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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.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/14/07

Sometimes I get a terrifying moment where I believe I control the comics with my mind and all the nonexistent subtext I go on and on about is actually true, and I had a doozy of one of those when I read today’s Rex Morgan. Sure, it’s the usual “Hey, Rex, let’s screw!” “I think someone’s forgetting our arrangement” routine that we’ve come to know and love, but then everybody’s fun is spoiled by the look of heartbreaking disappointment on June’s face in panel three. Yes, Rex is dashing off, and by taking Nikki with him, it’s check and mate, if you know what I mean; June is once again the lonely point on the triangle. Will the next plotline be about how June needs to strike out on her own to find love, or at least satisfaction? Or will it just be endless pederastic innuendoes about fishing, with that sad, big-eyed face in the last panel floating at the edge of our consciousness for the next six to eight weeks?

Rex’s already feeble desire to have the relations with his wife may have been further dampened by her weirdly elongated neck and oddly shaped head in the first panel. Watch out, Elastic Lass! You need to return your body to its default configuration before interacting with the non-stretchies, or you’ll disturb them!

Gil Thorp, 9/14/07

I knew that high school sports have an essentially religious significance in the God-forsaken burg of Milford, but that didn’t prepare me for the scene of absolute mayhem in the third panel here, which I assume to be a vignette from a football pep rally of some kind. As Gil announces the starters for this year’s team, he seems oblivious to the monstrous geyser of flame erupting from the Earth’s crust just behind him. Presumably, as is the tradition, the student body is celebrating the beginning of football season by gathering in front of the town volcano. They’ve ingested some kind of hallucinogenic root or fungus, so instead of fleeing in terror from the magma, they writhe in a great ecstatic mass, as you can see in the background. Those who are splashed by the ultrahot lava but survive are considered to be marked by the fire gods, and will be permitted to try out for the team next year, which explains why the Mudlarks are all so hideously ugly and/or deformed.

Family Circus, 9/14/07

Wow, Billy really, really cares about music. And about imposing his will on everybody around him. I don’t know what’s more unnerving: the fact that he looks like he’s about to haul off and punch his sister in the face for mishumming some damn Wiggles song, or the fact that Dolly looks sad and scared but also resigned to being punched in the face because, really, she should have learned the melody better before humming it in public.

For Better Or For Worse, 9/14/07

There’s a lot to dislike about this FBOFW. For instance, it’s fairly obviously a new strip, but it’s just as obviously been done in the style of the old strips we’ve been seeing for the past few weeks, which is kind of jarring. I guess the simpler style is supposed to represent “in the past”, but the lettering and the gradients and multiple background characters give it away. It also features that stunning and totally unselfaware Michael Patterson self-regard we’ve all come to know and loathe. But I still kind of like it, because panel four features baby Elizabeth visibly vomiting, and there just isn’t enough puke in the funny pages for my taste.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/14/07

There are generally two kinds of reaction shots in the punchline panel of Snuffy Smith. Either one character is visibly laughing, mouth open and tongue wagging, because the simple folk of Hootin’ Holler don’t need anything more than the corny jokes typical of Snuffy Smith to have a good time; or one character looks frowny-faced and wrinkle-browed, because even in Hootin’ Holler, the best kind of punchline involves someone suffering at least a little bit. But rarely do you see the sort of dumbstruck amazement that’s on the face of Snuffy in panel two here. It’s as if he’s thinking, “Jesus Christ, was this Snuffy Smith built around a frickin’ astrology joke? Seriously?”

Dennis the Menace, 9/14/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because Mr. Wilson doesn’t have any friends!

Luann, 9/14/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because Brad doesn’t have any friends!