Archive: Beetle Bailey

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Judge Parker, 11/12/06

Oh man, Sunday’s pre-“Meanwhile” Judge Parker packs in as much queasy adolescent sexuality as a John Irving novel. The image of Ned sticking out her ass for her mother, and asking “You don’t think it’s too revealing … too sexy?” is somewhat alluring, but mostly horrifying. Abbey’s blatant look of mingled horror and arousal in panel five adds to the squirm. She probably would like to complain about her daughter’s trampy outfit, but realizes that she doesn’t really have the moral authority to do so since you can totally see her buttcrack in panel three.

By the way, Neddy, French women dress in sexy and stylish clothes, not like … that. Prepare to be mocked.

(Incidentally, Abbey isn’t Ned’s bio-mom … and I’m pretty certain Ned was adopted as a teenager. I’m not sure if that makes the underlying tension here better or not.)

Post-“Meanwhile,” the phrase “Nice work, Celeste … you smell like a still!” may be the best marital put-down this side of the Lockhorns. Still, it’s nice that Reggie gave her a full two hours get her drunken mess of a life together enough to get to the press conference.

Beetle Bailey, 11/12/06

There’s a lot to hate about today’s Beetle Bailey. It follows the weird stumbly, improvised, cumulative-joke rhythm that’s been somewhat typical of the Sunday strips of late. I also wonder what happened to Beetle’s perfectly presentable t-shirt-and-shorts combo while he was in the truck, or why Miss Buxley is the only person Beetle can think of to call in his predicament, or how Miss Buxley could possibly be so femme that she doesn’t own any clothing item that isn’t a dress, or any shoes that aren’t high heels. However, I’d like to reserve the brunt of my ire for the phrase “But it sure left its output,” which has never been and will never be uttered by any speaker of idiomatic English ever.

Mary Worth, 11/12/06

As Mary walks towards her date with destiny, it’s amazing just how rattled she is. First off, in the first panel she appears to actually be practicing her first greeting to her new archrival. In panel three, she looks like she’s sneaking down the hall way, ready to leap around the corner and bash in roller-suitcase-woman’s skull with her pan. But mostly I’m charmed by the look of grim determination on her face, which gives way to an utterly insincere smile in the final panel. Next week is going to be great.

Family Circus, 11/12/06

The lesson: You can’t have nice things when your kids are morons.

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Heart of the City and Get Fuzzy, 11/6/06

There’s been a bit of back-and-forth in the comments today about the latest Mallard Fillmore, and exactly who and who not is being urged not to vote by America’s favorite only talking Republican journalist duck. While things have remained civil enough to avoid banishment to the Cockpit (and let’s keep it that way, shall we?), I’m surprised nobody mentioned these two strips, in which children and animals are urged to vote. I think that Satchel might be Canadian, even. The fact that he’s a Green supporter should probably come as surprise to no-one.

Beetle Bailey, 11/6/06

Meanwhile, Beetle Bailey is just totally insane and such. I’m going back and forth on whether this is a genuine hallucinogenic product of a deranged mind or an attempt at forced whimsy that has resulted from all the elevated prose extolling Duck Amuck. On the one hand, the little cutsie waterfowl outfits (look, a little girl! a cowboy! a millionaire!) are a bit too precious and calculated; but the phrase “invaded my dream” creeps me out, and the weird circle-with-a-line beaks of the father/son ducks in panel one and richie rich duck in panel two are just not right at all, and are in themselves fertile nightmare fuel.

Slylock Fox, 11/6/06

Also today, the little Goat kids (see what I just did there?) are being made accustomed to the nightmarish police state that awaits them as adults. “Say, someone ate the cookies? Let’s call in CSI: Genus Vulpes and subject you three to a full-on interrogation until someone confesses!”

At least Slylock uses the power of deductive reasoning to determine the culprits, rather than just going at them with a rubber hose right off the bat. I love the look on the face of bowler-wearing-sidekick-mouse-whose-name-I-forget. He has no real crime-fighting abilities or interest; he’s just happy to be there, drinking coffee out of a mug the size of his head.

Mark Trail, 11/6/06

I’m beginning to think that Molly, the pet bear, isn’t particularly bright.

Hey, everybody! Kelly Welly and Ranger Rick have suddenly re-entered this story after — what is it, three months now? What do you suppose they’ve been up to? Never mind, I think we all know what they’ve been doing.

Mary Worth, 11/6/06

Look at the way Mary grits her teeth in that last panel. I have a feeling that Ella’s casserole is going to be made up mostly of broken glass, fiberglass insulation, and bleach.

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Beetle Bailey, 10/17/06

I don’t have contact with anyone in the army right now, so I have to assume that Beetle Bailey is an accurate picture of what life is like in the American military today — and a very troubling picture it is, too. I’m not sure what’s worse: Beetle stewing over getting punched in the face by his superior officer, the chaplain urging Beetle to just submit to the abuse, or the idea that a “turn the other cheek” philosophy makes for good soldiering. Beetle pointing to his bruise in the second panel looks like something out of a Lifetime movie about domestic violence starring Judith Light.

One Big Happy, 10/17/06

First pants-wetting jokes, now pants-crapping jokes. Let it never be said that One Big Happy doesn’t push the boundaries of acceptable child-centered family-newspaper comedy.

Judge Parker, 10/17/06

“Hoo hoo, Sam, look, if I put this cigar under my nose, it looks like a mustache! Hee hee! Isn’t that funny? Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re on the phone, you can’t see me.”

By the way, Sam came home from work this evening to find his wife wearing something low cut with a bottle of wine and a lit candle set out, glowing at him with a thousand-watt “let’s get it on” stare, and yet this is how his evening is ending. Maybe Reggie Black is onto something with his “not the marrying kind” smears against the Randy Parker campaign.

Mary Worth, 10/17/06

Oh my God, Mary Worth is the queen of bitch. “I’m sorry, were you still giving a second thought to what’s-his-name, with the mustache, whom we drove to his death? You pathetic, weak-kneed little fool. And now you’ve interrupted my favorite sex fantasy: you know, the one where Dr. Jeff Cory wants to have sex with me and I turn him down.” This heavy-handed shift is presumably meant to indicate that we’re ready for the next storyline, which will involve Dr. Jeff’s triumphant return from the exotic and cleft-palated east, but I’m still hoping that the ghost of Aldo will haunt the proceedings yet. Best case scenario: Jeff, newly awakened to a life of service and kindness to his fellow man by his trip to Cambodia, hears the description of Aldo’s doom and recoils in horror. “Why … you’re all a pack of murderers! Sociopaths!” He flees Charterstone in disgust, while the Fearsome Foursome stares on uncomprehending. “What’s his problem?” huffs Ian.

Gil Thorp, 10/17/06

I … I don’t know what this means, but … it seems kind of gay to me. “Stormy” needs your life-breathing-nipple-based heroism, Sean, whether you like it or not.

By the way, faithful reader/madman jonnya offers this hilarious instigation for you to buy crap from my store: