infamous party. Did anyone leave that event not tangled up in this boring blue-suited billionaire’s life one way or another?

Margo’s lonely “Oh.” in panel three demonstrates a great use of word balloon punctuation and white space.

For Better Or For Worse, 11/8/06

I imagine a crisis meeting over at Foob Central: “Dammit, people, we’re getting murdered by Funky Winkerbean in the depressing realism department! We need to bring out the big guns!” How else to explain this harrowing plot twist, in which Grandpa Jim’s fully functioning mind is trapped in a shattered shell of a body, unable to communicate and prevent his unbearable and continuous humiliation? I’m going to imagine him remembering the morse code he learned in his days in the Royal Canadian Air Force, desperately tapping out “KILL ME” on his portable tray with a spoon, hoping that Iris will stop smothering him emotionally and start smothering him with a pillow, while Metallica’s “One” blares on the soundtrack.

FW is really going to have to raise its game here. Wally’s gonna have to accidentally blow up a busload of Iraqi orphans and puppies, then shoot himself, if they want to keep up.

Curtis, 11/8/06

I’d like to ignore the usual tomfoolery with Derrick and “Onion” (something that’s all too easy to do) and focus on Curtis’ alarming laughing fit in panel three. I wonder if the word balloon had been predrawn to accommodate some much longer bit of exposition, and the iterative, punctuationless laughter was stuck in there in a fit of horror vacui, or if we are really meant to understand that Curtis mechanically repeated the word “Ha” 25 times.

In a move that further undermines this pair’s fearsome reputation, “Onion” (or maybe it’s Derrick, I don’t know) appears to be taking fashion tips from Dennis the Menace’s Joey.

Mark Trail, 11/8/06

By having Ranger Rick utter the phrase “hold up,” Mark Trail has now successfully deployed more street lingo than Curtis has in its entire run. No, really, take a look at the Curtis strip above. The part where Curtis says, “Oh, I’ll be!”

Spider-Man, 11/8/06

“Or didja ever see Hitler having dinner with a Romulan?” Jesus, this strip is weird.

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For Better Or For Worse, 11/13/06

OK, so maybe this final panel doesn’t mean what we all think it means. Maybe it’s been punctuated wrong. Maybe Elizabeth means, “You’ve changed so much? I don’t believe it. I think you’re the same whiny, passive-aggressive, schlubby, boring, dull, soul-crushingly dull, boring, boring, boring, dull, annoying, whiny…”

Oh, who the hell am I fooling. TRUE LOVE CANNOT BE STOPPED.

Mary Worth, 11/13/06

Aw, see, Mary? She’s just as scared of you as you are of her! It’s like it is with bears! And speaking of bears…

Mark Trail, 11/13/06

Huh, some of that dialogue seems awful familiar … almost as if I’d heard it before somewhere else. But where could that have been?

Mark Trail, 11/11/06

God damn it, Mark Trail, don’t you move slowly enough without, you know, just repeating the same damn dialogue over two strips? At least Jake and Snake have swapped lines in what’s suddenly become some kind of low-rent, heavily armed Waiting for Godot. The giant rabbit has fled, presumably out of boredom.

I do have to admit that if I were in the process of being kidnapped by mulleted cabin-dwelling bearnappers, I would be profoundly uncomfortable to learn that my fate would be determined “back at the cave.”

Slylock Fox, 11/13/06

I’m not resentful that I spent five minutes staring at Slick Smitty’s coat, trying to figure out if the fact that he was wearing a suit and had rolled up his sleeves was a clue about the origin of his latest flight; nor do I begrudge the fact that the crucial clue to this puzzle is Smitty’s watch, which is completely illegible. Rather, I take umbrage on behalf of our broad-tailed, buck-toothed friend. Why is he just “the beaver”? Why doesn’t he get a patented Slylock Fox clever name, like “Bobby Beaver” or “Buford Beaver” or maybe even “Castor?” Instead it’s just “the beaver,” like they’re all alike, like their individuality doesn’t matter. This strip is racist.

Family Circus, 11/13/06

Translation: “When I grow up, I’m going to move as far away from the rest of you losers as the science of the age will allow.”

Marvin, 11/13/06

Wow, Marvin sure isn’t afraid to disparage Italians. Good thing none of them live in Indiana, right? Right? What? Uh oh.

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As a popular blog, I get literally hundreds and hundreds of spam comments posted a day. Fortunately, the vast majority of them are caught by Spam Karma, an excellent blogspam filter. If I really want to, I can log into Spam Karma to see just who’s been trying to post ads for penis enlargement and usurious mortgages to my Web site. Imagine my surprise at the name at the top of the list yesterday:

“Bird feeders,” eh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

Also, here’s a funny cartoon in which valiant souls try to fix the Foobs. Good luck with that, guys.

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I’ll bet you’ve never really thought of “Mark Trail” and “fan art” being used in the same sentence. Well, that’s all about to change. Faithful reader Em Stone sent me some Mark Trail fan art, featuring everybody’s favorite UNPREDICTABLE nature photographer, Kelly Welly:

Click here for a closer look. I love the way that Em created a sexed-up version of those pink polo shirts that get Mark hot. Also, the gratuitous beaver shot is quite charming.

For more of Em’s awesome art, check out her deviantART site or her portfolio site.

Speaking of awesome, faithful reader Jeff Roberts offers his take on what happens in For Better Or For Worse after the laughter fades on his site, The Last Panel.

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For Better Or For Worse, 11/28/06

No, you see Ellie, in the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the strong, handsome, interesting police, who investigate crime; and the witnesses, who mumble testimony through their cinnamon-bun-crumb-laden mustaches and try to avoid mentioning their total contempt for the niceties of fair trials in a common law jurisdiction. This one’s already out of Paul’s hands, I’m afraid.

Seriously, though, this is the worst thing ever. I hate all of you, die, die, die, die.

Apartment 3-G, 11/28/06

Hey, man, who’s that crazy cat with the sideburns and the granny glasses? Is it another one of Alan’s beatnik art friends? Crazy kick, man! Outta site!

Garfield, 11/28/06

Forced to finally confront the concept of human sexuality, Jon Arbuckle has apparently suffered a massive stroke. One can only hope that Garfield will be as skilled a caretaker as Iris is for Jim Patterson, but he’s more likely to lose interest and eventually just eat his hapless patient.

Mark Trail, 11/28/06

What … but … I … just … buh …

[A few more moments of incoherent sputtering ensues.]

NOW LOOK HERE! Just because we all were like, “Oooh, Molly, we love Molly, Molly’s so cute, oh no, what will happen to Molly?” doesn’t mean our appetite for adorable animals in trouble is limitless. We recognize blatant emotional manipulation when we see it, and the Adorable Adolescent Beaver Who Isn’t Quite Ready To Leave The Lodge is just such manipulation wrapped up in smooth brown fur with a big flat tail at one end.

Oh, who am I kidding. Oh my God, what if Molly and the beaver meet and have adorable adventures in the woods together. SO CUTE!!!!

What sort of little boy wears his vintage 1940s Boy Scout uniform, complete with cravat, to dinner? A sad and maladjusted little boy, that’s what kind. Rusty should get together with that other comics misfit, little Sarah Morgan. Except that, what with June off screaming at tweakers and Rex off doing … well, whatever it is he’s doing, probably cruising for anonymous gay sex in the city parks, nobody really seems to be much paying attention to her, and she’s probably starved to death by now.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/28/06

You might think that this is the most horrifying thing you can imagine, but my wife’s been to a baby shower where people microwaved candy bars in diapers so they looked exactly like you’d think melted candy bars in a diaper would look and then passed them around and everyone had to guess what kind of candy bar was in each. So frankly I think the concept of a stripper dressed (for the moment) as Santa Claus giving a lap dance to an extremely pregnant one-armed woman sounds quite charming in comparison. At least all these blatantly randy women aren’t dressed as sexy elves. Let’s cling to that shred of dignity.

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Slylock Fox, 12/12/06

I’m going to admit it right here in front of the whole world: I like Slylock Fox. I can’t really handle the brain teasers, which I don’t have the attention span for and which I think are kind of rigged anyway, but I enjoy the wealth of detail in the artwork: there’s clearly a lot of thought that goes into it. Today, for instance, we get a little wordless vignette of jealousy and betrayal. I’m sure our older, exotic Mediterranean waitress has been over-smiled at by many a teen boy, but that doesn’t make our all-American girlfriend feel any better. Also, the restaurant appears to be lousy with cats, in violation of the city health code.

Luann, 12/12/06

Just in time for Christmas, it’s … A Very Puddles Christmas! Featuring Puddles, the tiny, sleepy, non-trick-doing dog! And Emily the mail lady, his best friend! (See, dogs and US Post Office employees can get along!) Join us as Puddles takes a magical journey to see Santa! He’ll learn a lot about himself and the real meaning of Christmas, and about just how important family is! Also, there will be urination jokes!

Seriously, what the hell is this. Talking dog? Talking, bipedal dog? This is very much not what Luann is about. Can’t we get back to the Brad house renov … er, I mean the Brand-Toni-Di … er, no wait, I mean Luann and Aaro … no, how about Luann and Gunth … um, maybe Bernice and Zan … oh, whatever, bring on the elves.

