Archive: Beetle Bailey

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/19/17

America’s rural, non-coastal areas have some legitimate beefs about how they’re depicted in the media, and it’s a constant sad demonstration of how little cultural reach comics have anymore that nobody has ever tried to organize an angry boycott of newspapers that run Barney Google and Snuffy Smith. A lot of jokes work on the principle of misdirection, and here’s how this one does it: you think city slicker Barney Google, with his talk of “stores,” is going to get schooled by Snuffy, who still hunts for turkey just like the pilgrims and Native Americans did in the 17th century. But nope, turns out he’s just a thief! Ha ha!

Beetle Bailey, 11/19/17

A fun thing about writing a comic strip is that you can get ideas from anywhere in your daily life! For instance, maybe the tech nerds who run the syndicate these days have it set up so you have to log in to upload the comic art now instead of just having your assistant FedEx it like you did for years, and maybe you’ve misplaced the post-it where you wrote down your password. Good news! By the time you manage to log in, you’ve already got next Sunday’s strip written!

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Beetle Bailey, 11/15/17

It’s really pretty hard to figure out what the saddest thing going on here is. Is it that the Army can’t accommodate the needs of its older officers and their touchy digestive/urinary systems? Is it that General Halftrack is so thoroughly dedicated to his job that he’s willing to piss and/or shit himself in public? Is it that he’s decided that wearing five adult diapers simultaneously is a good strategy, even though a little thought on the logistics of this would reveal that you’d pretty quickly need to get somewhere private to remove some of the layers, which negates the whole purpose of the move? Or is it that Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC feels a need to compete with Marvin in the piss play/scat humor space? Whatever you choose, I think we should all give kudos to the artist, who managed to sympathetically depict the true pathos and anxiety on General Halftrack’s face while simultaneously giving him a comically large diaper-padded ass.

Marvin, 11/15/17

Speaking of Marvin, it’s not true that all the strip’s characters are required to stew in their own feces or urine in order to amuse this feature’s dedicated readership. Technically, their contract just says they need to occasionally “soil themselves.”

Funky Winkerbean, 11/15/17

Oh, good news, beloved embittered dead comics book artist Phil Holt has now joined Dead Saint Lisa in Funkyverse purgatory, where you just follow your loved ones around all the time, even if that means you have to watch them fool around in a car. Since Phil’s only loved ones were his precious comics covers, he’ll be following them to wherever they’re gonna get auctioned off to, I guess. Anyway, I’ve always hoped that one of the benefits of moving on to the next plane of existence is that you get a certain perspective on and insight into our mortal world, but it’s tough to watch Phil learn that comic books really are for nerds.

Family Circus, 11/5/17

Ha ha, Jeffy has misunderstood something as criticism and is absolutely furious about it, and is seeking reassurance from an authority figure. He’s gonna go far in life, this one!

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Beetle Bailey, 11/10/17

Today definitely represents a high point in the 67-year-long failure to pass the Bechdel Test that is Beetle Bailey. The joke (“joke”) requires another woman with whom Private Blips can cattily gossip about Miss Buxley. Too bad there aren’t female characters available! Apparently it wasn’t considered realistic for her to be chatting with Mrs. Halftrack, Sgt. Lugg, or Sgt. Lugg’s cat [the following name came instantly to mind, despite my inability to remember, say, how old any of my nieces or nephews are] Bella, so the Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC creative team just summoned a raven-haired doppelgänger out of the ether for her.

Gil Thorp, 11/10/17

Wow, Rick’s thousand-mile stare in the final panel is something. In an instant, he sees his life flickering ahead of him: his fame on message boards and Facebook groups frequented by elderly war vets will inevitably lead to a tour of VFW halls around the country, endless staring into seas of rheumy eyes as excited to hear patriotic ditties as they are suspicious of his shaggy-haired youthfulness. He’s going to be singing the national anthem a lot. Maybe “God Bless America,” too, if he’s feeling a little crazy. But he and Francis Scott Key are going to be locked in an intimate, suffocating embrace for years to come.