Archive: Apartment 3-G

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Gil Thorp, 5/5/08

Well well well, look who’s turned out to be the Mudlarks’ chief nativist! It’s Andrew Gregory, who, I feel obliged to point out, wasn’t such a law-and-order type back when he had a half-drunk Marty Moon pretending to be his father for the benefit of a state social worker. Did Marty’s attempt to teach him the importance of sticking it to the man come to naught? I guess in the A-Train’s hierarchy of faceless, dysfunctional government bureaucracies, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement gets an “honor and obey”, while Social Services rates a “go ahead and mess around with.”

I’m hoping that Marty, flush with his victory in the battle to help underaged Andrew half-competently raise his young siblings without interference from the government, decides to take on Homeland Security for Elmer’s sake. I’m imagining him wearing a huge sombrero and a poncho and spouting quasi-Spanish gibberish like “No es bueno!” and “No mas!” and “Hasta la vista, baby!” It won’t help Elmer at all, of course, but it’ll be hilarious.

Family Circus, 5/5/08

Wow, the Keane Kompound has the most boring wall calendar ever. I guess when your strict religious beliefs regard any depiction of humans, animals, or plants as sin against the Creator, all you’ve got do to entertain yourself is make up sad little stories about the names of the months.

I also question the wisdom of giving a long, pointy stick to a six-year-old, or however old Dolly is supposed to be. At least she’ll probably use it against others, not herself; if Jeffy were wielding it, it’d be buried in his eye in no time.

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 5/5/08

For reasons that I can’t quite verbalize, and hopefully don’t have to, Alan’s thought-balloon whinge in today’s Apartment 3-G was hands-down the funniest thing in the comics section today.

Spider-Man, 5/5/08

…although “Crime-fighting and the flu don’t mix” was a close second. In other developments, we learn that, in his BDSM relationship with his wife, Peter is a bottom. Nobody is surprised.

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Slylock Fox, 5/4/08

Hey, look, everybody! Cassanda Cat’s back up to her naughty tricks again! The crimes perpetrated in Slylock Fox are generally pretty small-time, but stealing a jar full of pennies from a rabbit seems particularly petty, the sort of thing one might do just to mess with someone, or perhaps to attract the attention of a certain law enforcement officer. The fact that she’s just dumping her ill-gotten gains into a well brings her contempt for the stolen property into nice focus.

(And hey! Don’t forget that you can buy Cassandra Cat stuff from the Comics Curmudgeon store!)

I also think the picture up top, with the cat and dog tending the poor toothachy kid, is very sweet. (Note: Domestic pets are not a substitute for professional dental care.)

Panel from Luann, 5/4/08

Today we learn that Luann’s dad has the same sweet little pet nickname for her mom that the British had for the Germans during World War I. I’m sure when they get amorous, she puts on one of those helmets with the big spikes on top and he begs her to “execute the Schlieffen Plan,” if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/4/08

“Hello, we’re the creative team behind Rex Morgan, M.D.! It’s come to our attention that some of you find action-packed plots about blackmail, escaped prisoners, and flesh-eating bacteria to be ‘boring’! Well, what if you were able to enjoy those same plots … but they involved sexy people in their underwear? America, get ready for Rex Morgan, M.N.! The ‘M.N.’ stands for ‘mostly naked!'”

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 5/4/08

Lately, the Sunday Apartment 3-G strips have been even more obvious rehashes of the previous week than usual, leaving me virtually no reason to ever comment on them. This panel from today’s installment caught my eye, however, when you consider its parallel from Saturday’s strip:

It’s very sad that a clean-living young man such as myself has to lecture the comics industry on this point, but: DRUG LINGO IS NOT INTERCHANGEABLE. Also, it has evolved somewhat since 1953. Please do a minimum amount of Internet research before attempting to deploy “street” talk in your comic. You’ll be glad you did.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/4/08

Ha! It’s funny because Michael hates his children, and hopes that if he ignores them they’ll go away! The second and third panels of the second row are particularly instructive; I defy you to find anyone, even among touch-typists, who types with their eyes closed. He’s obviously just hammering away at the keyboard churning out nonsense to drown out his daughter’s desperate pleas for attention.

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Phantom, 5/3/08

Could the JUNGLE PATROL’s longstanding no-yucky-girls-allowed policy have been based on sound policy, not mere prejudice? The men of the Jungle Patrol have for centuries cheerfully taken orders without question from a mysterious figure that they never see and who may not even exist; but these two dames have been Jungle Patrolpersons for less than a week and they’re already determined to suss out his identity — not because they find the idea of a faceless, nameless superior officer creepy and weird, of course, but because they want to have sex with him. Kay and Hawa have been yammering on in this vein for several days now, and I’ve been wondering how their tight-knit friendship would survive when the Unknown Commander has to choose only one of them to be his Unknown Commandress, but today we learn that obviously the choice will be based on racial grounds. It’s too bad the real U.C. isn’t Chinese or something, just because it would be fun to watch that blow their minds.

Apartment 3-G, 5/3/08

Thanks to the glory and pageantry of NetFlix, my wife and I tore through all five seasons of The Wire a few months ago, but this Apartment 3-G makes me realize that I still don’t fully understand the economics of the drug trade. Will Jones be pleased when he realizes that Alan is redistributing his dope, happy to move up the ladder from street-level dealer to wholesaler? Or will he conclude that the profits Alan is reaping by selling smack to desperate floozies are rightfully his own, and decide to shoot the hapless artist in the back of the head and leave his body to rot in a vacant somewhere?

The stakes would be much higher if everyone involved weren’t morons. I love Jones’s rapt expression in panel two. “Whoah — that’ll buy a lotta dope! Now where I could I find some … oh, wait, I have some right here! Turns out I don’t need your money after all, Alan.”

Dick Tracy, 5/3/08

Dick Tracy’s contempt for Deformed-Americans has never been more obvious. Hey, Liz, your “knight in shining armor” lost his gun, then stood around aimlessly in that shining armor until somebody else shot the bad guy. Your real savior was Dab Stract, who has the added bonus of not being married (I’m assuming). Go on, plant a wet one his lumpy, malformed cheek. He’s earned it!

Gasoline Alley, 5/3/08

His two-timing having been revealed to the congregation, Sturdivant is about to be dragged out of the church by the bride’s hobo relatives and stabbed to death, or possibly sodomized. Score another one for good ol’ fashioned frontier justice!