Mary Worth, 12/12/06

You know, Ella, I wouldn’t throw around the “w” word if I were you, as I’m betting the condo association has some pretty strict rules about the dark arts. I’d hate to see the next Chaterstone Pool Party feature you getting burned at the stake.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/12/06

HAW HAW! Now here’s some political commentary we can all get behind! Those politicians! They think one thing and say another! It seems as if their chief goal is getting re-elected! Sometimes they are corrupt and unethical! You tell ’em, Grandpa Jim!

Is it just me, or is peppering an aphasic with questions about his aphasia as he sits there in frustrated silence some kind of cruel joke? “Say, Mr. Patterson, that’s a nice watch. Do you mind if I take it? If you mind, just say something … now. OK, guess I’ll be taking it, then!”

Apartment 3-G, 12/12/06

Another excellent diagnosis, Nurse Thompson! I’m assuming by “feverish,” you mean “coked to the gills.”

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For Better Or For Worse, 12/19/06

Betting on what this smoke portends shall now commence! Here are your odds:

• The apartment building is on fire: 2 to 1.
• The fire was started by one of Mr. Kelpforth’s aromatic cigars: 4 to 3.
• Mike’s horrible novel only exists in that paper manuscript and on that laptop: 3 to 2.
• Mike must choose between saving his horrible novel and one of his horrible children: 3 to 1.
• Mike realizes that he has two kids but only one novel: 5 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping child to safety: 2 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Deanna to safety: 3 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Lovey to safety: 4 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Kelpforth or two to safety: 10 to 1.
• Even after burning down the house and being saved by Mike, the Kelpforths are still insufferable: 4 to 1.
• Lovey plotzes: 3 to 1.
• Deanna’s awful mother attempts to force them to move in with her: 5 to 1.
• Mike and Deanna actually end up back at chez Patterson while their digs are being reconstructed/they search for a new home/indefinitely: 3 to 1.
• Friction among the siblings occurs, but the true meaning of Christmas is learned by all: Even.
• Liz sees Mike and Deanna’s strained, child-ruined, sexless marriage and realizes that Anthony is The One: 7 to 6.
• Mike’s manuscript is thought to be lost, but is eventually recovered miraculously on Christmas day: 3 to 1.
• Mike’s slightly charred manuscript is snapped up by Canada’s biggest publisher and becomes an instant best-seller and critical darling: 2 to 1.
• Mike and Deanna continue to live with his parents anyway: 5 to 1.
• The house isn’t on fire at all; the smoke is from the massive bong hits Deanna needs to keep from murdering her husband and children: 100 to 1 (but it would be awesome.)

Slylock Fox, 12/19/06

Wow, Slylock Fox’s “six differences” is exceptionally grim this week. I wonder if earlier versions featured a cat instead of a fish, or perhaps a baby, and had to be ratcheted back a little bit so as to not traumatize all the youngsters who read this feature. Still, Mr. Jones’ look of total devastation belies the notion that this is just some cartoon fish that we don’t have to care about: it was clearly his only friend, which may explain why he’s been in denial about its deaths for the weeks it would take to skeletonize.

My favorite difference between the two panels is the rabbit’s facial expression in the background: at left, it just stares forward with numb incomprehension, while at right it gives a sidelong glance to the viewer, establishing a rapport in which both cartoon bunny and comic reader share a moment of awful comprehension of their own mortality.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/19/06

Now I know why June keeps up this loveless sham of a marriage with Rex: he’s such a colossal prick that she actually seems to be capable of a shred of empathy by comparison.

Mark Trail, 12/19/06

Yes, the beavers are excited about being with each other. I could not make this stuff up if I tried.

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Dick Tracy, 1/6/07

Now, the number of you who have followed the current storyline in Dick Tracy in as much detail as I have can probably be counted on one hand. This is because this storyline, like Dick Tracy in general, is kind of bad. But I have to admit that I found this strip, in which things are brought more or less to a triumphant conclusion, to have a kind of quiet charm. From Dick’s dialogue which, while not quite poetic, at least has a certain pleasing alliterative rhythm to it (“made our minds his prisoners”, “now we’ve neutered his neurons”) to the sad, defeated look on Dr. Froid’s face, to the tiny little QWINK his sinister device makes as it’s powered down for good, the whole thing has a certain dignity that pretty much everything that’s happened up to this point has lacked.

For Better Or For Worse, 1/6/07

Speaking of lacking in dignity, I haven’t commented on FBOFW this week, mostly because I’ve grown so disgruntled with the plot direction that I don’t even know how to feel about Elizabeth’s inevitable discovery of Paul’s philandering. On the one hand, it provides an easy way for Elizabeth to be driven into the dull, reassuring arms of The Mustache, without any even slight lowering of her status as the strip’s incomprehensibly elevated Noble Goddess. On the other hand, a Patterson will experience emotional pain and anguish. So there’s that.

One thing I know exactly how to feel about is the strip’s patented and increasingly phoned-in punny punchlines: Bad. Bad is how I feel about them. “I’m going to say my boyfriend’s last name for no reason other than to supply a pun for my little sister’s ensuing thought balloon!” Bad.

Judge Parker, 1/6/07

Many faithful readers with a better grasp of geography and typical travel schedules than Judge Parker have pointed out that transatlantic flights simply do not land in Europe at 1:30 in the morning, ever. Still, based on her creepy white eyes in panel three, it’s no mystery why Neddy wants to go to the Champs-Elysées before sunup: to feast on the blood of the living.

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Due to stupid real-world time pressures, I probably won’t be able to post today’s comics until late tonight or maybe even tomorrow, but I felt that this article in the Toronto Star needed to be brought to the attention of those who don’t read the comments post haste. (Thanks to faithful reader Big Stu for the link!) Long story short, it’s yet another feature about the future of FBOFW, with yet another version of what’s going to happen to the strip after this fall. That keeps changing because, as Johnston says in the story, she hasn’t really figured out exactly what she’s going to do yet.

But! The important thing is that the article contains a poll asking readers to which of Lizardbreath’s suitors she should pledge her troth. It’s on the right-hand side of the page, about halfway down the story. Against all logic and decency, The Mustache is currently in the lead with 40 percent; Paul has 33 percent and Warren 25 percent. Clearly the addition of Warren was an attempt to dilute the anti-Anthony hate, but I think all of you know what needs to be done about this poll. Go forth and cast your votes!

Apropos of nothing, but since I’ve got your attention, Gil Thorp fans and haters alike owe it to themselves to check out This Week In Milford. There’s a dramatic movie trailer built completely out of GT panels that is particularly amusing.

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For Better Or For Worse, 1/11/07

Here it is! The moment we’ve been waiting for since June! The moment when cheatin’ Paul is caught red-handed, Liz is emotionally devastated, worlds are shattered, great loves die, new ones begin! At last, it’s here! And it’s … it’s …

Kind of dull, actually.

Bunch of people standing around in the cold. Fully clothed. Nicely drawn exhalation vapor clouds, I’ll give them that. Some awkward glances. Car in the driveway. And … such.

Plenty of exposition, though. Yes, sir.

God damn, this is boring. I hate you, foobs. Every time I lower my expectations to meet what I think’s coming, you go even lower.

Apartment 3-G, 1/11/07

Hey, but you know who never fails to meet my expectations? Margo Magee, that’s who. Whether she’s throwing aside her last shred of dignity to win the heart of a rich older man, or insulting her roommates with zingers just obscure enough to make them wonder if they’re actually being insulted, she always comes through in the clutch.

I have to imagine that Margo is the master tenant in Apartment 3-G. Otherwise, I have no idea why her collection of overpriced designer turtleneck sweaters and her ass haven’t been dumped on the curb by an aggrieved Lu Ann and Tommie years ago.

Family Circus, 1/11/07

Several commentors have attempted to parse the dialogue here in relation to the phrase “cookie sandwich,” and how it applies to the relationship between Dagwood and his daughter, Cookie. It’s all very clever and naughty, but I think it misses the larger point, which is that Billy is making a lunch that consists entirely of Oreos and Wonder Bread. Clearly Mom has finally snapped and run off with the mailman, and Daddy’s passed out drunk (again), leaving the kids unsupervised and Billy in charge. The look on Jeffy’s face shows that he’s sort of dubious about this situation. Sure, cookie sandwiches are all well and good in the short term, but eventually they’ll run out of Oreos and/or Wonder Bread and who’s gonna buy more, huh?

The Lockhorns, 1/11/07

I think this is the first ever Lockhorns panel in which the feature’s patented brand of ennui-deadened hate is aimed by one half of the title couple at someone other than the other half of the title couple. Though you wouldn’t know it from their emotionally numb faces, this is a serious psychological breakthrough.

Leroy and Loretta have been locked in a vicious, evenly matched death struggle for decades, so if their negative energies were suddenly turned outwards, they’d leave a trail of dead and maimed in their wake. So look out, TSA goons! Your chastisement at the hands of Slylock Fox was just the beginning!

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Folks, we’re all going to have a lot of Foobish anger to work out this weekend. I hereby provide this post as a discussion thread for you to do it on. To start things off, faithful reader Wille Thompson offers the following discussion points for Paul’s future romantic prospects.

