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Ziggy, 8/23/07

Ziggy always looks depressed, but he’s got a particularly traumatized expression on his weird, mushy face today. He’s sitting in that chair with a death grip on his little hat and a thousand-mile stare like he’s just received some terrible, terrible news. I’m not exactly sure what product or service brings one to the “Family Tree Genealogy” store/office/otherwise featureless room where a guy sits behind a desk; presumably you pay them money and they look up the same stuff on the Internet that you could have found for free in ten minutes if you weren’t a moron. Anyway, getting back to the mysterious little drama here, obviously Ziggy’s just been given some terrible news about his family, though I’d be hard-pressed to come up with what exactly a genealogist could say that would get you as worked up as our lovable loser is here. “Hmm, now where did I put your file … ah, here it is, Ziggy Hitler! Well, I have some interesting news about those European relatives…”

Apropos of nothing except that it’s simultaneously funny and horrifying, faithful reader Dub Not Dubya sent me this picture of a blobfish, which really more accurately should be called a Ziggyfish.

Spider-Man, 8/23/07

So, after robbing a bank, the Shocker is literally just standing around patiently surrounded by piles of money, waiting for the press to arrive, putting his fists on his hips so as to look as confidently villainous as he can once the cameras capture him. Of course, the press consists of erstwhile lovers J. Jonah Jameson and whatshername, the Romulan chick who now has a crush on Spider-Man; any supervillany is sure to be outshone by their squabbling. The only way Spider-Man can find out about all this is if he does the one thing most ingrained in his nature, but which he has sworn not to do: turn on the television. I think it’s safe to say that Spider-Man has finally given up and embraced camp.

Luann, 8/23/07

Oh, I do not like the look on TJ’s face in panel three. It’s one of discomfort, just starting to edge into outright pain. Is there a sharp, broken spring burrowing into someplace tender? Has Brad not actually sat in the chair? Did he make TJ his first test subject in an act of passive-aggressive revenge for the years the Teej has spent undermining his life?

Actually, now that I look at it again, it could just be flat-out rage. If there’s one thing TJ hates, it’s uncomfortable chairs. Don’t you dare offer him anything less than cushy … if you know what’s good for you.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/23/07

Desperate to make Elizabeth stop talking about Anthony — as any decent, normal person would be — Candace finally just changes the subject to herself in panel four.

The whole “Thérèse is an awful bitch” storyline is somewhat undermined by the fact that Anthony does, in fact, look like a fool in panel two. Nice jams, dude! Was 2003 the equivalent of 1988 in metric Canadian years?

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Apartment 3-G, 8/20/07

WOO-HOO! NERD FIGHT! NERD FIGHT! NERD FIGHT FOR TOMMIE’S LOOOOOVVVVE!

Last we saw Gary Walker, he was some kind of ancillary member of Gina’s Required-By-Court Order-To Remain-A-Minimum-Of-500-Yards-Off-Broadway theater company … the bookkeeper or something? I forget, and Lord knows I’m not looking it up. He mooned mopily after Tommie as she made out with the pencil-mustached director of the play. His hair, it almost goes without saying at this point, was the same sandy hue as Dr. Whatshisbutt, but apparently he’s dipped into the Miss Clairol Sassy and Brassy in a desperate attempt to win Tommie’s heart.

I know that failing New York theater companies aren’t professional, and that their members almost always have real jobs, but I’m suspicious of Gary’s professional geek credentials. (His personal geek credentials are in the clear, obviously.) “Solution package” just doesn’t ring true to me, and believe me, I have to read more of this crap than the average mind can comfortably encompass. “Solution” should be the noun for whatever horrible mass of code he’s going to foist on the hospital’s hapless IT department, modified by one or more of the following: “enterprise-class,” “HIPAA-compliant,” “open standards-friendly,” “Web services-ready,” or “XML-based.” I can only assume that Gary isn’t a systems engineer at all, but is merely willing to type aimlessly on a laptop he’s brought into the hospital for a chance to hover passive-aggressively in the vicinity of the boring object of his desire. Tommie’s quizzical look in the second panel seems to say, “Wait a minute — I’m going to be fought over by these two? I’m sorry, even I don’t find that remotely believable.”

