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Crankshaft, 7/20/09

Oh ho. Oh HO HO HO. Remember a few years ago, when beloved comic strip Funky Winkerbean killed off one of its main characters and then leapt pell-mell a decade into the future (of internal narrative space, not of absolute time)? Of course you do, because you’re all comics obsessives, but even if you weren’t, chances are you might have heard of it because there was actual coverage of this event by the legitimate media. And here today, in Funkyverse sister strip Crankshaft, we appear to have the exact same chronological discontinuity happening, which, as near as the Google can tell, has been mentioned exactly nowhere. Ha ha, Crankshaft, nobody likes you, just like nobody likes your title character!

You’ll forgive me for chortling just a little at the sight of Crankshaft’s slumped, broken form slouching semi-consciously in a wheelchair, kept alive by machines and underpaid but still perky nurse’s aides. Normally I’d only have the deepest sympathy for someone whose body and mind have been ravaged by time until they’re only a shell of their former self, but since Crankshaft is (a) a fictional character and (b) a colossal dick, I’m not feeling too guilty about my terrible glee.

Anyway, in the absence of any sort of Big Event-style coverage, I’m guessing that this is a temporary thing, a brief glimpse into the ’Shaft’s terrible future — or, if the middle panel is any indication, his future and his past, like Slaughterhouse Five with less firebombing and more groan-inducing puns. Eventually we’ll settle back on the present, in which Crankshaft is old and cranky but not senile or wheelchair-ridden. The journey will have made him more sympathetic to us, right up to the first time that he opens his mouth.

Gil Thorp, 7/20/09

Wait, are we sure that Shep Trumbo isn’t behind this? Because the sinister message on that baseball appears to be written in text-speak, and if there’s one thing I remember about the Shep Trumbo storyline despite my best efforts to purge it from my memory, it’s that it involved texting in some way. (Though I guess a full-on text-stalker-ball would read “U O M3.”)

Anyway, I just thought of someone else from the past who could be sinisterly stalking Gil: Brent Raptor! Or, better yet, Brent Raptor’s mom! Brent was a pudgy white kid who played baseball for Gil a few years ago and loved the rap music, thus earning the nickname “Rap-Dog,” which was probably meant to be insulting and/or ironic but he adopted it because it was the only affection anyone ever showed him. Brent’s life was made a living hell by his trashy, overbearing mother, out from under whose thumb Gil tried very hard to extract Brent, eventually succeeding by arranging for her to take a trip to Phoenix (really!). Anyway, since obviously nobody has ever done anything in return for a trip to Phoenix, I’m guessing Gil made a dark, secret promise to Mrs. Raptor, and now she’s come to collect … in blood. Or in off-brand corn chips and menthol cigarettes, which would seem more her style.

Mark Trail, 7/20/09

Jack Elrod knew he’d come under fire from religious and cultural conservatives for his latest work, Virgin Mar(k/y): Pieta. Fortunately, his editors at the syndicate knew that the newspaper comics were the last venue where uncompromising art like this could be showcased, and published it without fear of the consequences.

Archie, 7/20/09

The funniest thing about this Archie — other than Reggie getting punched in the face, obviously — is the lava lamp decorating the floor of Archie’s makeshift ashram in the first panel. Because meditation = the ’70s = lava lamps, obviously! Ha ha, the AJGLU 3000 has no idea what year it is.

Slylock Fox, 7/20/09

More proof that Shady Shrew is an unlovable loser: as his yellow bandana indicates, he was considered insufficiently cool to join either the Bloods or the Crips, and instead had to affiliate himself with a lesser gang, the “7th Avenue Insectivore Crew.”

Beetle Bailey, 7/20/09

Oh, Beetle, we know you yearn for Sarge’s abusive attentions, but you should really try being at least a little subtle about it.

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Spider-Man, 6/25/09

Actual super-hero combat has been taking place over the last few days in Spider-Man! Since it doesn’t feature the strip’s core storytelling competencies (whining, television watching, costume forgetting) it hasn’t really held much appeal for me, but I have to say appreciate the vague sexual awkwardness that underlies the slapstick here. It’s like somebody made a porno version of The X-Men Meet The Three Stooges.

Archie, 6/25/09

It appears that Archie and Jughead will be fired from one job after another this summer; already their trail of failure has led them to the ultimate shame for any middle-class suburban teenager: actual physical labor. Sadly, they’ll never have a chance to learn the true dignity that comes from working the soil; instead, they’ll inevitably be sent packing once Jughead leaps onto that ice cream truck like a feral animal, tearing it to pieces and devouring anything even vaguely edible within, including the driver.

Family Circus, 6/25/09

“So whatever happy-time pills you gave to your brother to make him look so blissed out, you’d better share ’em, if you know what’s good for you.”

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Archie, 6/23/09

Here is a comedy tip for you: humor grounded in the specific is always funnier and more vivid than jokes about vague, abstract nouns. Thus, I would argue that the lame pun for which this strip is the ostensible vehicle is redeemed to a certain extent by the amusing notion that Archie, Jughead, and Nameless Car Pool Denizen #3 are not just going to some random teenage job, but have actually taken up careers as carnies, for some reason. More delightful still is the insane tableau in the second panel: Archie’s boss has clearly been beaten down by the realities of life as a wrangler of sullen teenagers and burnouts, buyer of giant stuffed pandas and a fryer grease in bulk, and briber of ride safety inspectors, but he still has enough of his belief that amusement park management might be insanely lucrative (no doubt developed over years of playing Roller Coaster Tycoon) that he decided to wear his tie covered with dollar signs to work. No doubt he’ll lose that faith altogether when he turns around to see one his fursuit characters, a giant squirrel thing not currently trademarked by any major media conglomerate, attempting to capture and kill a child, the crazed eyes of a serial killer gleaming madly out of the rodent’s grinning mouth.

Mark Trail, 6/23/09

Actually, Mark didn’t say anything of the kind, Cherry, as his only comments about the appearance and attractiveness of mammals involves the phrase “healthy, shiny coat.” Your transparent jealousy and shameless smoochery may in fact backfire, as the thing he most likes about country girls is that they find the intermittent sexual relations that are apparently a required aspect of marriage just as terrifying and unpleasant as he does.

Apartment 3-G, 6/23/09

All important information in this storyline is apparently going to be conveyed by having characters thrust newspapers at one another, so you may wonder why the voyage to India’s most blandly decorated hotel was even necessary at all. Obviously, though, without this trip we wouldn’t be graced with the hilariously offensive series of Margoisms that we’re going to get. “Dad, there are cows in the street! Everybody here is dirty, and nobody is white! They don’t take American money! The Indian food here is terrible!”

Beetle Bailey, 6/23/09

This is honestly one of the saddest and most poignant Beetle Baileys ever. It should probably be on the front page of the Servicemembers Legal Defense Network home page.