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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.

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Gil Thorp, 2/5/07

It’s good to see that the revolutionary struggle that Steve Luhm and Hadley V. Baxendale waged for gender equality two years ago has transformed Milford High athletics into a gender-blind paradise. Hadley and Steve may have left Milford behind for higher learning at Vassar (where they are pursuing degrees in Women’s Studies and Anthropology, respectively), but their legacy is felt as the boys prepare to go cheer on the Lady Mudlarks in a nurturing, mutually supportive environment. More troubling is the … precipitation … in the first panel. Is that confetti coming down in the middle of the game against New Thayer? Or … snow? Is it snowing indoors? My God, has the girls’ athletic program, in budgeting decisions forced by the ultra-liberal 9th Circuit Court of Appeals’ interpretation of Title IX, eaten up the resources that should by rights be used to patch the roof on the gym where manly competition takes place? DAMN YOU, FEMINAZIS! DAMN YOU TO HELL!

Slylock Fox, 2/5/07

This edition of Slylock Fox presents an intriguing meeting of the realistic and the cartoonish, as the bowler-cap-and-shorts-wearing bright yellow Max Mouse peers nervously through the gloom at his much more lifelike feral counterpoint, who presumably spends less time aiding detective work and enjoying co-ed sleepovers with lady mice named “Melody” and more time eating garbage and being poisoned. Similarly pleasing and realistically drawn is the sinister, multitentacled furnace. As for the mystery itself, the solution is rather clever, though I imagine that whoever comes down to turn the furnace on will be less likely to provide clues to Slylock and Max to help them catch the thief and more likely to shriek and try to hit them with a broom.

B.C., 2/5/07

Ha! It’s funny because … there’s … a pit with a huge pile of … dismembered human legs. Or, um, parts of human legs, anyway. Um. Funny. Ha. Um.

Curtis, 2/5/07

Dear Curtis:

• Compton.
• Philly.
• The distance between the two.

Here to help.

The Family Circus, 2/5/07

Years later, renowned developer William Keane, a close friend to the Secretary of the Interior, stood on the ridgeline and watched the bulldozers do their work, transforming this part of the former Yellowstone National Park into the Estates at Yellowstone™. As the formerly rugged ground was graded into the smooth surfaces necessary to build the broad arterials, looping drives, and nestled cul de sacs that would define the geography of this exclusive suburban community, a small smile played across his lips, as if some ancient anger had finally been soothed.

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Spider-Man, 1/13/07

The secret fear of anyone in a profession that might be broadly labeled as “helpful” is that they’ll do such a good job that they’ll be rendered obsolete. For instance, for my non-comics-mocking job, I for the most part edit material written by and for computer programmers; deep down, I worry that my skillful and helpful suggestions will eventually sink in, and the geeks of the world will soon be sending grammatical, well structured, easy-to-read prose to publishers worldwide, rendering my services superfluous; this is why I’m trying to milk as much cash from the comics gig as I can. Police officers presumably fret that one day they’ll eliminate all crime everywhere, freeing up tax dollars to go towards city-subsidized public bocce courts. Perhaps this is why cops turn corrupt: it’s actually part of their union rules, so that there’s always crime to fight.

For superheroes, it’s not cash at stake, since any one of them could make big money on the sideshow circuit; rather, it’s their intrinsic sense of self-worth. Spider-Man’s own ego is pretty shaky: he plummets into a pointless pit of hypermacho self-loathing every time he realizes that his wife makes more than he does. Thus, it should come as no surprise that he positively revels in Los Angeles’ sky-high crime rate as the only cure to his sense of existential despair. Sure, it’s apparently just some extra from a gay pirate porno film dabbling in a little purse snatching, but whiny whiny Peter Parker will take emotional validation from wherever he can get it.

Marvin, 1/13/07

Note to cartoonist everywhere: Most of the characters in your feature may just crap in their pants instead of into a toilet like civilized people, but doesn’t mean that you can repeatedly make jokes about it, OK? Just … just trust me on this. It’s not acceptable. God help us all if this spreads to the folks at the other end of the age spectrum in Gasoline Alley or Momma.

B.C., 1/13/07

OK, see, the first boomerang joke was mildly amusing. The second is loopy and weird, and sort of indicates that Johnny Hart has the idea of a boomerang sort of stuck in his mind like a bit of chicken between two teeth, and he’s idly working at it with his tongue, and we have to watch the results. And it’s a boomerang. Not something interesting and relevant and funny. A boomerang. Troubling.