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Judge Parker, 1/12/08

At last, the brownies’ “special” nature is explicitly acknowledged! Just what mind-expanding substance makes them “special” (complete with quotes) will no doubt be revealed in due time, which, since this is Judge Parker, means maybe by September. We know it’s good stuff, though, because in panel three Elvira appears to be so funky with ganja that she’s sporting visible odor lines, or perhaps her chemically altered brain is sending her down some kind of nightmare trip that’s beginning with her face melting and dissolving into the air. Normally I’d complain about the conversational discontinuity here — Elvira’s request that Biff respect neighborly etiquette and/or local general aviation regulations has little to do with her attempt to “turn on” the local squares — but these people are clearly so very high that we can’t expect them to make much sense. I’m looking forward to weeks of groovy psychedelia, Judge Parker style, which is to say that it will be slow, confusing, and ultimately frustrating, but there will be cleavage along the way.

Apartment 3-G, 1/12/08

The essential perversity of my entire blogging project can be summed up as follows: for the past four days, Rex Morgan, which I’ve ignored, has involved gunplay and our heroes fleeing into the woods in terror, whereas Apartment 3-G, which I’ve made sure to keep you current on, has involved boring people at a stupid New Year’s party. If you’re not down with that, then maybe the Comics Curmudgeon is not for you, my friend. Anyway, while we wait for Lu Ann’s inevitable discovery of Alan in the bathroom either shooting smack or offering to perform any number of unsavory acts in exchange for said smack, I want you to ponder this: of the 365 Apartment 3-G’s that were published in 2007, were there really not 13 or 14 that could have been combined, or perhaps even eliminated entirely, to so as to allow whatever Big Dramatic Moment is looming for midnight to happen in the strip actually published on December 31?

Family Circus, 1/12/08

Billy! As a native of Buffalo, the Queen City of the Great Lakes, I was doomed from birth to always have an undying affection for and rooting interest in the Buffalo Bills, despite the fact that with each passing year they find a new and exciting way to tear out your heart and stomp on it with their cleat-clad feet. Do not voluntarily pledge your love to them based merely on a coincidental match-up of names (yours being scrawled on your shirt, lest we not get the joke)!

Jeffy! There’s no such thing as the “Buffalo Jeffies”, but you’re a moron and so we expect no better of you. Your stupidity has in fact made you so well known that you don’t need any label on your clothes. Here, have a cookie.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/12/08

I have to say that I’m perturbed and unsettled by the verb tense in the first world balloon in this cartoon. “Did we ever argue like them” rather than “Do we ever” implies a certain temporal distance between the speaking couple and the ones being referenced. It would be understandable if the contentious pair in the background were a younger feller and his wife and the speaker were remarking ruefully on the tempestuous nature of early courtship among fiery rural folk, but the presence of long white beards on both men indicates that they have equal status as elders in this inbred hillbilly community. The only other scenario that makes sense to me is that the foregrounded couple are in fact dead and, like overall-clad semiliterate versions of the icy, reserved angels of Wim Wenders’ 1987 classic Wings of Desire, no longer argue about anything, but merely remark and observe. This would mean that they have been cursed by a vengeful God (who turns out to be some kind of liberal city slicker after all) to haunt the same chaw-stained shanty town where they spent their narrow, miserable lives rather than being permitted to enter the blessed afterlife.

Also perturbing and unsettling: “Honeypot.”

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Family Circus, 11/12/07

Christ almighty, what is the deal with the Keane kids and their asses? Someone needs to explain to little Jeffy the basics of literal and metaphorical human anatomy, pronto, before he starts complaining about a “broken heart,” “offering up his heart” to his first love, “wearing his heart on his sleeve,” and other scenarios that don’t even bear thinking about it.

When I first saw this cartoon, I thought Jeffy and his mom were looking out the window, and that a spontaneous act of Veterans Day (Observed) flag approbation was going on in their front yard. This could have made Jeffy not just stupid but dangerously stupid, as the gathered vets might have thought that he was bringing shame to the flag with his ass-clutching and decided to beat him up. This of course would have been hilarious, especially if some of the really old guys had taken the lead (imagine him being held down by a couple of 73-year-old Korean War vets while an 84-year-old comes at him with the same bayonet he used at Guadalcanal). However, since they’re actually watching the Patriotism Channel on their enormous flat-screen TV, Jeffy is only shaming his household, which is nothing new.