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Slylock Fox, 1/15/07

This has to count as one of the most frankly sexual newspaper comics I’ve ever seen. I neither expect nor at any level want to see red-hot mouse-on-mouse action in Slylock Fox, but in a medium that tippy-toes around the love life of three healthy single women in Manhattan and goes to excruciatingly unrealistic lengths to protect Elizabeth Patterson’s virtue, the matter-of-fact presentation of Max “visiting” Melody in the middle of the night — and of the two of them obviously being woken up by Slylock’s frenzied late-night call — is kind of shocking.

This sidekick business is clearly no cakewalk; clearly, Max must be forced to carry a beeper around with him, or to give his vulpine boss the phone number of all his lady friends’ houses. Either that, or he’s only cultivated his relationship with Melody because he knows she lives across the street from a fence. As soon as the stolen goods are recovered, Max is moving on, leaving a tiny broken heart in his wake.

For Better Or For Worse, 1/15/07

In my policy of trying to find the bright side of everything, I’m really enjoying Liz’s verbal humiliation at the hands of her Mtigwakian supposed friends. As I’ve noted earlier, the Noble Natives of the North may have been intended as a heavy-handed bit of ethnography, but they have ended up being the only people in Foobonia allowed to frankly call Liz on her crap. Not that I endorse the overarching “stick with your own kind” message here, but wrapping up “Girl, she stole your man! Snap!” in some kind of mystical “spirit journey” hokum is pretty hilarious to me.

I think we all know that Liz doesn’t have to worry about guidance. Her journey is like a cruise missile, zeroing in on The Mustache at an unstoppable rate.

Antifoobitarianism is spreading to the Webocmic world, by the way. Check out these recent offerings from Crap I Drew On My Lunch Break and Shortpacked!

Dick Tracy, 1/15/07

Boy, Dick Tracy is getting soft. Dick actually looks kind of concerned that he may have accidentally destroyed a man’s mind while engaging in pointless plot-stalling exposition. It takes mustachioed industrialist Diet Smith to supply the appropriate level of callousness. “Now, Tracy, this man is my employee, and when he signed his contract, he waived his right to sue or press charges over accidental brain erasure. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the empty shell of his body is disposed of with some degree of dignity.”

The phrase “he spilled his thought beans” makes me uncomfortable on a number of levels.

Mary Worth, 12/15/07

Not only is Mary Worth honest-to-God going to Vietnam, but she’s managed to go from decision to airborne in less than a week. Meanwhile, she’s still having disturbing dreams. I’m guessing that “Hanoi … Peace Village” has something to do with this, but it’d be so much cooler if it were actually the site of the Communist mind-control lab where Mary was brainwashed forty years ago. It’d play out like The Manchurian Candidate, with Mary playing the part of both Frank Sinatra and Angela Lansbury.

At first I was jealous that Mary was flying in some kind of magical airplane with wide, comfortable seats and several inches of elbow room between neighbors, but then I realized where that extra space came from: there doesn’t appear to be any aisle. Presumably once the plane reaches Vietnamese airspace, the bottom of the plane will open up and the passengers will be dropped onto their destination.

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Cathy, 1/27/07

Dilbert, 1/27/07

Kudzu, 1/26/07

Some comics get trapped by success. They build a big audience with a new message – professional women are insecure, cubicle life is tough, Southerners are people too. But their audiences develop expectations the authors are afraid to disappoint. So they stop taking chances. Creatively, the comics stop growing and die, often at the peak of their popularity. But they don’t go away. They keep going and going and going and merciful Heaven why don’t they stop stop just freakin’ STOP YOU HEAR ME CATHY I’M TALKIN’ TO YOU!

Ahem.

Everybody admires giants who walk away at the height of their game: Gary Larson, Bill Watterson – have there been any others?

But credit two authors trying to revive franchises that died long ago:

Garfield, 1/27/07

When he gives Jon Arbuckle a life, Jim Davis pushes Garfield out of the frame. And that could cost him a lot of desk calendars, Mylar® balloons, and suction-cup car toys. I don’t like Garfield, but I’m not the one keeping Davis in lasagna. So: bold move, pal. Way to go.

Mary Worth, 1/27/07

I owe Karen Moy a debt. I have followed Mary Worth since the freaking Kennedy administration without seeing a centimeter of character development. Now, in just six months, Mary is the center of the story, out of Charterstone, and showing the faint beginnings of self-awareness – even self-doubt. Baby steps, maybe – but steps. Thank you, Karen Moy!

OK, blah, blah, blah. Where am I going with this?

For Better or Worse, 1/27/07

Trapped between a huge, dim, slavishly-devoted audience and a self-satisfied, ham-handed Stalinist author, this strip is creatively as dead as they come. Yet it will run on and on as a Frankenstein’s monster stitched up from Mike’s mewling brats and zombies from the Good Old Days, glued up with glop from that “novel.”

But suppose somebody wanted to make it good — and without losing the current audience. Could they do that? How?

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For Better Or For Worse, 2/7/07

Who among us — particularly, who among those of us who have had the misfortune to read his loathsome monthly letters — hasn’t wanted to say “*#@[star][Saturn]!!” to Michael Patterson? At last Grandpa Jim, who certainly didn’t leave his farm to stoically fight the Nazis just so his whiny ingrate of grandson could make mad bank with a book about an innocent Irish girl and the stoic Canadian who left his farm to fight the Nazis who abused her, says what everyone else is feeling. My only concern is that the final thought balloon undermines the joy at seeing the eldest Patterspawn obscenely insulted, that maybe Jim thought he was saying “Good for you, m’boy! I always knew you’d make it!” instead of “*#@[star][Saturn]!!”. However, I choose to believe that he’s wondering about the construction of the book because he’s hoping, once next fall comes around and his strength has returned, that he can beat Michael to death with it. *#@[star][Saturn]!! you, Michael.

Hi and Lois, 2/7/07

“Because once the two of them die of pneumonia, I’m another step closer to 100 percent of the inheritance. Then all I have to do is rig Chip’s guitar to electrocute him, and … MOO HA HA!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/7/07

Rex Morgan, M.D., is trying to worm its way back into my affections with the whole “June throws herself at a thirteen-year-old boy” gambit again; I have to admit that it’s kind of working. I’m interested to see what strategy she uses to distract Niki from his simmering class resentment. “No, it’s not really so big … uh-oh, I just splashed water all over my white t-shirt!” You don’t want to know what the carrot is for.

Mark Trail, 2/7/07

Wait, Mark Trail was in the army? Maybe his obsessive love of nature is some kind of attempt to make up for the massive Agent Orange deforestation program he ran back in ‘Nam. He does seem to have received extensive training in righteous-fist-to-face combat.

I am a little unnerved by Mark’s shit-eating grin in panel two. It’s too easy to assume that Mark and Dan were all not asking and not telling when they were in the service, and anyway, it’s well known that Mark finds sex with anyone to be abhorrent. I’m guessing Dan was Mark’s connection to sweet, sweet heroin. The reason Mark so angrily beats up drug dealers on his turf nowadays is that none of them offer product as satisfying as the horse he got back when he was in the army, and Mark demands high-quality goods, dammit.

Pluggers, 2/7/07

When it comes to food science, gerontology, and/or chemistry, pluggers are terribly misinformed.

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Gil Thorp, 2/12/07

Sometimes, you just need to go with your strengths. Since everyone in Gil Thorp already looks like the shuffling, grey-skinned undead, it’s perfectly logical that they start bleeding profusely from the head while looking vaguely uneasy. Panel one reminds of me of the horrifying scene in the second Star Trek movie when that eel thing crawled out of Chekov’s ear, and it would probably be just as traumatizing if it were drawn at all realistically.

Mark Trail, 2/12/07

Sweet Jesus, Cherry has never looked scarier than she has in panel two. Note the blue hair combed forward to mask her freakish, bulbous forehead. She’s just an inch or so of foundation away from looking like Tammy Faye Baker.

Since Dan seems to have learned everything about fishing from magazine articles, I’m really looking forward to his encounter with the viscera-stained reality. “Hey, what are you doing to that fish? Wait, did you just use ‘gut’ as a verb? AAAHHHHH!”

Apartment 3-G, 2/12/07

When this weekend began (about three and a half weeks ago) I expressed my suspicions about Margo’s schedule. Now I’m even more dubious that a party planner would have a schedule that has her arriving home from Long Island early Monday morning, unless “party planner” is code for “prostitute” and “Long Island” is code for “the Port Authority bus terminal.”

In panel three, Tommie is going to hold that smug facial expression as long as she can, but eventually she will have to admit that her big weekend involved making out with a pencil-mustachioed theater impresario who forgot her name, and then giving her phone number to a shy guy she didn’t like. And then Margo will laugh and laugh and laugh.

For Better Or For Worse, 2/12/07

I am all in favor of harassing and abusing Michael Patterson by any means available. I’m not sure that I would have started out by shouting things at the top of my lungs directly into his face, but I’m willing to wait and see where Weed’s going with this.

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 2/13/07

For reasons I can’t explain I find the hillbilly library in panel one of this strip incredibly charming. It’s not just a thatched-roof, ill-built wooden shanty — it’s a thatched-roof, ill-built wooden shanty with a wooden monumental neoclassical entrance, complete with columns, which are presumably the trunks of local trees. It’s like the cargo cults of New Guinea: these poor mountain folks, having once been exposed to book-learnin’ during the heyday of the Tennessee Valley Authority but unable to produce any themselves, built this shell of a library and filled it with fake books in hope of recapturing the city slickers’ magic.

