I have to admit that I’m so charmed by Dagwood’s stunningly bizarre parking spot sign that I’m willing to forgive the fact that it completely ignores his long-established carpool. Not only does it declare his love for impossibly large sandwiches to the literate and illiterate alike, it also fails to indicate in any way that the parking spot it sits in front of is reserved for anyone in particular. Still, I’d be hesitant to park there, as it’s clearly the work of a madman. An extremely hungry madman.
Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/23/09
Whereas the gals, they’re talking about the fellers they met in their youth once, the ones that weren’t their cousins! Haw haw!
This strip seems to indicate that the book Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus would do well in this community, if not for the fact that speaking aloud the names of the terrifying demon-stars that move through the sky will get you burned at the stake there. The strip also seems to promise a series of gags lifted entirely from episodes of An Evening At The Improv circa 1989, such as the different driving habits of black dudes and white dudes and the unpalatability of airline food, but mention of flying machines and non-whites will also get you burned at the stake.
Beetle Bailey, 1/23/09
Gosh, Sarge, I’m not sure happy is how your stomach will feel about a box of matzo, a bowl of eggs, and a bottle of soy sauce.
For reasons that I cannot explain, terrible hillbilly stereotype Snuffy Smith and his kin have been popping up more frequently than usual here of late. Thus, I suppose it’s appropriate to preface this week’s COTW with a couple of interesting bits of Snuffiana from readers. First up is the title sequence from the (hopefully short-lived) Snuffy Smith animated cartoon, in which the title character lets loose a series of squawks that will haunt your dreams:
When you hear “Aw Aw AWWW” in your head over and over again for the next six to eight weeks, you can thank faithful reader Muffaroo.
Since surely that’s only whetted your appetite for all things Snuffy, I now present to you, thanks to faithful reader Jeff and the good folks at Archive.org, the first Snuffy Smith full-length film, 1942’s Private Snuffy Smith, in which our hero joins the army to defeat the forces of Fascism and make the world safe for democracy escape the revenuers.
Even the comely she-rustic in the first scene couldn’t get me through more than five minutes of this, but perhaps you’ll have more stamina. Sadly, Archive.org has not archived this film’s sequel, the awesomely titled Hillbilly Blitzkrieg.
Also, in non-Snuffy Smith news, faithful reader Proco was kind enough to send some scans from The Comics: An Illustrated History of Comic Strip Art, a 1974 book he picked up at a used book sale. Please enjoy this 1959 strip, in which Mary Worth smugly enjoys the debasement of her defeated enemy Connie, only to stiffen in shock when the woman tries to touch her.
And now, with all that out of the way: the COMMENT OF THE WEEK!
“Do you think Mark even knows that he’s married? Maybe he’s holding out hope that Cherry, like most of the other visitors in his home, will eventually regain her strength and find her way back to her natural habitat. That look in the last panel seems to say ‘Oh, no! That one’s still here! And her scent is beginning to attract others of her species.'” –One-Eyed Wolfdog
And the runners up:
“So the moral of this years Curtis Kwanzaa fable is ‘if you don’t want to vomit three-eyed frogs, be sure to feed cheese to the tree stump.’ It’s like Aesop, if he’d suffered a catastrophic head wound and developed aphasia.” –fillmoreeast
“A chair with a purse perched atop it screams ‘Bachelor’ to Margo? That may explain why she’s still unmarried. And I don’t mean because furniture shouts at her, although that’s also not a bad explanation for a lot of things about Margo.” –DaveyK
Spider-Man: “No Electro! Don’t Electrocute me! And no, Murdero! Don’t Murder me! But as for you, Fellatio…” –lettuce
“Oh, Harry. These kids are in Funky Winkerbean. They know they’re not invulnerable to anything.” –Just Me
“Man, that Frank Griffin sure doesn’t give a lot, does he? The absolute farthest he is willing to go is ‘I didn’t want Greg to die.’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lynn. I didn’t necessarily specifically wish for your only friend to die horribly per se. I would have been perfectly content to see him, say, imprisoned or shot into space.'” –Violet
“I do have to applaud Moy for making Frank such a cartoonishly horrible person that we cheer for Mary and her meddling, life-wrecking ways. That’s art, man.” –Zaq
“Reference to Hootin’ Holler + reference to Mark and bestiality + owl’s knowing look = Kruegeresque nightmares lasting well into the spring.” –Patrick