Slylock Fox, 11/12/07

The sight of Slylock dickering with some kind of smallish mammalian taxi driver (a monkey, maybe?) over cab fare while the as-usual moronic bunnies stare on dumbly is probably the funniest thing I’ve seen today. I would say that the taxi driver’s sudden attack of deafness is less “a mystery to be solved” and more “the driver being kind of a dick.” On the other hand, maybe there’s some history here that we’re not privy to. (“How did Murray Monkey know that he should give Slylock the incorrect change? Solution — Because the cheap bastard never tipped on any of his previous trips to the airport, and his picture is taped to the dashboard of every cab in town.”)

I know that Max is clambering into the trunk to get out the comparatively enormous suitcase because he can’t actually reach it from the curb, but I’d like to imagine that Slylock and/or the driver actually made him ride back there for the entire way. “Sorry, Max, no rodents in the car!”

They’ll Do It Every Time, 11/12/07

Who’ll do it every time? Why, Comics Curmudgeon readers, of course! “Donna Normington” is really none other than our own Mountain Momma. I have to say that I’m impressed by her limber nature — I don’t think I could ring the doorbell with my foot while carrying two bags full of groceries! And I hope her hubby appreciates his buck-toothed caricature.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/12/07

Whoa, check out those tiger-striped suspenders on Lem! Hot. HOTT. This is what happens when the International Male catalog starts delivering to Hootin’ Holler.

And finally, I leave you with a stunning find from faithful reader Jym. In his own words:

On October 10, 1987, I encountered what I recognized as the Rosetta Stone of Mark Trail strips. A young motorcycle hooligan had disrupted a teen-themed outdoor adventure with his infernal racket, but we got some inkling that he maybe wasn’t all bad. This strip showed us exactly what he needed to do to reveal himself as a worthy citizen.

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Curtis, 9/29/07

I’ve perversely pleased that Curtis has chosen to take on a topic so very rarely tackled in the comics: that moment in a young man’s life when his raging hormones completely overwhelm his capacity to act in a socially appropriate fashion. In Curtis’ case, he’s taken to “watching” (just watching, sure) degrading reality quasiporn right before dinner time. It’s nothing to be proud of, but we’ve all been there, right fellas? (And probably the ladies too, though I’ll let them speak for themselves.) Anyway, part of every person’s self-pleasuring education involves learning the whens and wheres, and Curtis is quickly finding out that where should probably not be “in the bedroom that you share with your brother in what is probably a none-too-large apartment” and when should definitely not be “in the early evening, when your family is in the next room and could wander in at any moment.” Patience and cunning are required while you still live at home, Curtis. You don’t want to be too obvious about it in such close proximity to your mom, lest you enter Francis territory.

If “family matters” is my new favorite euphemism for sex, then “the ‘times’” is clearly my new favorite euphemism for puberty. And I do wonder if Curtis has finally gotten his hands on the fabled “syrup chapter.”

Gil Thorp, 9/30/07

The Mudlarks have started the season 0-2 behind quarterback Tony Casey’s consistently dismal play. Some might say that he just doesn’t have the talent, but I think he’s a bit distracted … distracted by left guard Howard Gourwitz and his wholesome, aw-shucks good looks! While Tony’s the quarterback, in the aftermath of Milford’s defeat it’s Howard who’s making passes. Tony might be disappointed to “forget the Bucket”, at least this week, but I’ll be he’s looking forward to finding out exactly what act of delightful perversity “empty your mom’s fridge” might be code for.

While this romantic drama is going on the foreground, I have to wonder about football player number three in the second panel, who can’t seem to get his helmet off. Did a particularly powerful hit jam it onto his skull so tightly that he’ll be forced to wear it around school indefinitely? Meanwhile, after the inevitable disorienting jump cut, we get the promise of more vandalism-based hijinks to come. Backwards black hat dude is a master of the school-rivalry prank; he’s had a long time to acquire that mastery, since he appears to be 35 or so.

Momma, 9/29/07

It probably shouldn’t come as a surprise that Momma plans to go out like a monarch from ancient Egypt or Sumer. When she dies, her faithful servants will kill and entomb her children with her in her enormous ziggurat so they can wait on her hand and foot in the afterlife. Good God, that smile on her sleeping face creeps the hell out of me.

Archie, 9/29/07

You can when you spend as much time huffing paint as you do, Archie!

Man, the nameless guy at the bottom center of the second panel is the saddest dude in the world. There’s someone who actually cares about his test scores and his academic future. Archie is just idly musing on his incipient dementia to pass the time until he sees something shiny.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/29/07

Yeah, and the younger one kind of looks like he’s on fire. That could explain the odor.

Pluggers, 9/29/07

A plugger’s erectile dysfunction is kind of besides the point, since the rest of his body is in such an advanced state of decay that attempting any kind of sexual encounter would be excruciatingly painful. Plus nobody really wants to have sex with him anyway.