For Better Or For Worse, 2/13/07

In the interest of keeping foobish vitriol to a minimum, I am only going to discuss Weed’s dialogue in the second panel here; frankly, it arouses quite enough vitriol to go around. Mainly it strikes me as a particularly egregious example of Things Nobody Actually Says, to wit:

• “B.Y.O.B., right?” As the lead-off to his party description, this makes it sound like “B.Y.O.B.” is shorthand for something awesome rather than something tight-fisted that 22-year-olds do. It’s possible that it means something else in Canada, though. Like, since everyone drinks domestic beer all the time up there, this is going to be an all-import party, featuring Budweiser, Yeungling, Old Milwaukee, and a variety of beers from Belgium.
• “We line up a food trough…” Dear God, if these party-goers arrive at this party to discover to their horror that the only food available is a six-foot long, three-foot deep box of Chex Mix, I will be very, very happy.
• “…score some seats…” It’s true that Weed’s bizarrely spacious loft seems to remarkably free of sitting surfaces, other than some uncomfortable-looking ultramodern couches. However, the verb “score” conjures up a pleasing image of Weed and Mike driving in to the seedy side of Toronto, looking for this guy a friend of a friend of guy they work with knows … “Yo, I got Eames, I got Barcoloungers, I got Aeron, check it out … hey, you guys aren’t narcs, are you?”
• “…wind up the tunes…” Yes, we’ll gather ‘round the Victrola! We have the latest Dixieland platters! It will be delightful!
• “…an’ ta-daah!” I’m willing to accept dropped “d”s as a fundamental aspect of the Patterson patois, but somehow I expected better from you, Weeder.

Mary Worth, 2/13/07

Take a good look at Jeff’s facial expressions in these two panels. In the first, he’s actually grinning a little, as if he’s pleased that Mary, to the extent that she’s capable of expressing human need, is begging him to come home with her. Then she reaches out to touch his face, and he recoils in anger and disgust.

Pluggers, 2/13/07

Generally speaking, a plugger will barricade himself in his bedroom, shrieking about how he’s not going to turn his motherfucking back on you for one God-damned second, you cocksucker, on the sixth day of his meth binge.

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Comics coming this evening, but I’ve got two things to entertain you in the meantime.

Thing one: I got the following e-mail the other day from Marty Well:

I’m seeking a comic book collector or cartoon strip collector to interview on my blog. As you know, comics are a highly specialized area of ephemera. Lately, I’ve introduced my readers to many different types of collectible paper (i.e., vernacular photography, pulp paperbacks, brewerania, etc.) And now I’d like to feature a comic book or cartoon collector in an interview format. If you’re interested, I’ll send you the interview questions via email.

Since I don’t actually collect such things, I told him I’d kick the question to my readership. E-mail Marty if you’re interested, or check out his blog, Ephemera, for more background.

Thing two: For those of you who may have missed it in the comments, faithful reader Poteet points out that the official FBOFW site has a list of potential names for Mike’s horrible book. Recommended reading — if you dare.

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Mark Trail, 3/11/07

Holy smokes, this is one of the bestest “Mark Trail Teaches You About Nature And Crap” Sunday Mark Trails ever! None of the usual “Aren’t animals interesting/endangered/cute” nonsense today; instead, we get a crazed gang of killer elephants, harassing a pair of fleeing stereotypically garbed natives, flinging some red-shirted white dude across the savannah, and molesting a field of innocent sweet potatoes like so many 15,000-pound gophers. Mark himself, who usually strolls fearlessly into the frame to narrate as his chosen beast of the week menaces the nameless extras who are clearly desperate to break into the comics, has wisely chosen to stay safely off-camera when it comes to the tusked menace that is the elephant.

I’m guessing that the strong elephantaphobic slant of today’s strip was made possible from a large check from the International Federation of Ivory Harvesting Professionals.

For Better Or For Worse, 3/11/07

Yes, the whole point of this overcontrived family drama was to make John think that his wife was shaving her nether parts in front of several of her children; and yes, it’s both horrifying and kind of shamefully funny. I mostly want to point the second panel, which would make an excellent LiveJournal icon to sit atop the phrase “Mood: Suicidal”.

The Phantom, 3/11/07

I haven’t been covering the current Sunday Phantom storyline at all, because it’s pretty dull; it has centered some kind of weird temporal anomaly that has allowed the Ghost-Who-Violates-The-Laws-Of-Physics to interact with a group of gangsters from the ’30s who have been trying to stop a thinly veiled Amelia Earhart stand-in from making an historic flight of some sort. I’m kind of intrigued by the last panel, in which the very married Big Purple Guy allows the comely aviatrix to rest a hand on his enormous left pectoral muscle; I guess his logic is, “Hey, it’s 1937, I’m not going to be married for about 50 years, so anything goes!”

(UPDATE: Thanks to several commentors who pointed out to me that “Beryl Markham” is not actually some made-up character meant to avoid a lawsuit from Amelia Earhart’s estate, but a real person who actually lived in East Africa. I never should have doubted this, as the Phantom’s devotion to authenticity is notorious. Also, time travel is real.)

Curtis, 3/11/07

I could point out that Gunk’s “balloons” look remarkably like condoms, or that while “FOOO!” is a legitimate onomatopoeia, “TWIST!”, “BEND!”, and “SHAPE!” are not. My main concern, however, is that Gunk has used his devilish Flyspeck Island powers to create living beings out of inanimate matter, only to force them to end their short lives in a mercy killing and suicide. The face-flop is a usual exaggerated Curtis response to a joke, but here I hope that our protagonist is weeping openly at the sadistic little performance he was just forced to watch.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/17/07

Oh yeah, Gerald an’ April are gonna be at home all by themselves. And they’re going to “practicing.” And I think you and I both know what they’ll be practicing. That’s right: they’ll be practicing talking like actual fifteen-year-olds, rather than robots programmed by a sixty-year-old to say things like “make some green,” “the kiddies,” and, of course, “practice.”

Beetle Bailey, 3/17/07

For those of you who don’t know, a “magnum” is a one-and-a-half liter bottle of wine or champagne, which is twice the usual size. Thus, General Halftrack is merely proposing to drink himself into a stupor so as to at least briefly obliterate from his mind the hellish reality of the marriage he hates, and is not openly contemplating some kind of murder-suicide scenario. It’s still plenty grim, though perhaps not as off-putting as his flesh-colored mustache in panel two.

Curtis, 3/17/07

Clearly there’s some kind of off-panel donkey defecation going on in the first panel of today’s Curtis, but I have to admit that I’m disturbingly fixated on Curtis’ unfinished sentence. Why do you think they call it what? What? Is there some proverb or turn of phrase or bit of folk wisdom that involves donkey poop?

Judge Parker, 3/17/07

Wow, look at the expressions of utter panic on the faces Neddy and Abbey as they grapple with the concept of having missed their stop. If rich Americans, who are clearly the best and smartest people in the world, can’t handle the complexity of public transit, how in the world do the poor foreigners who ride it consistently make it home alive? Here’s a hint, kids: the train goes both ways along its whole route. You could just get off and get back on going back the other direction until you return to your stop, and not have to wander through whatever horrifying slumscape you’ve inevitably ended up in.

If you can’t tell, I’m growing more and more contemptuous of these two with each passing moment that they manage to further botch the relatively simple task of taking the train; thus, I am now openly rooting for the sinister punk rockers, and firmly believe that our pair of innocents abroad will deserve what they get. Fortunately, the evil punks probably don’t have anything sexually deviant planned for their victims, since, despite all evidence, they apparently believe that Neddy and Abbey are men. Yes, “Ils regardent la carte,” as Mohawk Punk puts it, means “They’re looking at the map,” but the “they” is masculine; the feminine would be “elles”. I don’t mean to imply that I’m some big expert Frenchie-talker — I was in charge of parlezing the vous when we were in a remarkably punk-rocker-free Paris a few years ago, and Mrs. C. will be happy to tell you how badly that went — but the ils/elles distinction is something you literally learn in the first week of French class.

Slylock Fox, 3/17/07

The most disturbing thing about this Slylock Fox? It’s not the fact that the cow has, in a burst of unnatural strength, managed to leap across a road; nor is it the cow’s unprovoked attack on the terrified rabbit, despite the fact that two species are not traditionally antagonistic towards each other. No, it’s the heavy-lidded, unfocused expression on the cow’s face, combined with the lolling tongue. That cow is high as a kite, and I don’t just mean literally.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/21/07

Oh, really, Warren. Did you believe that you would be safe in your own head if you were trying to woo a Patterson lass? Did you believe that every stray synapse firing wouldn’t be held up against an impossible jury to find you unworthy? Did you think that we wouldn’t be able to see into your very soul? Clearly, you have shown that you cannot be allowed to marry Liz. The only one pure enough of heart is the Mustache, who begged her to wait for him right after she was almost raped, when he was still married. ONLY THE MUSTACHE IS COMPLETELY PURE OF MIND AND READY FOR THE AWESOME MAJESTY OF LIZ.

Ziggy, 3/21/07

Ha ha! Ziggy has to wipe, but his dog won’t let him! This is simultaneously the most disgusting and most hilarious Ziggy ever.