Luann, 8/20/07

Now, the question of “What aspect of TJ’s outfit is the most jaw-droppingly ludicrous?” is one that we can all have a good time debating. Is it his elevator heels? His extra-high-waisted pants? The stripy sweater vest? The fact that Brad non-ironically calls it “stylin'”? The best part is that there are no wrong answers. Still, I’m holding out hope that what appears to be a sort of weirdly dark set of buttons below the collar is actually a tie, of either the bolo or the skinny ’80s variety. Either way, this ensemble is surely an early Labor Day present to each and every one of us.

By the way, I was in the Gap on Saturday and there was an entire rack of black sweater vests in the menswear section. Could Al Scaduto have more control over fashion choices than any of us realize?

For Better Or For Worse, 8/20/07

OH SNAP LIZ CANDACE JUST CALLED YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND FRIENDSHIP PARTNER GARBAGE! By uttering the phrase “angelic little Francie,” Candace cements her place as one of the few remaining likable characters in the strip.

Liz’s word balloon is already taking up a lot of panel four, so there probably wasn’t room to improve its accuracy by putting “who hit on me while he was still married to her” after “wonderful man” and “whom she was passive-aggressively browbeat into having” after “beautiful daughter.” I’m very excited about Liz’s boast that she can “handle” Thérèse. I sure hope she gets a chance to prove herself in physical combat — not because I get off on seeing the ladies fight with each other, but because Thérèse would almost certainly win any such altercation in short order.

Blondie, 8/20/07

I have to admit that I actually laughed at Blondie today. Dagwood’s eating patterns — frenzied bursts of feeding activity in which massive caloric intake occurs in a short period of time, followed by hours and hours of napping — match up pretty well with those of typical large carnivores, so the nature-documentary vibe of this strip, with a feral, hungry Dagwood roaming the corridors of Dithers Enterprises, works pretty well. The question is, who is the weakest member of this herd, destined to be culled by Dagwood’s razor-sharp teeth?

Marvin, 8/20/07

I’ve never raised an infant, so maybe I just don’t know, but someone who has raised an infant, help me out here: Surely it’s not socially acceptable to come into work covered in vomit, just because that vomit came out of someone too young to feed himself? And you wouldn’t relay this information without shame with a sort of heavy-lidded numbness to whoever might ask? Is this what casual Friday has wrought?

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For Better Or For Worse, 8/13/07

Look, I love bacon cheeseburgers. And I adore tuna casserole. And my diet is pretty dodgy, and errs in the direction of the greasy, as those two previous declarations would indicate. And even I’m kind of appalled by today’s FBOFW. It never really occurred to me that these would be two great tastes that go great together, possibly because of some residual instinct of self-preservation. And if I did choose to combine these artery-clogging treats in a single meal, I probably wouldn’t make burgers that were literally the size of dinner plates. I don’t want to judge. But I guess that’s what I’m doing.

You’ll note that despite Ellie’s good mood, there’s a tear running down her cheek in panel two. My guess is that her circulatory system is weeping in anticipation of its coming suffering. Also, sadder than any other aspect of this paean to cholesterol is the look of pure unmediated joy on John’s face in the final panel. It’s as if he’s finally discovered a reason to live again — one that will kill him in short order, ironically.

One Big Happy, 8/13/07

OBH’s mom is caught in a moment of repose in panel one. And by “repose”, I mean “utterly soul-sapped exhaustion,” obviously. The look on her face and her body language pretty much say, “Please, God, take me now so I never have to deal with my children’s ADHD-driven antics again.” Thus, the dire violence on tap in panel four is, if still probably against the law, at least well set up in the strip’s narrative.

