Post Content

Gil Thorp, 7/5/09

HOLY CRAP YOU GUYS GIL THORP HAS A TWITTER! GIL THORP. HAS A TWITTER. And before you say, “Oh, the character Gil Thorp has a Twitter within the context of the fictional Gil Thorp universe, how mundane,” let me just assure you that while Gil Thorp may be a narrative construct his Twitter feed is all too real. Just think of the tweeting slap-fights that will soon break out with Marty Moon!

I am a little concerned about Gil’s statement that he has “a whole beautiful summer to figure it out.” Summertime in Gil Thorp is supposed to be about total deranged lunacy like Gail Martin hiring Coach Kaz, P.I. and Marty Moon getting grifted by Ben Franklin and little girls beating the crap out of each other at gymnastics and Von the teenage DJ protecting his older lady friend from a stalker who can’t spell. Last year’s long, boring continuation of the tale of Elmer the Accidental Illegal Immigrant was a terrible disappointment in this regard, but it will seem like a crazed, non-stop roller-coaster ride on PCP by comparison if we spend the next two months watching nothing but Gil laboriously hunting-and-pecking his way through four or five Twitter updates a day.

Blondie, 7/4/09

Underlying the the absurd, low-stakes suburban antics of Dagwood and his friends has always been a sense of ennui, a feeling that there must be more to life to experience that carpools and borrowed tools. Thus, it’s not surprising that Dagwood and Herb have decided to form a two-man anarchist terror cell, determined to spread destruction for its own sake, offering to their neighbors the joy of being alive that only close encounters with death can provide. Today the bowling alley goes up in flames, tomorrow Dithers Enterprises LLC’s headquarters!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/4/09

Good lord, why would Peter ever even consider stepping out on his lovely wife? Estelle the Nutritionist may be fetching enough, but she’d probably look at that plate of lo mein and mutter under her breath about sodium and MSG; Becka, meanwhile, knows just how to drive a man wild, sucking a single long noodle slowly up from the plate while locking her unblinking, reptilian eyes on Pete. Undeniably HOTT, am I right people?

Spider-Man, 7/4/09

If panel three is any indication, the way that Peter Parker makes moments last forever is by crapping in his pants. That way, if someone asks him, “Peter, what would consider to be your greatest achievement as a professional photographer?” he can say “That’s easy! It was the day I got the Bugle to buy my pictures at twice their usual rates!  I remember because that was also the day I pooped in my drawers.”

Post Content

Blondie, 6/13/09

Oh look, it’s yet another Blondie where I’m left wondering exactly how I’m supposed to assemble the various elements into a pleasing joke-like whole. Does Dagwood refer to the order-taker as a “clown” because of the semi-conscious association resulting from his giving his order into a molded-plastic clown head? Are we supposed to think that Dagwood is so dumb that he believes that a literal clown is taking his order? Or is a literal clown in fact taking his order — some poor bastard with clowning experience who was willing to answer any job ad, any job ad at all, only to find himself shackled and put into some kind of stocks and forced to hawk greasy food to folks in their cars? It would certainly explain the desperation he exhibits at being unable to move sufficient quantities of product.

I have already expressed my admiration for Clown Burger’s “Say — then pay!” motto. Few corporations are as willing to explain how a simple economic transaction works on such a basic level: “First you must tell us what it is you wish to purchase, through a speech act of some sort; then you must supply some medium of exchange to us.”

Family Circus, 6/13/09

Uh-oh, it looks like Billy has discovered philosophy, or perhaps has been listening in to the conversations of stoned college students! Either way, the blank, expressionless faces of his siblings shows just how well fancy brain-thinkin’ goes down in the Keane Kompound. A swift but brutal beating will soon teach him that the only kind of utterances permitted here are prayers or adorable malapropisms.

Post Content

Blondie, 6/10/09

We all know that Dithers Enterprises is a terrifying corporate police state, but I find today’s installment of Panopticon Follies to be a little much. What’s most disturbing is the punchline, which revolves not around the fact that Dagwood is being tracked like a dangerous criminal or an experimental animal, but that he spent the bulk of his work day desperately trying to wriggle out of his ankle bracelet rather than slaving away on whatever slave-labor tasks Dithers has set for him. The only way it could be more unsettling would be if Blondie offered him a foot-long sandwich and he pointed to his bloody ankle-stump and said “No need, honey! I ate at the office!”

Funky Winkerbean, 6/10/09

The best part about this Funky Winkerbean is that it’s only Wednesday, so we’re only halfway through what’s presumably a week-long run of “How grim can it get up here on the roof?” Hopefully Saturday will consist of two silent panels of the empty lawn chairs, then a bird’s eye view of the two tiny figures on the asphalt below, limbs twisted and necks snapped.

Mary Worth, 6/10/09

Here’s a fun little game: try to imagine which sex act Ian and Toby refer to as “riding the waves.” Now try to unimagine it. Ha ha! Bet you can’t!