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Crankshaft, 3/26/07

Not only does this joke manage to somehow be both horrifyingly tasteless and completely incomprehensible; it also is the exact same joke that this trip used to similarly poor effect last June (and thanks to faithful reader Gg83 for pointing this out in the comments). At least that version was told by other characters.

Does Crankshaft own any garments other than that jacket? I don’t even want to imagine what it must smell like.

For Better Or For Worse, 3/26/07

The other day I was saying to myself, “Josh, you know what FBOFW really needs? A really sanctimonious teen sex storyline.” April has always been the odd Foob out; now she needs to decide if she’s stay pure, or give in to her sinful urges, forever shame the name of Patterson, and join Team Gig with Becky. I for one am looking forward to the horror.

Gil Thorp, 3/26/07

You know what’s even more thrilling and exciting than writing a nice, long paper about fairness and ethics? Looking at a crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics.

You know what’s even more thrilling and exciting than looking at a crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics? Looking at two crude drawing of two people writing nice, long papers about fairness and ethics.

Judge Parker, 3/26/07

Oh my God, Abbey’s maternal instincts about the need to accompany Neddy to Paris were right on the money: she’s been there for two days and she already thinks it’s fun being a whore. WATCH CLOSELY, APRIL PATTERSON: THIS IS YOUR FUTURE IF YOU GO PAST FIRST BASE BEFORE THE AGE OF THIRTY.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/30/07

I’m not entirely sure what I would considered to be the best possible way for this storyline to play out; it probably would have involved April an’ Gerald having a frank discussion about their respective thoughts about sex and feelings for each other, informed by knowledge about contraception that they learned in school and from their parents. But you know what? This scenario — where they almost let their fifteen-year-old hormones get the better of them but then don’t get the chance, and almost got caught but don’t, with Elly and John none the wiser — works for me. Hopefully in the longer term it’s just another awkward adolescent moment that will be looked back on years later with fond amusement, and not not chapter one of April’s Descent Into Whoredom. Because if she wants to wear something trampy at Liz and Anthony’s wedding (and you know she will), it’d be harder with a bun in the oven.

Mark Trail, 3/30/07

How not to solve a mystery: Like all too many human beings, Mark has seen a little evidence, used that evidence to jump to a conclusion, and now goes into the world not in the spirit of genuine inquiry, but only looking for something that confirms what he already believes. I’d love to see him shown up. “Come on, Andy, let’s look over here in that nearest cove! Hmm, what have we here … some logs … some debris … Dan’s bloated, rotting corpse … dammit, where are the things that will confirm what I believe?”

Sally Forth, 3/30/07

Oh, come on now, we all know — whether we want to or not — that the Forths screw like minks, constantly. I mean, look at this. Or this. Or this. They probably really go nuts when Sally’s totally blotto, which is pretty much all the time. “Been a while” probably means “since lunch, when Ted drove over and we did it in the car out in the parking lot.”

The Wizard of Id, 3/30/07

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second:

1. The Wizard of Id is written by Johnny Hart.
2. Johnny Hart is a strict creationist, as indicated by his constant ridicule of Darwin in B.C.
3. The Wiz here implies that the King is descended from monkeys.
4. [HEAD EXPLODES]

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Mary Worth, 4/1/07

Ah, a Charterstone pool party! Always a nexus of pettiness and backhanded sniping, and always an excellent opportunity for Professor Chinbeard to make an ass out of himself. Usually he achieves this goal by insulting people behind their backs or attacking those who dare to show an ounce of compassion for others, but he’s more than happy to blatantly ogle the troubled, mousy new girl in front of his wife if that’s what it takes. It’s a good thing he wore his sexiest rust-colored leisure suit and inky black shirt for the occasion!

It’s hard to know what’s going on in Vera’s head, since she’s so impossibly subdued and guarded, but I’m guessing it’s something like, “Yep, this is exactly what I was afraid this scene was going to be like.”

Mark Trail, 4/1/07

Meanwhile, Mark Trail is either very, very high, or about four years old. This is the only explanation I can offer for what we see here today. “Did you know … SUNSPOTS! They make … pretty girls in bikinis … and planes and dolphins and whales OUT OF CONTROL! And then the pelican made a big hurricane … WHOOOSH. That’s why we built this huge crystal rocket ship in Washington, D.C.! WE’RE GOING TO THE SUN TO FIGHT THE SUNSPOTS! HOORAY!”

The Phantom, 4/1/07

Hmm, it looks like “DePaul & Ryan,” who’ve been drawing the daily Phantom for a while now, have taken over the Sunday duties from Graham Nolan. It’s too bad, as I’ve been a fan of Nolan’s work in this setting, but now he’ll have more energy to lavish on June Morgan’s breasts (he’s the RMMD artist too). Anyway, today’s new adventure belies the notion that Bangalla is a happy, healthy post-colonial democracy. People walking with a suitcase at night, in the same neighborhood as the presidential palace? They must be … suspects! Some quality time down at the police station with a rubber hose will loosen their tongues and establish exactly why we should be suspicious of them!

Also today, a couple of throwaway panels of note:

Panel from For Better Or For Worse, 4/1/07

If you looked at this in your paper today and recoiled in horror but then consoled yourself by saying, “Well, at least nobody recorded this and then uploaded the MP3 to the official FBOFW site,” then I’m about to shatter your world of complacency into countless shards of anguish (note: don’t click this link unless you want to explain to anyone within earshot why you’re listening to FBOFW-themed “rock” music).

Panels from Dennis the Menace, 4/1/07

It may not be menacing as such, but it’s at least a little disturbing to see Joey and Dennis contemplate the tempting target that is Mr. Wilson’s enormous ass.

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You know, faithful readers e-mail me stuff all the time, or post links to things in the comments, much of which I’d like to feature but often forget to. I’ve had a pile of stuff sitting in my in-box now for a while, so here’s a bunch of funny stuff all at once!

First off, there was some discussion in the comments a while back about a long-ago National Lampoon newspaper spoof that targeted several of our favorite strips. Faithful reader Moon Mullins dug out his copy, scanned the strips, and sent ’em to me, and I repost them here for your memory-lane-travelling-down needs:

Also, faithful reader commodorejohn mashed up two of our favorite targets in They’ll FOOB It Every Time:

And hey! Did someone say “wacky YouTube videos”? Here’s a couple that found their way to me. The first is a super-surreal film school project called Rex Morgan, M.D.: The Motion Picture:

The second, Protectors of the Earth, answers the long-standing question, “What if Mark Trail, Mary Worth, Rex Morgan, and Garfield were a crime-fighting team?”

On an actually sort of educational tip, if you’re fascinated by those uncanny spoof editorial cartoons in the Onion, you might be interested in this story, in which LA Times opinionista (and faithful reader) Tim Cavanaugh tracks down the artist.

And finally, a faithful reader known only as “J.” felt I should see this (he claims it’s been floating around the Internet forever), and so I share it with all of you. Happy Tuesday, everybody!

UPDATE: Faithful reader Sakurai also did this awesome TDIET spoof:

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Sally Forth and Zits, 4/4/07

Man, I guess the liberal media really is determined to undermine the traditional American family. First, Disney insists on churning out movie after movie featuring single parents, and now Sally and Ted and Connie and Walt have dropped any pretense of wanting to spend time with their offspring. The Duncans have at least waited until their son was legal to work in some dead-end job before abandoning him to his fate; the Forths apparently don’t care whether Hilary forth ends up as a child prostitute or in some kind of Dickensian pickpocket ring, as long as they’re left alone to screw.

Gil Thorp, 4/4/07

Typically, Gil Thorp storylines come to a screeching halt as soon as each team is eliminated in the playdowns. (Can anyone remember the last time that any Mudlark team actually won a championship? That’s the sort of hard-hitting question Marty Moon would ask Coach Thorp if he weren’t so drunk.) After each season ends in shame and defeat, a new one begins, full of hope and new difficult-to-follow drama. That’s why I’m so pleased to see that the lady jocks of Milford are moving from basketball to softball and still buzzing over l’affaire autoclub, as the French punks in Judge Parker would say. I’m dying to know exactly what it is that Tyler is going to say to the softball team that’s going to get Brynna Antenna back into their good graces. I hope that he stands there in the outfield for a minute while they all stare at him, then clubs himself in the back of the head a few times and runs off.

On the self-clubbing tip (ew), why haven’t more of you entered the Self-Clubbing Tyler lookalike contest? I mean, how hard is it to look like this?

Well, actually, it’s really quite hard, but the lure of fortune and glory should overcome that. I’ve gotten a few entries so far — and to be frank they’re all quite strong — but nowhere near the numbers we saw for the Finger-Quotin’ Margo contest. So send in those pictures, damn it!

For Better Or For Worse, 4/4/07

I really have no desire whatsoever to wade into the twisted swamp of teenage gender politics here. Really. None. Whatsoever. But I did want to feature this strip because it contains my new hero. I speak, of course, of the dude at the far right in panel two, the one with the gap in his teeth and the eyes the size of dinner plates who’s saying “Hoooo!” I shall call him “Gap-Toothed Starey ‘Hoooo!’ Guy.” It’s clear that he needs to be brought front and center in this feature right away, and possibly given his own spinoff strip. What makes Gap-Toothed Starey “Hoooo!” Guy tick? What’s his home life like? What, other than risque gossip with his buds, makes him say “Hoooo!”? Will he be going to university? Now I can’t wait until next month’s letters are up on the Foob site on May 1; I’m really looking forward to his missive, which will be entitled “Hoooo!”

