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B.C., 4/8/07

Johnny Hart, creator of B.C. and writer (or co-writer? I’ve never been able to nail this down exactly) of Wizard of Id died Saturday. Today’s Easter strip is perhaps appropriately typical of his later work: infused with his religious beliefs, and largely idiosyncratic and inscrutable (numerology?). He liked to take potshots at atheists, Darwinists, and Jews, and as an interested party I have a hard time not taking those personally, but I’m not going to write anything mean about him today. Instead, I’ll just note that the dude died at his drawing board. That’s hardcore.

Here’s the obit from the AP via CNN. One of the things that struck me was this bit:

Richard Newcombe, founder and president of Creators Syndicate in Los Angeles … said Hart was the first cartoonist to sign on when the syndicate was created 20 years ago. “Traditionally, comic strips were owned by syndicates,” Newcombe said. “We were different because we allowed cartoonists to own their own work. It was … Johnny’s commitment to this idea that made us a success.”

This is the end of the CNN version of the story, but faithful reader pesch (who works in a newsroom and has reason to know) adds this from a version of the story he’s seen:

Newcombe said B.C. and Wizard of Id would continue. Family members have been helping produce the strips for years, and they have an extensive computer archive of Hart’s drawings to work with, he said.

If I have any pull at all in the comics industry, I have to beg and plead for this not to happen. Say what you will for good or for ill about Hart’s work, but it has always struck me (despite that note about help from family members) as being indisputably his work. The best way to honor that would be for it to stand on its own, not to be continued by assistants cutting and pasting new dialogue into scans of old strips. Because of the way that comics publishing works, there will be a few weeks worth of Hart-authored strips still to run, but after that it should bow gracefully out. It may be hard to believe for younger folks, but Hart was one of a generation of young turks who shook up the comics page in the 1970s, and letting his strip continue in other hands denies that chance to others and diminishes what went before.

Some folks have already used other comment threads to argue vociferously about the best way to honor (or not) his memory. Feel free to work out your aggressions here; doing so elsewhere will get you sent to The Cockpit.

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B.C., 3/16/07

Ha ha! It’s funny because his wife talks a lot, and he’s tired of it, even though he presumably knew she talked a lot when he married her, so he’s got her tied up in the basement with duct tape over her mouth!

Wait, did I say “funny”? Because I meant “horribly offensive.” But see, when he calls her some 19th century term of abuse like “magpie,” it’s all old-timey, so we can just ignore it. Ha ha, that Johnny Hart! That crusty old hateful bastard! Ha!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/16/07

Wait, now hold on just a darn minute. Niki might be pretty good at garage cleaning and such, but there is one — exactly one — person in this neck of the woods who works on fence-related issues. One. And I think we all know who that is:

Hopefully, that’s him at the door right now, to set things straight and present a grossly inflated estimate.

(Baffled Rex-Morgan-readers-come-lately should check out this classic post.)

Apartment 3-G, 3/16/07

You know what offends me about Apartment 3-G? It’s set in New York, right? Now, I don’t live there, but I do love the place. It’s one of those cities in the world that has a really strong sense of place: if you’re there, you know you’re there, and nowhere else. Unless, of course, you’re in Apartment 3-G, which could take place literally anywhere that’s full of tall buildings and white people. The Apartment 3-G girls never take the subway, or a taxi. (Even Neddy and Abbey are taking the Paris Métro, for God’s sake.) They never eat at any of the many famous, recognizable restaurants at their disposal. Starving artist Lu Ann never visits any of the world-class art galleries. And Neil is getting great reviews in the “local press.” I think the world could handle the name of one or more of the major New York papers, people. You can look them up on the Internet even.

Mark Trail, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH HUGE SOULLESS TERRIFYING EYES SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO

Mary Worth, 3/16/07

YEARRRRGGGHH MARY INQUIRING ABOUT SOMEBODY’S SEX LIFE SCARY SCARY SCARY NOOOOOOOO

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B.C., 2/27/07

B.C.’s love of the interrobang should come as no surprise to regular readers of the strip. But since it’s not a love shared by the population at large, it probably wouldn’t have hurt to actually, you know, show one (if your browser can display it, you should see one here: ‽). Since most readers probably never even heard of this useless punctuation mark even during its 1960s heyday, that first panel might as well have read “Who can tell me what a ‘shootupsuspect’ is?”

B.C.’s use of the accidental (or “accidental”) death of someone in police custody as joke fodder should also come as no surprise to regular readers of the strip.

Speaking of odd typography, what exactly is that symbol between the 2 and the 4 on the blackboard in the third panel? It looks like a backwards “R” — like the one used in the title of that Amerika miniseries in the 1980s, where the Soviets take over and then put all registered gun owners into concentration camps. Hmm, I’m seeing a pattern here.

Judge Parker, 2/27/07

You watch out, Angela! Cedric is going to point the hell out of at you! Look at that blast of energy — he points with the pointing power of a thousand temp butlers!

Lord only knows what sort of outfit Cedric favors when he’s not on duty, but panel two is proof that it’s physically impossible to look menacing and bad-ass when you’re wearing a bow tie.

Apartment 3-G, 2/27/07

Yeah, see, this is what I’m talking about: Margo, baby, Margo! Just as Lu Ann’s art studio adventure is a cautionary tale on the dangers of huffing paint, so Margo’s drama illustrates how cocaine use can ravage your relationship with others. In panel one, our girl Magee is a tightly coiled spring of rage, ready to punch the next person who crosses her — or even looks at her funny — right in the teeth. In panel two, she’s so happy to see Eric that she looks like she’s going to lunge at him and tear off his clothes, or possibly his face. I hope that the “someone special” that Eric wants her to meet is wearing a catcher’s mask, for his or her sake.

Dennis the Menace, 2/27/07

Ruff also doesn’t have to go to school, and gets to urinate outside and roll around in his own filth. On the other hand, there’s the whole castration angle to consider.

Momma, 2/27/07

If you have to repeat the same phrase twice — once to mishear, once to clarify — in consecutive panels, then your miscommunication-themed joke has gone off the rails. On the other hand, I appreciate the mace-like object that Tina is holding in the final panel. Apparently she feels that Mother Hobbes deserves to be bludgeoned to death.