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Judge Parker, 1/24/07

Sometimes I like to imagine what would happen if you came from another planet or something and were given a cursory education in the usual sort of comics, with jokes and whatnot, and then you encountered a gem like today’s Judge Parker. Would you stare in horror at the third panel for hours, trying to figure how “You see, I have cancer … and the doctors are not optimistic!” might qualify as one of these “jokes” or “punchlines” you’ve heard about? Would you connect your Interstellar Space Radio to Central Command on Planet Zyvex and say, “Call off our invasion fleet! These Earth humans … they laugh at suffering and death! They find the painful passing of their old ones a source of amusement! Surely they would throw all thoughts of their own safety aside and fearlessly engage even our most deadly trained Sau’dukar Warriors in bloody combat! For Melkar’s sake, turn those ships around!”

It’s not likely, I know, but I’m just saying. Judge Parker may have just saved us all from being forced to dance for the Galactic Emperor Chennux’s amusement until we dropped dead from exhaustion.

Alien invasions aside, the phrase “I’m an old woman and I’m going to die” may be the most depressing ever uttered in a comic strip, and I’m including Funky Winkerbean in that assessment. At least Funky gives you some sort of pun to cut the gloom. In fact, based on that first panel, I’m not convinced that Rachel is still alive at the moment; she looks an awful lot like Norman Bates’ taxidermied mother. Which doesn’t speak well for Abbey’s sanity. Not that anyone with that haircut could truly be called “sane.”

Beetle Bailey, 1/24/07

This Beetle Bailey storyline of barely closeted homosexuality has been winding along like a third-rate Tennessee Williams knockoff for weeks now. First Beetle finally realizes that his attempts at physical intimacy with women are a sham, then starts to subtly acknowledge his abusive relationship with an older man. Today, having finished with his beard, he’s decided to pawn her off on the village idiot.

Miss Buxley, of course, isn’t consulted about her own sex life, because she’s a pretty girl and this is Beetle Bailey, duh.

Luann, 1/24/07

To paraphrase Douglas Adams, the only way this storyline is going to make any sense is if it involves a faulty contraceptive and a time machine.

In case you haven’t been following Luann, our flat-topped adoptee is supposed to be in Iraq. Now, never having been either adopted or in a war, I may not know what I’m talking about, but I think I’d have other things on my mind if I were him.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/24/07

What’s it going to take to revive this painfully tedious storyline? A horribly burned, foul-mouthed, halfwit-criminal-dating meth cook? I for one am ready to take that chance.

Archie, 1/24/07

Yeah, so Jughead wants to eat Archie’s eyes. The look of stunned horror on Veronica’s face in panel two is actually pretty much justified.

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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.