Post Content

Panels from Beetle Bailey, 11/8/09

Here you are, ladies and gentlemen: the most throwawayable thowaway panels in the history of the comics. Carefully designed to occupy space in newspapers that run three rows of Sunday Beetle Bailey panels, but not impart any information that would make the comic less enjoyable in those papers that run only two, these panels masterfully tread water, featuring recognizable words and pictures and yet not advancing the narrative a single iota. This particularly specialized artform has now reached its apex; were any panels to be more throwaway than this, they might make the rest of the comic start running backwards or something.

Panels from Mary Worth, 11/8/09

The throwaway panels in today’s Mary Worth, meanwhile, offer a special subliminal treat: the mention of Willa Cather in the first panel made me briefly wonder if one of the tubes that Adrian was fiddling with was Scott’s catheter. “Okay, now, this line seems fine. How does it feel if I jerk on it like this?”

My Cage, 11/8/09

Man, I usually like My Cage, but it’s all preachy and self-referential today. How lame!

Post Content

Spider-Man, 11/7/09

Oh my goodness, have I somehow managed to completely miss to this point the fact that Spider-Man crime honcho Bigshot is in fact a person of diminutive stature? And that his “Bigshot” moniker is thus delightfully ironic? That’s the conclusion I’m drawing from first two panels. It’s also possible that American’s bankers, apparently deciding that ordinary citizens no longer give them proper respect in the wake of the financial meltdown, have installed raised daises for their tellers so that they can literally glare down at the little people.

Meanwhile, in panel three, the Sandman is showing that Bigshot doesn’t own him. Sure, he may be taking part in this bank heist in order to save his daughter’s life, but he scrupulously avoids using any coarse terms of abuse for lawmen. No, it’s just “pop,” “buddy,” and, if he really gets worked up, “bub.”

Phantom, 11/7/09

Hey, everyone, the Phantom’s wife got blown up! Apparently! But I hear this is the start of a seventeen-month storyline, at the end which I’m guessing the Walkers will be reunited, not that our hero has any way of knowing this, since he doesn’t read the trade press. I mostly just want to point out the implication of the final panel, which is that the creepy cave shaped like a human skull with a terrifying, yawning mouth used to denote good happy fun times for the Phantom and his kids.

Crankshaft, 11/7/09

Crankshaft’s awful yuppie neighbor exists mainly to make Crankshaft look vaguely sympathetic and it’s kind of working here today. Jeez, the old guy’s proud of finally learning the names of all the Canadian provinces and territories, OK? Does it cost you anything to let him finish?

Beetle Bailey, 11/7/09

You know, we all poke fun at the cancer in Funky Winkerbean, but for my money the most depressing things in the comics are the Beetle Bailey strips about how General Halftrack needs to drink himself into a stupor because he hates his wife so much. Dear everyone who can’t get enough booze-soaked marital discord in the paper: Have you tried watching Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? It’s like this, but good!

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 11/5/09

Oh, man, apparently Tommie really isn’t familiar with I Dressed In The Dark, or with the reality TV genre in general, or with the sort of thing that normal humans enjoy as entertainment. If she were, she’d know that she should be jerking about spasmodically for the camera here, clowning it up for the people at home; if she must express negative feelings, they should be big negative feelings, with ostentatious, theatrical bawling. Instead, she’s just looking directly into the camera, and, with a flat expression and eerily affectless voice, describing the terrible emotional desert through which a cruel God has cursed her to wander, like the Israelites, but not as well dressed. I’m assuming that the cameraman is only managing to hold that microphone up through sheer professionalism, and will soon be quietly weeping. Tommie should very much not be allowed on television.

Mary Worth, 11/5/09

Ha ha, look, Adrian is already trying to squirm out of the drunken promises she made to Scott when she thought he was in a coma and couldn’t hear her. Now they’re getting married when he’s “better.” “Adrian, I’m back on my feet and back on the job, and the doctor says that these scars from the bullet wounds are pretty much permanent, so…” “Scott, please! You know I can’t marry a man with any sort of disfigurement! You’ll make sure they heal, if you really love me.”

Gil Thorp, 11/5/09

Congrats to Gil Thorp for depicting what most scientists agree to be the douchiest high-five possible there in panel two. Meanwhile, the parallelism of the two cafeteria scenes leaves one to contemplate the question: where’s a worse place to eat lunch, high school or prison? Your fellow inmates are more likely to shiv you, but at least they won’t stoop to lying about going to your volleyball game.

Dennis the Menace, 11/5/09

I’m sorry, Dennis, this is a game attempt to work within this strip’s restricted ambit of bad behavior, but good manners are never menacing.

B.C., 11/5/09

Ha ha, you see, because one of them wants to kill her, and one of them wants to have sex with her! Women, am I right? They’re like prey animals!

Beetle Bailey, 11/5/09

Honest to God, anyone who opens a gay bar named “McGooey’s” on the outskirts of a US Army base will get free advertising on this site for a year.