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Mary Worth, 5/27/21

We all frankly know that the intertwined personal and (aspirationally, on both parts) professional relationship between Drew and Ashlee is going to hilariously unravel into unhinged acrimony at some point. The delicious narrative tension arises from the question of how, exactly, this will go down. Personally, based on panel one here, in which Ashlee’s limbs are splayed in random directions and her mouth twisted into a rictus grin, my bet is that Drew is going to post a bunch of these pictures to his Instagram and they will be terrible, just laughably bad, thoroughly humiliating Ashlee online and producing a ragestorm that will make her public meltdown from a few weeks ago seem like a calm and rational conversation about a misunderstood scheduling conflict.

Anyway, this panel has delighted me like few others in recent memory, and while I’m not sure I have the energy to run a formal contest, per se, along the lines of the ones I did for self-clubbing Tyler in Gil Thorp and Rex and June’s funeral facial contortions, I certainly wouldn’t object if anyone were to attempt to reproduce Ashlee’s pose/outfit/whole vibe here, photograph themselves in the process, and email the results to me at bio@jfruh.com, and I would definitely post any photos I received on this very blog!

Beetle Bailey, 5/27/21

Hey, guess what year the sale of leaded gasoline for personal vehicle use was fully phased out in the United States? 1996! Guess what the average age of a private in the U.S. Army is? Less than 20! If you think those two numbers seem at odds, maybe contemplate what the average age of a Beetle Bailey reader is instead.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 5/27/21

I am a squeamish indoor kid who does not like bugs, so I am experiencing zero regrets about the fact that I no longer live in Baltimore, which is currently ankle deep in screaming cicadas, according to all my friends there. Anyway, each of those cicadas now befouling lawns across the Mid-Atlantic was laid as an egg 17 years ago, it’s fun to think of them as “teens” to whom you would not loan your car, just like regular teens! That’s because every single neuron in their tiny brains is focused on fucking and then dying, just like regular teens.

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Beetle Bailey, 5/11/21

As recently noted, Zero’s one-dimensional characterization has in the past decade or so shifted from “is very stupid” to “is a very stupid farm boy”. I for one am excited about the next stage in his evolution, to “is a very stupid farm boy who is also a deadly accurate sniper, just pumping bullet after bullet into the skulls of his enemies while maintaining that same vacant, aw-shucks grin.”

Hi and Lois, 5/11/21

Not sure why (beyond basic sexism) “humorless scold” is a common attribute assigned to little girls in comics (see also: Dolly Keane, Margaret from Dennis the Menace) but I feel like Dot has been really leaning hard into it lately, to the extent that it stops being annoying and starts being funny again. “You’re a drunk, mom, and your boring friends are all drunks” is a fine addition to Hi and Lois’s exploration of suburbia’s alcohol problem.

Mary Worth, 5/11/21

I know everything about Ashlee has been a forest of red flags so far, but today she appears to be about to eat a slice of pizza sideways, clear evidence of utter madness. She needs to be locked up in that plastic prison where they put Magneto in the first X-Men movie and studied by scientists to see what makes her tick.

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Beetle Bailey, 4/13/21

I’m reasonably sure that Zero’s original one-note Beetle Bailey character definition was “is stupid,” but apparently at some point along the line it was decided he needed more depth or an origin story or something, so now the fact that he grew up on a farm is also part of his gimmick. He’s still a buck-toothed simpleton, though, which seems like it would alienate readers in “real America,” but I guess when you’re an institution as beloved by elite urban intellectuals as Beetle Bailey, you can get away with this stuff.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/13/21

Today’s strip represents the third time that this “Harry Dinkle the choirmaster” storyline has done a hilarious gag where the ladies of the choir are unfamiliar with Harry’s whole shtick from years as the Westview band director/fundraising impresario, and he briefly flies into a rage before managing to ratchet things back. At least he isn’t bleeding from his face this time? Anyway, it occurs to me that the last time anyone saw Harry in regular action in this strip as a band leader was more than 14 years ago, before he went ironically deaf, so honestly only hardcore Funkyheads like [extremely heavy sigh] me even know what he’s going on about; assuming this strip has accrued any new readers over the past generation, all of them are just as befuddled by what’s going on as the choir ladies are. Neat, huh?

Crankshaft, 4/13/21

OK, now I’m back to wishing that Crankshaft hadn’t skipped over the pandemic, since apparently we missed the delightful image of Crankshaft stabbing himself with a meat thermometer, his friends only able to look on in horror over Facetime as he quickly passed out due to blood loss.