Apartment 3-G, 8/13/07

Yesterday’s encounter between Alan and Jones the beatnik, in which the latter opined that he “might have just what you want”, followed by today’s episode, in which Alan claims to have been “riding high” and now needs to start making “amends”, all combine to imply one thing: we’re going to get an “Alan the recovering substance abuser” storyline written entirely in scarcely veiled code and innuendo, apparently to shield the bluehairs who fainted in droves during Mary Worth’s Tommy the Tweaker storyline. Look for Alan to have a meaningful conversation with Lu Ann in which he claims to have “thrown out all of his ‘junk'” and to be “no longer interested in ‘riding the white lion,'” winking at her all the while, then saying “wink” aloud to reinforce his point.

Family Circus, 8/13/07

The way Grandma is nervously fidgeting with her collar implies that Dolly is more of a threat than her short stature and low IQ would suggest. “People who don’t hang up all of my art get the CORNFIELD!”

Luann, 8/13/07

“Um, yeah! Totally different reasons! Ha ha ha ha ha!” [45 seconds of increasingly uncomfortable silence]

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Gil Thorp, 7/11/07

Ha ha! Oh, man, the Gil Thorp summer hijinks are getting started even more quickly than I could have hoped! I’m totally in love with Gail Martin, the “rock and roll Carole King,” as she was called yesterday; truly, nothing shouts “rock and roll” like a collared shirt and a long braid that you clutch dramatically to your chest while you belt out your non-hits and your banjo player grooves behind you. This looks exactly like the kind of scene where a brawl would break out, and I look forward to tomorrow’s weirdly proportioned and strangely angled fisticuffs. Since Kelly has a troubled past with guys with rage issues, this should provide excellent fuel for one of the eleven rapidly crosscut dramas that will be entertaining us until football practice starts up again.

Apartment 3-G, 7/11/07

Ruby’s dialogue says “funny Texan with more realistic ideals of beauty than these supposedly sophisticated New York City girls,” but her solemn expression in panel three, along with Tommie and Margo’s panicked exchange of glances, says “violent feederism.” In two weeks, look for the two of them to be tied to their chairs, their faces smeared with tangy barbecue sauce, begging for mercy, as Ruby says, “Nuh-uh, Maggie, you still only got one chin!”

Ziggy, 7/11/07

If you thought that the sight of a desperate, insane, bald dwarf with no pants jabbering about the dishonesty of inanimate objects while thrusting a fifteen-year-old household appliance at bemused service worker wouldn’t be funny, well, today’s Ziggy is here to be prove you wrong. I actually laughed aloud at this. Ziggy may continue to exist, as far as I’m concerned.

As I look at it more, I’m sort of hypnotized by the text in Ziggy’s word balloon. The symmetry between the sentence-initial “i” (lowercase, in defiance of all known typographical conventions) and the final exclamation mark, makes it look like he’s actually shouting “T lies!” in Spanish. Which, for my money, is even funnier.

Luann, 7/11/07

I’m only marginally less sick of Brad-Toni than I am of Curtis-Michelle, but this sequence is growing on me. If Toni ends up running off with uberskeeze TJ because of his cooking (or “cooking”) skills, I will be willing to forgive a lot that’s happened in the last few years.

Dick Tracy, 7/11/07

It just wouldn’t be Dick Tracy if the payoff didn’t include somebody writhing around in pain. This isn’t the optimistic fantasy land of Mark Trail; those eyes aren’t growing back.

Family Circus, 7/11/07

Hmm, what’s the most alarming part of this? Yeah, I’m going to have to say that it’s Big Daddy Keane’s little smile.

Gasoline Alley, 7/11/07

Gasoline Alley: the one comic strip that isn’t afraid to show you how the system is stacked against the white man.

Spider-Man, 7/11/07

In a strip that brought us such epic battles as Dr. Octopus vs. his television, Spidey vs. a bowl-hatted butler, Spidey vs. his own outdated ideas of economics and gender, and, of course Spidey vs. a brick, today’s struggle between J. Jonah Jameson and Larry King may represent a dramatic zenith.

