Post Content

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!

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 1/9/07

Apartment 3-G ought by right to serve at least a little bit as an anthropological survey of life and mores of various types in New York City. 99 percent of the time it’s laughably off-target, but every once in a while it hits the mark. Margo is exactly the sort of yuppie wannabe who would make this sort of snarky, dismissive comment about New York’s superabundance of artist wannabes, and has exactly the sort of defective empathy gene to make it in front of her roommate and supposed friend, an aspiring artist.

Lu Ann, meanwhile, has one of the thinnest books of art history I’ve ever seen. Presumably that’s all the information her little brain can hold. I guess that helpful, horny librarian ended up taking her to the children’s section, which may explain why that relationship went nowhere.

Gil Thorp, 1/9/07

Note to Gil Thorp and Comics Curmudgeon readers: Please, please stop making fun of the art in this strip, because you’ll only goad the artists into perpetrating more unsettling attempts at photorealism like panel three here. I guess the point is supposed to be that Helen is making this daring investigative phone call in the dark because that’s, you know, more dramatic.

Rick Bozich is right, by the way: nobody cares about no-bid contracts, especially when the contracts involved are for IT services to a no-account exurban school district, as they are here. Presumably the Man and/or lack of public interest will force the Star to kill Helen’s exposé, and she’ll have to resort to the ultimate indignity: turning to the world of blogs. Her spiritual brother, that crusading journalist known only as HALIBURTON $UCKS, was forced down the same path.

Dennis the Menace, 1/8/09

I think that about fifteen years from now, we’ll find out [INNUENDO-LADEN JOKE ABOUT A “MARGARET SANDWICH” REDACTED DUE TO EXTREMELY POOR TASTE] hey, is Dennis drinking Metamucil?

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 1/3/07

So, in case you weren’t paying attention, Eric Mills broke Margo’s heart by jetting out of town mysteriously, then just as suddenly set it aflame again by showing up on Apartment 3-G’s doorstep on Christmas in a particularly pointless bit of plotting whiplash. Margo must be getting inured to the pleasures of hot monkey sex romance and such, though, because it isn’t having the same softening effect on her personality as it did a few weeks ago. I love her completely pointless outrage in panel one. “Mr. Gibbs? How dare he have a WASPy, monosyllabic last name!”

Mr. Gibbs has been nothing but avuncular and pleasant to Lu Ann throughout the long Adventure of the Haunted Studio, but that facial expression in panel three pretty much screams, “Hello ladies! Looks like all those hidden cameras I installed throughout this firetrap are about to pay for themselves after all!”

Crankshaft, 1/3/07

You know, today’s Crankshaft is a good example of the strip’s subtle but fierce misanthropy. Because at first you’re grateful that they switched the expression around and didn’t actually show you the mangled corpse of a deer embedded into the hood of this car, but then you realize that he’s implying that somewhere there’s a terribly injured animal running around, with a huge chunk of metal and glass and plastic hanging out of a bloody wound in its side … well, Crankshaft is kind of mean-spirited, is what I’m trying to say.

Mary Worth, 1/3/07

Is this the bitchiest Mary Worth ever? “Yeah, Agent Orange, terribly moved, blah blah blah … but what about MEEEEEEEE????? What about MY NEEDS????”

Who is Mary talking to, exactly? Yesterday’s omniscient narration box noted only that she was calling “Cambodia.” Perhaps she was connected directly to King Norodom Sihamoni, who, being a constitutional monarch, has little better to do with his time than to take phone calls from agitated biddies.

Slylock Fox, 1/3/07

I’m not sure what’s funnier: The cheery, innocent look on the face of the megamagnet-wielding security goon, or the expression of sheer, heart-stopping terror on the face of our innocent traveller — perhaps literally heart-stopping, as his pacemaker slams into his sternum, drawn inexorably by this fiendish device. If I had to guess about the origin of this little drama, I’d wager that a certain cartoonist had his precious collection of gels and liquids confiscated by some jackbooted thug while he was traveling over the Thanksgiving holiday. Well, you crossed the wrong gel aficionado, Mr. TSA Man! I bet you felt pretty foolish when you opened up the paper and found that you had been named and shamed in today’s Slylock Fox!

One Big Happy, 1/3/07

The countdown to Ruthie’s inevitable stabbing frenzy and subsequent trip to juvie begins … now.