Post Content

Blondie, 2/17/17

I feel like the moment when Dagwood stopped being just a generic white collar worker at Dithers Industries and started being referred to as an “office manager” happened within living memory — like, maybe even since I started doing this blog. And while it’s true that specificity is generally a good thing in jokes, nothing about Dagwood’s intermittently depicted job duties ever matches up with that description; he never seems to be, say, budgeting for office supplies or figuring out who should sit where or designing filing systems. Instead, he prepares “reports” about “accounts” and deals with “clients,” all of which seems outward-facing and outside his job duties. Perhaps today’s strip explains all that, though, if “office manager” is just code for “person who services our clients, sexually, then prepares detailed reports that we use for blackmail purposes.”

Slylock Fox, 2/17/17

Obviously that’s supposed to be a fan tail at the bottom of our mysteriously four-limbed lobster’s torso here, but for the life of me it looks like pleated material of a skirt. Basically, that’s what I’m going to imagine it is, shielding the dangling lobster junk from our field of vision.

Pluggers, 2/17/17

Pluggers also realized why many texting conversations didn’t go as expected when informed that “FML” does not stand for “friend: make love?”

Post Content

Mary Worth, 2/9/17

Oh, hey, by the way, Iris has been dumping Zak in slow motion this whole week, and he still hasn’t realized it’s happening! I certainly hope this draws out as long as possible:

“We had some great times together, and I don’t regret any of it!”

“Neither do I!”

“I realize, though, we live very different lives…”

“We sure do! They say variety’s the spice of life!”

“It’s just … I think we maybe should see other people.”

“Ha ha! I’m seeing another person right now! He’s right behind you! Hi mister, I see you!”

Blondie, 2/9/17

Dagwood immediately effacing his identity out of self-loathing and shame over his own wholly merited reputation for workplace incompetence is probably the saddest thing I’ve ever seen him do in this strip, and I’ve seen him breakdance with joy because he didn’t have to go eat at someone else’s house.

Slylock Fox, 2/9/17

The deranged, half-starved castaway in the drawing on the left wants to eat the bird. In the drawing on the right, he wants to make love to it.

Post Content

Hi and Lois and Blondie, 2/5/17

Is there anything more embarrassing than making a big, public gesture of your affection for someone else and having it not just rebuffed, but completely ignored? For their Super Bowl party, Hi and Lois have failed to invite any of their fellow damned souls from the Walker-Browne universe; Beetle Bailey, lest you forget, is actually Lois’s brother, and the Hagar the Horrible gang is probably … the Flagstons’ distant ancestors? Anyway, the point is, if it’s possible to bring the Bumsteads, a family from an entirely different intellectual property spacetime continuum, in for the Super Bowl, they easily could’ve done it with Sarge and Lucky Eddy or whoever. But nope, screw their actual family, the Flagstons would rather social climb with Blondie and Dagwood and … Mr. Dithers? Jesus, they invited Mr. Dithers to their party. Probably because he’s rich. Maybe this is like when Tom Cruise pretended to befriend his fellow Scientologist Leah Remini just so he could invite Remini’s pal J-Lo to his wedding in Italy and … where was I? Oh, right, the Flagstons are a bunch of phonies. Meanwhile, in his own actual universe, Dagwood is watching TV with his dog. Enjoy the game, everybody!