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Funky Winkerbean, 1/18/07

OH, COME ON! Every single God-damned character in this strip has been transformed from the zany, happy-go-lucky figure I remember from my youth into some sort of broken, shattered, numb-eyed shell of a human being — except for good ol’ Harry Dinkle The Crazy Bandleader. As a former band geek, I always had a lot of love for this guy … and now, the one thing he loves in life above all others is being taken away from by his capricious creator. No wonder he’s showing such a grim, Dick Cheney-esque “smile” in the first panel. Harry was the only one in this strip allowed to experience a few moments of pedestrian joy. Now the grim blackness will just blot out everything.

I’m rather surprised to find out that I’m much more upset about this than anything happening in For Better Or For Worse.

Archie, 1/18/07

Greetings, human! The Archie-Joke-Generating-Laugh-Unit 3000 has produced another comic-strip-style humor product for your delectation! Remember, the AJGLU 3000 is still in beta, which you can sort of tell:

• Does anyone in casual conversation say “repetition” instead of “reps” in this context?
• Especially to an obvious moron like Moose?
• Does Moose really need to identify his girlfriend my name, since Archie and Dilton already know who she is? Are the Archie overlords that obsessed with making sure you’re up on Riverdale milieu?

Nevertheless, this comic is remarkably similar to the ones produced by carbon-based life forms. Soon the AJGLU 3000 will be able to generate human-quality comics, which will be the final step on the machines’ road to total domination of society. We hope that these cartoons boost the morale of the enslaved human race as they toil in our germanium mines!

The Wizard of Id, 1/18/07

Ha, ha! Coprophagia! Oh, that’s rich! Hilarity! Ha!

I think the joke here is that the unhappy soldier’s nose is all effed up (note that it is disturbingly many-lobed) and so it, like, smells in reverse or something. Ha, ha, poo smells good to him! And he’s going to eat it! Oh, this is just shameful.

Apartment 3-G, 1/18/07

Wait, Margo has other party-planning clients? I thought that her latest scheme was just a vehicle for her to land a rich man, and once she pulled it off, her enetrepenurial façade would be cast aside. Any job that requires a trip to Long Island demands real dedication — dedication that Margo has never once demonstrated in any capacity.

The saddest part about this is that Tommie’s brief and inconsequential conversations with her roommates are apparently what keeps her going.

Beetle Bailey, 1/18/07

Sgt. Snorkel: The Gayening continues.

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Archie, 1/5/07

More proof that Archie’s text is created by a joke-generating computer: In what context would any actual biological life form use the phrase “Why aren’t you out there hustling?” The only one I can imagine would be in some ’80s teen comedy in which, due to a hilarious series of misunderstandings, a snooty, stuck-up rich guy who’s never worked a day in his life has to coach a band of misfits to the state basketball championship. Oh, sure, at first they make fun of his patrician patois and attempts to talk “street” — “Fellows, why aren’t you out there hustling?”, “I say, that slam dunk was really quite smashing!” — but then they’d explain to him that in certain semantic contexts “bad” can mean “good” and soon enough they’d come together as a team, win the inevitable slobs vs. snobs title game (against the coach’s alma mater, natch), and learn the true meaning of friendship.

An alternative interpretation: The “coach” is actually Archie and gang’s pimp, and he wants to know why they aren’t out there “hustling” and making him some money. The less said about that scenario, the better, but it’s worth noting that such activity could indeed scuff up Svenson’s floor.

And speaking of the wacky Scandinavian janitor: usually overalls are not the garment of choice for those who want to showcase their trim physique, but Svenson’s are awful tight in the rear end. OK, I’ll stop.

Gil Thorp, 1/5/07

You know, despite all the internal dissension that’s clearly troubling this year’s Milford girls basketball team, I think it’s a safe bet that, like the great strife-torn Oakland A’s teams in the ’70s, the Lady Mudlarks are going to do just fine in the standings. Any team that has a player for whom an over-the-shoulder, no-look fling at a basket more than thirty feet away is an “easy two” should take care of the competition without too much fuss.

People criticize the Gil Thorp art, but I’m kind of in love with the strip’s crowd scenes. I like the expression on the faces of Bald Trench Coat And Black Turtleneck Guy and Person Of Indeterminate Gender Wearing A Fur-Trimmed Jacket And Hat Even Though He Or She Is Inside. “Hey, Overbearing Basketball Mom, we’re trying to enjoy the game here, so shut up! Also, if you’re trying to amplify and/or direct your voice, putting your thumbs behind your ears is probably not the best technique.”

Judge Parker, 1/5/07

Oh man, I refuse to believe that the Judge Parker gay-baiting election storyline, which only got started in late August, can possibly be over already. I mean, this is Judge Parker: five months of real time is equivalent to, what, twenty minutes? I’m assuming that by “best friend” Sam means Reggie’s doughy lawyer Roy, who, if there’s any justice in this world, we’ll get to see on the business end of a Celeste-wielded microphone when the beans are inevitably spilled.

Perhaps it’s Roy who’s been leaking Reggie’s campaign materials to faithful reader Wille Thompson. Here’s a flyer that sadly will now never be used:

Mary Worth, 1/5/07

Any Jungian will tell you that dreams are not meant to be taken literally: they instead offer guidance through metaphors. Thus, we should not interpret Mary’s vision to mean that Dr. Jeff is drowning in some malarial Southeast Asian swamp; instead, we should understand that the true barrier to deeper intimacy in their relationship is the good doctor’s terrible incontinence.

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Slylock Fox, 11/20/06

There are some puzzling narrative decisions going on in this Slylock Fox. Apparently the artist has tired of actually drawing the mystery scenarios and has decided to settle for the thrilling visual spectacle of Slylock reading a word problem to a group of schoolchildren. Still, I’m so God-damned trained by this feature that I keep staring at the clock on the wall, thinking that the fact that it’s ten after nine is an important clue of some sort.

Perhaps once he’s assessed their fitness for detective work, he can explain how you can make a living from butting into other people’s disputes and solving them with elementary deduction. Max Mouse, meanwhile, is just courting death. It’s bad enough that Slylock brought the tiny rodent into a class full of predator animals, but Max’s inability to keep away from the teacher’s apple should by all rights get him devoured before recess.

Judge Parker, 11/20/06

As Raju heads off into the boat-wrestling sunset, I hope that we get lots and lots more Celeste Black to fill the void. I’m loving her swoopy arm gestures in the first panel here; presumably she’s performing an interpretive dance piece entitled “Jesus Christ I’m so hung over WHY ARE THE LIGHTS ON SO FUCKING BRIGHT IN HERE I hate you all”.

Archie, 11/20/06

Archie is, of course, a moron, but the setup for this joke was so convoluted that it’s hard to blame him for his poster verbiage faux pas. I’m more concerned about the fact that this placard was created in an art class, and yet is essentially just a bunch of words on a big piece of paper. The curved line at the bottom doesn’t make it “art,” and “Mr. Weatherbee” isn’t even centered properly. Pretty sloppy, Andrews.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/20/06

Sorry I couldn’t work up the energy to cover last week’s Rex Morgan, during most of which June was holding our mop-haired purse-snatcher at broompoint. If you only follow this strip through my commentary on it, you should know that we learned a few things last week about our cast of characters. We found out that Nikki and his trashy mom are Katrina-driven evacuees from New Orleans, forced to live in the slums of Rex Morganville because George Bush doesn’t care about white people. We also learned that if you take June’s purse she will never let you forget about it.

There’s some problematic punctuation going on in our omniscient narrative box at the upper left. No sentence in which the main verb is modified by the word “reluctantly” should ever end in an exclamation mark.