Archie, 4/4/07

Man, right up until that last panel, I was convince that the Archie-Joke-Generating-Laugh-Unit 3000 had discovered absurdist whimsy. Replace Archie and his dad with Griffy and Zippy and it would make a great deal of sense. Sadly, it all gets very bourgeois in the last panel.

Archie himself has never looked more like a baffled and angry lowland gorilla than he does in panel two.

Beetle Bailey, 4/4/07

Ignoring the ostensible joke of this strip (remarkably easy to do, since it doesn’t make a lick of sense), I have to say that there’s something unspeakably creepy about the way that all of the assembled soldiery at the ostensible celebration in the second panel is completely lacking in any indication of joy or excitement or any other normal human emotion. The affectless Beetle handing a balloon solemnly to General Halftrack is just the icing on the cake. If you told me that all of these people were about to unholster their sidearms, blast their commanding officer to bits as he stands on his makeshift podium, and then walk away in silence, I honestly wouldn’t be a bit surprised.

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Zits and Sally Forth, 4/7/07

On Saturday, we reach the logical conclusion of the set-up from earlier this week. This may look like further disaster for the Forths, but all the pieces are actually falling neatly into place: Sally’s mother is left isolated in her hateful splendor to sleep on a futon, Jackie can spend two weeks baby-sitting Hilary, with her permissive lifestyle opening all sorts of new experiences up to her that her hyper-controlling parents would never allow, and Ted and Sally will finally get to take that trip to Paris. Connie and Walt, meanwhile, can just do it like bunnies, God bless ’em.

For Better Or For Worse, 4/7/07

See, now, here’s a mature attitude about marriage, you hedonists. It’s something to be endured and withstood with great suffering, something that will force you to move out of the comforting womb of your parents house no matter how hard to try to stay there, and, of course, something that should not include any yucky sex once you’re managed to produce the required pair of children. I hope you’re sufficiently shamed, Forths and Duncans!

Shoe, 4/7/07

Ha ha, it’s funny because … oh, wait, it’s not funny at all. “She’s actually outside right now, waiting for me to get some food. For the love of God, call the police! She’s insane!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/7/07

“Yes! Rex will engage him in thinly veiled homoerotic banter for days! We’ll have plenty of time to come up with an action plan!”

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Apartment 3-G, 4/18/07

I am desperate to know more about Margo’s assistant Sam, and not just because I can live out through him my longstanding fantasy of scrambling to carry out Margo’s imperious orders. Look at that wide-eyed wonder in panel two: “Ladies in New York get married? GAWRSH!” I think Margo just stood outside the Port Authority bus station one day, waiting for someone attractive and not-too-bright to step off a Greyhound with small town hopes and big city dreams, and hired him on the spot before he learned the details of typical New York pay scales. However, his cynical look of disbelief at the word “love” in panel three indicates that New York is already wearing down his soul.

For Better Or For Worse, 4/18/07

There’s always an ongoing struggle for the coveted title of “Unintentionally Creepiest FBOFW Character,” but Deanna is making a good bid for it today, with her near-orgasmic musings on replicating her in-laws’ family in photo-perfect detail. This of course is someone whose greatest act of initiative was to get pregnant “accidentally” by “forgetting” to take her birth control pills, which Elly probably bribed her to do somehow. Maybe the house itself is the promised reward.

On the other hand, as several commentors have pointed out, the ravine that she’s waxing about so rhapsodically is the same one where April notoriously almost drowned, with only noble Farley saving her from a watery death. Since the junior Pattersons don’t own any skilled rescue beasts, perhaps Deanna is hoping that a couple quick drownings, Mike’s subsequent suicide, and a sale at market rates of a house they bought at a steep family discount add up to her ticket to sweet, sweet freedom.

Gil Thorp, 4/18/07

Ah ha! See, “Mr. Rickey” is Branch Rickey, the Brooklyn Dodgers General Manager who famously helped break baseball’s color barrier by signing Jackie Robinson (whose major league career started sixty years ago this week). I’m telling you, this amiable old black man is going to explain to these young white people how Jackie Robinson blazed a trail of opportunity for them.

Judge Parker, 4/18/07

We’ve all been assuming that this mysterious figure is Canadian Cedric the Super Butler, though he appears to not be wearing Cedric’s trademark glasses, so who knows. As a commentor or two pointed out, the shadowy stranger’s use of the word “scum” echoes Nicolas Sarkozy, the conservative candidate in this coming weekend’s French presidential election, who famously and controversially used the term to describe rioting youths in Paris’ poor suburbs when he was Interior Minister in 2005. Perhaps Sarko is wearying of the hand shaking and baby kissing and has decided to embark on a little side campaign of his own … a campaign of vigilante justice. Since his intervention will deny Judge Parker readers the opportunity to see Neddy and Abbey sexily fight off their attackers with lead pipes and flamethrowers, this will just give Americans another reason to hate France once he’s elected.

Incidentally, the fact that Cedric/Sarkozy/whoever hears the punks speaking English indicates that the English we’ve been seeing in the word balloons isn’t just a translation of the execrable French for our benefits: they’re actually switching back and forth between English and execrable French. Hee.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/18/07

OK, Rex Morgan, we all know that it’s fun to look at June’s breasts, but there’s a little something called “subtlety.” I mean, Jesus.

By the way, if I were Heather, I wouldn’t be all that heartened by the magical thinking of a preschooler with a hideously misshapen head. Now, if Abbey the Wonderdog had barked her vote of confidence at me, I’d feel reassured.

The Lockhorns, 4/18/07

I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here. Was Leroy attempting to hold out on Loretta by squirreling away a portion of his meager paycheck for his own use? Is Loretta upset that he would cut their already cramped budget down further? It’s hard to tell whose moment of triumph this is supposed to be because they look so damn depressed. Because in the Lockhorns, nobody ever wins.

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For Better Or For Worse, 5/1/07

Actually, I’m pretty sure I can’t say it any better than I did on the previous metapost: AAAAHHHH NOOOO THE MUSTACHE NOOOO.

The dialog in the first couple of panels is a little hard to parse, but it seems to be implying that Elizabeth is a bridesmaid, yes? That’s nice, considering that Shawna-Marie last appeared in the strip more than two years ago (at which time I quite gratuitously called her a “Québécois hillbilly”), and then appeared only as a vehicle to talk shit about the Mustache’s wife.

I also like the quote marks around “cream.” That way we know she’s really saying “slut.”

Archie, 5/1/07

Ah, Archie-Laugh-Generating-Joke-Unit 3000, someday you’ll pass that Turing test! But today is not that day, my bleeping mechanical friend. Obviously, the teacher’s gist is not hard to follow, but apparently the ALGJU 3000 was given some kind of upper limit to the number of words to its punchline, since the joke has been compacted into a sentence no human would ever utter.

It’s a good thing the word balloon was kept small, though, as otherwise we wouldn’t be treated to that vast expanse of empty wall.

Gil Thorp, 5/1/07

Surely Clambake’s “home remedy” will involve some ungodly country-style poultice made out of cornstarch and crawdad juice, but I’d love to see him say, “Here’s my home remedy: get the ball over the damn plate, kids. Now go get Clambake some whiskey.”

Judge Parker, 5/1/07

Here’s my new nickname for Cedric: He’s the butler who shared too much. Cedric, I know you’re all young and hip and a “new generation of domestic servant” or whatever, but the whole point of being a butler is that you completely fade into the background. No sign of your personality should be evident to those for whom you buttle (note: “buttle” is an actual verb). If you must have a sex life, it should revolve around service to your employer, as Groves’ does. At no point should a simple heavily-armed back alley rescue-and-extraction devolve into an animated description of your various kinks and/or fears about mortality. With this kind of attitude, you’re going to remain a temp forever.

And now, a couple of jokes about Cedric’s freaky-looking right hand in panel three.

Joke one: I’d be worried about growing old too if the arthritis in my hand were as bad as Cedric’s!

Joke two: In panel three, Cedric is flashing the sign of his gang, the “Cradle Robbers.”

Mark Trail, 5/1/07

Poor Rusty doesn’t understand that he’ll never be able to go anywhere with Mark. That’s why there’s the electric fence around the cabin: so that nobody in the outside world will accidentally look upon his hideous, misshapen face.

Marvin, 5/1/07

You know what would be funnier? If this joke were used in Momma!

See, Momma is often about an old woman and the old men who try to woo her and …

OK, you know what? That was probably over the line. I apologize. Carry on.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/2/07

Ha ha! Hugh Avery is sitting in the dry, crusty, white remains of “Sarah’s” “ice cream”!

No, wait, take those quotes off of “ice cream.” We all know the Morgans love their ice cream.