And, finally, I’m sure sexy toast-eating is somebody’s fetish, so:

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/11/07

Go to town, perverts!

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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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Archie, 5/8/07

From today’s comments, I’m glad to see that the bulk of you share my horror at the Archie-Joke-Generating-Laugh-Unit 3000’s attempt to understand the human soul. The AJGLU 3000, having been programmed with the main motivations for everyone in Riverdale, apparently believes that it would be amusing to see these three running eternally after their hearts’ desires (Jughead: a White Castle slider; Reggie: a dollar sign written on a piece of paper; Archie: Betty’s severed head), never getting closer, their numb faces reflecting their dawning awareness of the Sisyphean nature of their task.

One sometimes wonders to what degree human beings intervene in the AJGLU 3000’s workflow. On the one hand, Coach No-Name, despite his boasts about the track team’s prowess, has a thousand-mile stare in panel two; clearly he knows just what an awful thing he’s done to his innocent charges, and expects retribution, either from a merciful God or in a lawsuit for emotional distress. That moment of self-awareness could never have come from a computer. On the other hand, if people edited this strip, you think they’d have noticed that all three runners have had their left arms hacked off, or that Archie is about to stomp on a puppy.

Gil Thorp, 5/8/07

Hey, does that middle panel of inscrutably drawn young women staring silently confuse you and creep you out as much as it does me? You’re actually supposed to be seeing things through Branden’s eyes as her attempt to rally her teammates into a world of harmony and goodness flops terribly. You’ll note that the two girls the back of whose heads you can see in panel one are facing forward in panel two — Paris, who God only knows why I remember her name, and stripy-tank-top-girl, who I think might be the nosey newspaper reporter maybe? And then there are some blondes. Anyway, even to get this far into understanding what’s going on, you have to have read this damn thing every day and take a minute or two to connect the dots, which means that only I and twelve other people in America have done so. The artists would be better off making all of their panels look like panel two: wordless collections of random people staring at you with dead eyes.

Speaking of dead eyes, Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp is horning into Funky Winkerbean territory, waiting to hear back on the results of some chronic and inspiring illness that she’s been so busy dealing with that she can’t beat some sense into her feuding softball team. Evidentially she doesn’t want to hear what the doctor has to say, as she’s put the earpiece of her phone outside her hair and halfway back her skull.

Luann, 5/8/07

I don’t want to say that Luann’s plots should feature explicit, hardcore, toon-on-toon sex, but … wait, do I want to say that? No, no, I don’t. But I do want them to stop acting like the characters are screwing or fooling around or kissing or having meaningful non-platonic relationships when they so clearly are not. If you had seen this strip out of context, you’d assume that Tiffany had come down to the fire station and hurled herself at Brad, and that they had gotten it on in the back of the ambulance, or at least made out for a while. Instead, what actually happened is that she ran her fingers up his tie and made several double entendres. The end. And now, Luann is going to freak. Because she’s in the Taliban or something and Tiffany has polluted her brother with her harlot fingers. It makes no God damned sense at all.

Also, Brad made some reference to previously having a girlfriend, by which he could only be referring to his totally pretend not-relationship with Toni Daytona. Which means that Brad has no idea what a “girlfriend” actually is, which I do find kind of plausible, now that I think about it.

On a different subject, many of you cruelly mocked recent maybe-widow and smooth corporate operator Heather Avery for having a pig nose in today’s Rex Morgan, M.D. But faithful reader bobbaloo (aka bob byrd) took a more charitable view: he thinks her nose just became detached from its moorings and accidentally flipped upside-down. Behold his correction! (The original is on the right.)