“Sam Driver, the Deepak Chopra of total emotional insensitivity, is giving us a master class in numbness right there in panel 3. ‘Yeah, yeah … face, knife … uh-huh … sounds rough … Say, is there a Jamba Juice around here?'” –Joe Blevins
“What? Mark Trail isn’t written and directed by David Lynch? Then what’s with the weird perspective, the improbable plot twists, the lack of coherent narrative, the leeringly evil mustachioed villains, the wooden and emotionally castrated protagonist, the goofy old men proffering incomprehensible wisdom, the talking animals, and the inscrutable floating Jack Elrod ball? Oh — and the misshapen, lumpen-headed children!?!” –Comrade Denny
“I still think Patty has pubic lice. And if she thinks Mark and Cherry will be any help, she’s crazy. They are both hairless below the neckline, and their blood is pale green and fatal to inverts. That’s why Mark never has to worry about ticks.” –Poteet
“If that box contains a Tiffany engagement ring, it’s the biggest one known to man. Hopefully Eric will hire a sherpa to accompany Margo everywhere and support her bejeweled hand.” –left of the pyle
“Tess’s geometric earlobes match her planar mono-tooth. If I weren’t a real person, I’d totally date her. She’s the most perfect creature ever to escape from 2-dimensional Euclidean space.” –Squid Vicious
“I don’t follow Mark Trail except when it’s posted here, so I may have missed something, but what the hell happened to that kid who looked like Howdy Doody: The Dark Side? Rusty, I think his name was. Did he just wander off into the woods and die? Did Andy eat him? Did our hero chalk it up to natural selection because the kid’s hair wasn’t glossy and rigid enough for the standards of the Lost Forest?” –Calvinball Forever!
“Even more lovable than the baby blue smocks is the featureless subway car and the utterly blank station sign. It’s as if to say, ‘Downtown 4 Express Train to Nowhere, Nowhere At All. Much like all of your careers. And your acrid marriage, Leroy.'” –teddytoad
“I think Lois’ meeting is with the local community theater group … judging from her hat, she’s playing the role of ‘Nipple #2.'” –thehollis
If you have voted with tip jar cash, I thank and salute you! And great balls of fire, our advertisers are bodacious:
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Apartment 3-G, Funky Winkerbean, and Mark Trail, 1/12/09
Not one but three continuity strips greet the new week with shocking plot twists, which, in the world of continuity strips, just means “dragging out the current plot lines in the hopes that you might complain if the newspaper decides to replace said continuity strip with Brewster Rockit.” We begin with Margo, who last we saw was snooping happily around Eric’s well-appointed apartment, finding what appeared to be her own engagement ring (and showing admirably un-Margo-like restraint in not tearing it open and proposing to herself on the spot). Then she noticed a message on Eric’s answering machine, decided to listen to it, and … what? What recorded message could have shaken Margo to her very core, leading her to physically remove the machine from the premises, presumably as a prelude to encasing it in concrete and dropping it into the ocean? Did Alan leave a detailed message explaining the profit-sharing on their dope-dealing scheme? Does Eric have significant overdue fines from Blockbuster for an embarrassing series of romantic comedies (including but not limited to The Lakehouse and Kate and Leopold)? Was it a call asking if he wanted his subscription to Hot Girls Who Never, Ever Wear Vests Magazine renewed? WHAT?
Funky Winkerbean perhaps isn’t supposed to be mysterious; maybe we’re supposed to be familiar enough with Rana’s personality to understand why she would find a “cheerleading notice” to be shrieeekworthy, and whether that would be a good shrieeek or a bad shrieeek. Of course, that would require more than maybe five post-time-jump strips to have focused on her, which hasn’t been the case, so: confusion. And Patty’s sudden urge to flee the Trail compound is confusing in that run-of-the-mill why-do-the-humans-in-Mark-Trail-act-like-this sense. “I thought that five in the morning would be the perfect time to have a woman-to-woman talk, Cherry! Usually at that time my husband is out in the woods, with the animals … oh, I’ve already said too much.”
Hi and Lois, 1/12/09
Ah, the too-busy suburban couple, failing to savor a too-brief moment of contact before heading out to their separate lives. By “icebergs” Hi no doubt means “the genitals of your fellow realtors, at least one of whom apparently has a thing for Phrygian caps.”
Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/12/09
“Haw haw, I knew that’d get a good tongue-wagglin’ laugh out of y’all, considerin’ our illit’racy! Now let’s commence with the book-burnin’.”