I am looking forward to the continued ritual humiliation of Hugh as this adventure continues. He’s forced to sit in day-old ice cream! His head is forced into a bucket of dirty water! He’s pelted with bottles in an alley! It’s just like a Jackie Chan movie! Fortunately, after suffering these indignities, Jackie Chan generally goes all crazy martial arts-stylie against his oppressors, which we can only pray will happen here.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/2/07

Wow, these two are looking awful grim in panel five there. Like, Funky Winkerbean grim. Buck up kids; you’ve just managed to avoid a lifetime of bland, soggy togetherness. You ought to be praising the heavens as you run from each other as fast as humanly possible.

Some commentors have suggested that the Mustache’s “escort” is going to be … his daughter! Liz an’ Anthony’s love can find flower at the beautiful nuptuals after all! Except that that, since they’re both going anyway, the presence of little Françoise would not preclude them from going there together, sitting together, grinding on each other to “Can’t Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe,” etc. No, some poor not-Liz girl (let’s call her DisposaDate) will be forced to sullenly sit at their table, idly picking at her warmed-over chicken, while the Mustache and Lizardbreath discover the depth of their watery, predictable love for one another.

Also: “To what do I owe the honor of this most welcome visit”? “He did it up right”? “I came to see if you’d be my ‘escort’?” Who the hell writes this dialogue? It hurts my soul.

Mary Worth, 5/2/07

Hey, everyone! Brother! Just in case you’re wondering. Brother.

Gil Thorp, 5/2/07

Oh, Ken, it looks like “Clambake” is “coming” to “the Bucket” whether you “like” it or not. I love Gil Thorp so God-damned much. It’s a nonstop thrill ride of hilarious depravity.

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Beetle Bailey, 5/3/07

Sarge’s attempts to avoid attachments with women while remaining ambiguous about his own preferences are becoming increasingly heart-rending. Even his faithful dog is trying to get him paired off into safe, Army regulation-approved heteronormality.

Archie, 5/3/07

You’re close, Archie-Laugh-Generating-Joke-Unit 3000, but the punchline is only funny if Archie is actually doing something positive for Mr. Lodge, albeit accidentally. Otherwise it’s just a baffling nonsequitur, or an implication that Archie is a Christ-like figure with mystical healing powers, neither of which are ideal.

Family Circus, 5/3/07

Oh, they start them young with the arbitrary gender markers in the Keane household, yes sir.

Blondie, 5/3/07

Speaking of gender arbitrariness, I’m sure Blondie is just thrilled that Dagwood’s chronic narcolepsy suddenly means that she has to cook breakfast for three. I imagine she’s just getting that pan nice and searing hot before she starts braining people with it.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/3/07

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Wait, that’s not really fair. It’s hard to work yourself up to ask someone out, and … no, hold on, I was right the first time. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

Also, Mark Trail has consisted of a lot of nattering about birds and airports and crap like that for the last few days, but I thought you’d be interested in a certain similarity of body language between today’s final panel and a strip from last week:

Damn, everybody wants a piece of this handsome outdoorsman!

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Those of you following the Self-Clubbing Tyler contest no doubt remember the awesomeness of the Self-Clubbing Tyler Action Figure, created by mad genius Dean Booth:

Well, in case you hadn’t been paying attention, Dean auctioned off his magnificent creation in the comments, with proceeds going to me, because Dean’s such an awesome fellow. The winning bidder, who wants to remain anonymous, donated the action figure to me as well to do with as I please — so it’s going to the winning entry! That’s right: if your entry into the Self-Clubbing Tyler lookalike contest comes out on top, you will be sent this magnificent creation to display proudly in your home.

But! The contest won’t last forever (much as it may seem like it). Send your pics by this coming Monday, May 7 if you want this fab prize! Operators are standing by!

Speaking of prizes, someone we know who’s “a real catch” (according to her mom) needs a date for Shawna-Marie’s wedding! Faithful reader willethompson, in his usual inimitable and hilarious style, breaks down her options. But hurry up and pick one, Liz, before he asks out that nice new girl in accounting!

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Beetle Bailey, 5/4/07

Beetle is a zombie.

Herb and Jamaal, 5/4/07

Sarah and Herb’s sex life is pretty much nonexistent, much to her disappointment.

Family Circus, 5/4/07

Jeffy is a solipsist.

Apartment 3-G, 5/4/07

Lu Ann does not actually have any friends and family who love her.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/4/07

Liz is a total idiot.

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Dennis the Menace, 5/24/07

Dennis’ black, shriveled heart does not understand this feeling you call “love.”

Gil Thorp, 5/24/07

The Lady Mudlark softball team ought to forget about breast cancer and get Brynna Antenna to a reconstructive surgeon who can do something about her leathery mask of a face.

Family Circus, 5/24/07

Billy will go far.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/24/07

April can destroy things with her mind.

The Lockhorns, 5/24/07

The Lockhorns’ marriage is so depressing that it defies all human understanding.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 5/24/07

Child labor is alive and well in Appalachia, or the Ozarks, or wherever the hell this strip is supposed to be set.

Pluggers, 5/24/07

Or died. He may well be dead.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/29/07

Ha ha! Awww, Rex doesn’t like mean ol’ Hugh! Rex thinks Hugh’s a bad son! Plus Hugh was not nice to Rex! So Rex has busted out the angry face! It’s OK, Rex, it’s OK, Heather’s got the situation in hand now. Put down the celery before you hurt somebody with it.

Archie, 5/29/07

That Archie! You can totally tell why all the girls are always fighting over him. He’s thrown into a state of naked panic and despair whenever he has to make the simple kinds of choices necessary to function as a human being in society! Speaking of which…

For Better Or For Worse, 5/29/07

For whatever reason — residual affection for a strip I liked in my youth, some vague desire to keep a hold of my dignity — I always feel like I need to step back from full-throated Foob hate, so I’ll try to keep this as rational as possible. It is, in fact, true that buying a house a huge leap, a stressful responsibility. It’s natural to worry that, if your financial situation changes, you might not only lose the house, but all the money you’ve invested in it to that point — a worry that might be all the keener if a big part of your income comes from freelancing and is thus not predictable. And then there are the little costs, like maintenance, that would normally be your landlord’s responsibility that suddenly you have to cover. It’s a Big Deal.

And yet exactly none of this has actually been discussed in the strip. We don’t know why Mikey is so freaked out about buying the house; as far as I can tell, he’s just sitting under some kind of smoldering cloud of existential dread about it. It’s not like he even really had to decide to do it — with the fire and his parents’ machinations, it’s like the choice was made for him! (In real life, this could of course be the very cause of his unease, but again if that’s the case, nothing has been said to that effect.) Today we learn that Mike is in such a state about the prospect of property ownership that he wants to punish his body until his mind shuts down. The turn to booze and drugs is inevitable. If Mike spends all his days in the coming frozen-in-time version of the strip in some sort of dreamy opium haze, every Foob outrage we have suffered to this point will have been worth it.

Judge Parker, 5/29/07

If you’re sympathizing with Sam’s hair-pulling panic in panel three (“The ladies, they’ll just go out with that credit card and come back with three new dresses they don’t need! And an apartment in Paris! Am I right, fellas?”), I must remind you that all of the fabulous wealth that keeps this motley family in the lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed at stately Spencer Farms is Abbey’s (inherited, I believe). Perhaps he’s worried that any pinch on the family finances will reveal that his claims to be contributing with his big-shot lawyer’s salary have been nothing but lies. I’ve been reading this strip for two and a half years and I haven’t witnessed anything from him that might qualify as a billable hour.

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For Better Or For Worse, 6/3/07

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, while I don’t find the “Grandpa Jim is horny” strips to be knee-slappingly hilarious or anything, I don’t find them as distasteful as everyone else seems to. Really, no matter who we are, we’re all hopefully going to be old and infirm one day, and will probably be idly ruminating on and/or actively enjoying physical contact with the young and nubile. It’s too bad for Iris that apparently she’s going to have to have a stroke for anyone to touch her. Anyway, it could be a lot worse; we could be subjected to:

• Mike and Dee’s shell-shocked inability to cope with middle-class affluence and terrific dumb luck.
• Liz coming to the insane realization that the Mustache, his hate-spawned daughter, and his basement concentration camp are all she ever wanted in this life.
• April raging at anyone or everyone.

In that light, little interludes like Grandpa’s fantasy life, or Ellie’s sheet-shaving, are positively pleasant.

Zits, 6/3/07

Or, you know, one of Ellie’s kids could be devouring her brain out from the inside. Actually, that might be kind of fun to see.

Family Circus, 6/3/07

Speaking of things that are unpleasant, didya ever know that Big Daddy Keane and his woman used to like to mack on the couch? Betcah didn’t! Betcha didn’t want to in a million, million years! And yet here we are.

In the interest of symmetry, the empty nest version of the couple in the final panel really ought to be making out as well, as we all know that’s what happens when the kids leave the house. Maybe raising four children is so exhausting that they can’t work up the energy. Or maybe they’re thinking, menopause or no, that they’re not taking a chance on another one of those ever happening again.

Hi and Lois, 6/3/07

If after-school specials have taught me anything, it’s that the phrase “He’s cool, right?” in this context means “He will participate in, or at least not inform the relevant authorities about, our illegal drug use/underage drinking, right?” Thus I can’t help but be a little disappointed in the denouement here, and a little disappointed that Ditto isn’t more disappointed.