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Pluggers, 4/12/07

In order to avoid projecting an image of snobbery, I’ll pass over the central point of today’s Pluggers to say … oh, God, no, I can’t. FOR PETE’S SAKE I JUST FOUND THREE JEWELRY BOXES ONLINE FOR UNDER TEN DOLLARS IN LESS THAN THIRTY SECONDS OF SEARCHING! EVEN CHEAPER ONES ARE AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL SALVATION ARMY OR YARD SALE! IF YOU CAN AFFORD JEWELRY, YOU CAN AFFORD A REAL JEWELRY BOX! CHRIST!

Ahem. Moving on, if we really needed to depict a plugger making a show of her frugality by using an egg carton as a jewelry box, couldn’t the she-plugger called to duty have been the kangaroo-lady or the dog-lady or a lady of some species that doesn’t, you know, LAY FREAKIN’ EGGS? Because when I first saw this cartoon, I thought the caption was going to be “A plugger makes jewelry from the bones of her children.”

Luann, 4/12/07

I’m an only child, which, for the record, is awesome, as I never had to learn how to “share” or any of that crap. However, it means that I don’t really have an instinctual feel for how brother-sister relationships work. But I’m pretty sure that no brother has ever boasted to his sister about the sexual playground that is his enormous king-sized bed. Plus, I’m pretty sure that nobody ever has boasted to anyone about their “super quilted pillowtop”, whatever the hell that is. Dude, if you’re going to boast about your bed’s comfort features, trust me: it’s all about the thread count on the sheets. Though that’s really more an “impress them while they’re there” feature than a “get them in there” feature. You shouldn’t be bragging about it. Especially not to your sister. Ew.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/1/07

Now, what’s this I hear about some of you actually complaining about this apparent climax to the current Rex Morgan, M.D., storyline? Are you people insane? What better way to nicely encapsulate the utter incompetence of everybody bipedal in this strip — health care professionals, cops, drug dealers and all — than to have the main villain — who, let me remind you, is (or until recently was) armed, like, with a gun — cowering and begging for mercy before some kind of spaniel mix who can’t weigh more than, what, forty pounds? Abbey the Wonderdog is awesome. I look forward to the next plot, where she successfully begins second-guessing Rex and June’s medical diagnoses. “Well, it’s probably flu, but — what’s that, girl? You think I should screen for pneumonia? Will do!”

Luann, 3/1/07

Don’t let the fact that I managed to snag such a lovely and charming wife fool you: in my single days, I wasn’t always 100 percent sure on just what it is the girls dug. Thus, rather than make assumptions, I’d like to pose a question to the ladies out there of appropriate persuasion and age range to date, if not Brad, then someone vaguely Brad-like. If some guy you had recently started seeing invited you over to his swingin’ bachelor pad/gingerbread house, and you walked into the living room and it was painted entirely black, which of the following would be closer to the first thing that would come to your mind?

• “Wow, an all-black living room! This is pretty cool! I dig this! I’m totally going to have sex with him!”
• “OH MY GOD HE’S BROUGHT ME INTO HIS RITUAL SACRIFICE CHAMBER GET ME OUT OF HERE HELP HELP HELP”

Dick Tracy, 3/1/07

I’m just putting this up here as a helpful reminder so that if anyone ever asks you, “Say, when did Dick Tracy stop being a reliably odd chestnut and start being a horrifying acid trip,” you can say, without hesitation, “March 1, 2007.”

Pluggers, 3/1/07

So … Cathy’s a plugger?

They’ll Do It Every Time, 3/1/07

“You sire a child, and for eighteen years they expect you to pay attention to them when you’d rather be watching television. Then they finally get out of your hair, but … wha-a-a-a-a? Now they have kids that you’re supposed to feel warmly towards! OH YEAH!”