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Mary Worth, 6/7/07

You know those people who say, “Oh, I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when I retire!” I am not one of those people. I am basically lazy. Thus, if I had been cast out of my enormous mansion in Pacific Cliffs, and forced to live in a filthy tenement and get an archaic job like “typist” at an ad agency to survive, and then moved into a sublet at a soulless condo complex next door to Mary Worth and that was a step up — well, even if the experience did make me stronger, I might consider myself to be strong enough to go back to the lap of luxury when the opportunity presented itself, is what I’m saying.

On the other hand, if this strip has any desire to tone down the Flowers in the Attic vibe, panel two is NOT HELPING. Could the lap of luxury come at too high a price? I’d have to find out exactly how much luxury we’re talking about here before I make that call.

Hi and Lois, 6/7/07

Today’s Hi and Lois takes on the tough issue of twin-on-twin violence. I have to say that I’m actually a little creeped out by the way Ditto is slowly and deliberately rolling up the sleeve on his punchin’ arm, while Dot stands a few feet away, cringing in terror, but not fleeing. Fortunately, mom is on the case, making sure that Ditto merely humiliates and degrades his sister verbally.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/7/07

So, um, did I totally misidentify Shawna-Marie way back in 2005, or have she and her entire family switched races, as in the hilarious ’80s comedy Soul Man?

Also, it does seem kind of strange to try to switch your processional at the rehearsal, but, hey, if your mother is a terrifying control freak (I believe they call her the “black Mira Sobinski”), I can see how the prospect of confronting her might be kind of anxiety-inducing. On the other hand, they may not be actually at the rehearsal; according to the first panel, they’re just “go[ing] over the rehearsal.” That’s right, this is the wedding rehearsal rehearsal, people. After all, you want the rehearsal to go off smoothly, don’t you? Of course you do. I’ll tell you this: at the real rehearsal, Shawna-Marie will smile and rehearse with grace and dignity, and not spend all her time mouthing off about that rock-and-roll hippity hop music.

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For Better Or For Worse, 6/12/07

So, Mt. Foob has gotten sick of my cutting decision to refer to the Milquetoasty-Potential-Love-Interest-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named only as “The Mustache,” eh? They’ve gotten so sick of it that they’ve chosen to remove his mustache, eh? Well, two can play at this game! From now on, he’s … The Vast, Disconcerting, Fleshy Expanse Of Upper Lip! Or TV,D,FEOUL for short. I can go as far down this road as you want, Foobmeisters!

I am in fact 99 percent sure that’s supposed to be Anthony, though he looks weird enough that I can understand the doubts. The tip-off is the freckles, people. I’m assuming his suddenly non-droopy features are a product of FBOFW’s patented “Sexy-Cam” technique.

I just want to say that I love the collection of bizarre, misshapen faces in the second panel. Apparently they saved money on the tent by just getting married at a circus freak show.

(P.S. Remember that bit of Foobery from T Campbell I solicited artists for a couple of weeks ago? The results are here. Sadly, we may be too late after all…)

Momma, 6/12/07

I don’t pretend to fully understand what makes a fellow attractive, but I always thought of Tony Blair less as “cute” and more as “pasty and somewhat weasel-faced.” (He’s gotten better looking with age, I’ll admit.) Of course, Momma has long been slightly obsessed with the attractiveness of prime ministers, so maybe this is all of a part. Maybe, like her brother Francis, Mary Lou just has a thing for the head of a cabinet government elected by a parliament. She just can’t get worked up about the separation of powers we have going on the United States, and wants Tony Blair and the sexy, sexy Westminster system he represents to come over across the pond.

I realize I’m just pussyfooting around the larger issue here, which is that this cartoon makes no sense. But it makes so very much no sense that I’m somewhat in awe of even approaching the lack of sense that it makes.

Pluggers, 6/12/07

Oh, come on, Pluggers! See, there’s supposed to be a little wordplay going on here to justify your existence; otherwise, there’s nothing but passive-aggressive anti-elitism and the least sexy furries known to man. Here, I’ll help you out. “Pluggers don’t use twist ties … they just give the bag a good …” Did you guess what the last word should have been? Something that appeared earlier in the sentence? Hmmmm?

Archie, 6/12/07

Overheard in the year 2015: “Boy, Archie turned into Tom of Finland-style beefcake so gradually, we all hardly even noticed it. And they all used to be so wholesome…”

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Dennis the Menace, 6/13/07

I don’t pretend to keep track of what the kids are into these days in terms of whimsical and impractical forms of transportation — I’ve only just got my mind around the concept of “heelies.” That having been said, we do have a number of Dennis/Joey-aged kids in the neighborhood, and I have yet to see any of them bouncing down the street on the back of some sort of freakish pastel-colored fitness ball with a handle. Honestly, it looks like they’ve somehow lassoed and tamed the terrifying balloon-guard thingy from The Prisoner. File this under “menacing,” in the “surreal and disturbing” subcategory.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/13/07

All right, let me just say this: I love her! She’s short, she’s brassy, she’s not afraid to show off her dental work. In three panels she’s displayed more personality than Liz has in the past three years of moping, thought ballooning, fleeing from excitement, and getting cheated on. Who’s with me on Team Julia?

Of course, the first meeting between Anthony’s new love interest/employee and the Great White Goose That Broke His Heart is rife with underlying tension, and Julia, being a forward lass, is clearly up for some psychological gameswomanship. The question is, what not-so-subtle message is she trying to send to Liz with her little dental display?

• “See these teeth? Back off, bitch, or I will bite you.”
• “I’m putting my finger down my throat because you make me want to barf.”
• “Yeah, I can open my mouth this wide — and you wonder why Anthony’s smiling? Oh, I guess you don’t know what I’m talking about, since you’re so determined to avoid a cream dress at your wedding — your wedding that ain’t ever gonna happen!”
• “Yeah, he actually said ‘inconvenient tooth.’ Your whole family’s sense of humor sucks. Why couldn’t I have had his assistant the morsel work on me?”

Funky Winkerbean, 6/13/07

Since I am usually relentlessly derisive towards Funky Winkerbean’s relentless grimness, I feel obligated in the interest of fairness to mention that I’ve really been enjoying the “freaks and geeks go to the prom” storyline this week. At first I thought that Mopey Pete was moving in for a smooch in the first panel, but I think he’s just permanently slouched due to the crushing weight of his ennui.

Judge Parker, 6/13/07

Oh, man, I love Sophie: girl knows how to work that entirely unearned wealth. You might recall that the wacky Raju storyline was set in motion when she outsourced her homework to India. By the time she’s 21, she’ll either be presiding over a Spencer Farms-branded horsefeed import-export business and using her deep pockets to undercut her competitors, or snorting coke off of a Piet Mondrian and then beating the servants with a gold brick.

Luann, 6/13/07

I am trying with all my might to ignore the completely asinine current plot of Luann, but I cannot ignore the visuals in panel two. Why is Bernice wearing very dark and clownishly applied lipstick? Why is Luann suddenly sporting very long, probably fake eyelashes? Are they trying to show us the strip would look like if it were acted out by two cut-rate drag queens?

Because if they are, I’m honestly kind of intrigued. I’m not sure what it would take to get me interested in this storyline, but “having it acted out by two cut-rate drag queens” is probably on the list somewhere.

Mary Worth, 6/13/07

“Are you serious? After the last one, where I was ogled and belittled by the freaks who live here? Oh, hell no.”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/13/07

Look at that little smile in panel three — Hugh is doing some Creepster Math in his head. “Hot, emotionally vulnerable stepmom + hot-sounding June – annoying, meddling Pete = three-way! Looks like this little trip to America was worth my while after all!”

Zippy the Pinhead, 6/13/07

Zippy the Pinhead isn’t the groundbreaking strip it once was, but I’ll say this for it: when Zippy takes off his shirt, he’s got nipples, by God, unlike Mark Trail or Dagwood Bumstead. A pointless taboo broken!

While I’m perfectly comfortable seeing his dainty little nips, I have to say that his sock(?)-clad, Hagar the Horrible-esque, potato-shaped feet scare the hell out of me.

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Apartment 3-G, 6/14/07

“Mamma mia! I get so excited, I forget how to form the past tense in English, even though I speak the language perfectly well most of the time! Madre de Dios!”

I love the epic furrow in Margo’s brow in the first panel. She’s clearly thinking “Note to self: Never ask Gabriella to tell a story ever again.”

Gil Thorp, 6/14/07

Oh, Gil Thorp: so continuously delightful. What exactly do you suppose Yul Brynna’s wearing on her head there in the first panel? A doo-rag? An Aunt Jemima-style head kerchief? A plastic bag? I’d suggest another lookalike contest, but I do want my readership to maintain a certain degree of dignity.

Lisa Wyche is, of course, inevitably going to shave her head in solidarity with Brynna’s stupidity. Perhaps it will spark an epidemic of head-shaving for no good reason whatsoever. Then when Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp does get cancer, they’ll be too involved in their depilatory drama to notice or care.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/14/07

So apparently they’re just going to keep making Julia shorter and wider in the hopes that eventually we won’t like her anymore. Well, guess what? She could be a God-damned puddle and I’d still find her more appealing than Liz “Singularity Of Self-Absorbed Passivity” Patterson. TEAM JULIA FOREVER! WOO!

Funky Winkerbean, 6/14/07

“And then, once I was there, of course I solicited a 14-year-old for sex. I mean, that’s what you do on that site, right?”