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Luann, 2/9/07

So, to keep you updated, Bernice’s long-lost brother has returned from the army, and Luann has been one step away from flinging her panties at him ever since, and Brad has, disturbingly — very, very disturbingly — been simmering in a jealous snit. Today, Luann and Bernice speculate that Ben’s military skills translate easily to the bowling alley, which means that either they or I really don’t understand exactly what goes on in the armed forces. I should point out that I was in a bowling league for my entire adolescence (I even had a ball with my name on it!) but teenage girls singularly failed to hurl themselves at me in recognition of my mad bowling skills. Of course, I wasn’t some sort of black ops army dude who looked like Jared from the Subway ads, either.

Gil Thorp, 2/9/07

Man, I’m loving Coach Thorp’s gnomic response to Marty Moon’s badgering in panel two. “We think about a lot of things”? Positively Rumsfeldian. In fact, his face is looking a little like the former defense secretary in that panel, as well; maybe this is Rumsfeld’s new gig. Sure, it’s a step down, but work is work. “You go into the game against Central with the point guard you have, not the point guard you might want.”

Funky Winkerbean, 2/9/07

The hangdog, eye-bagged expression on the face of Darrin’s Mopey Friend Whose Name I Forget pretty much perfectly encapsulates the black hole of bleakness that is Funky Winkerbean. Why exactly does he look like that? Has he been repeatedly punched in the face by bullies? Is he in constant pain because of his inoperable bone cancer? Does he cry himself to sleep every night because his uncle has been molesting him for years? Pretty much any of these possibilities would fit right into this strip.

So, what horrifying tale will the password post-it set into motion? My guess: Someone sneaks in the newspaper office, uses said password to log on, then downloads vast reams of child porn; Darrin’s Mopey Friend is blamed, hijinks ensue.

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Well, Monday was one of those days, with this site unaccountably down for a few hours, followed by the unavailability of the King Features Web site. Since King Features is the origin of most of the color comics we follow here, including Mary Worth, Funky Winkerbean, Mark Trail, Judge Parker, Apartment 3G, and Rex Morgan, M.D., well, you can see the problem!

I’ll post a note here when I hear that King (and therefore the Chron) is back up, although some alert reader is sure to post the news in the comments before then.

Update 1/30/07 11:15 EST – King Features and Chron back up.
Many, many thanks to faithful readers gh and willethompson for scanning and sending MW, FW, RMMD and JP backups, but it appears the crisis has passed.

Until then, I have a confession to make:

Diesel Sweeties, 1/30/07

Robots terrify me. I’m convinced NASA made a big mistake sending them to Mars, and I bet they wouldn’t tell us about Elvis even if they found him. I felt a lot better about Darth Vader when I figured out there was a guy inside. I have a Roomba, but I keep an eye on it, and unplug it at night.

So I’m really ambivalent about Diesel Sweeties. It’s pretty smart about human/machine relationships, the IM-style graphics give it a distinctive look and can be surprisingly expressive, and I love love love the nonspatial references (like the Sweden flag here) that just pop in and out when they’re needed. On the other hand, the human characters are really shallow and there are too many of them – it’s like they’re in tryouts. The human/human relationship strips fall really flat. And, well, robots are evil. Everybody knows that.

Doonesbury, 1/30/07

In panel one, we have a robot; in panel three, Alex Doonesbury. If you’re looking to strike up a relationship of any kind, pick the robot. Alex is a self-obsessed, whiny, manipulative, spoiled, . . . well, I could go on and on. She is a twenty-four carat pain in the ass, even though she’s surrounded by some of the most engaging characters in all of comics. But she’s even though she’s completely unlikeable, she’s entertaining. See, Lynn? See? That’s how it’s done!

Luann, 1/30/07

This has nothing at all to do with technology, but gah. GAH! How many times will we have to sit through this same damn storyline? Aaron f’n Hill, Bernice’s wheelchair guy, Toni f’n Daytona, fill in the f’n blank. Now I like Greg Evans’ work! He draws cartoon people – particularly girls – better than almost anybody around, and his faces are expressive (compare with Foob’s “I have been hit with a baseball bat” universal reaction shot). But the guy can’t plot for stink. Luann, I’ve got sad, sad news for you. You’re marrying Gunther.