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Apartment 3-G, 12/2/07

“I worked on my paintings there! And that’s the window where I watched the moon!! And this is the room where I spent thirty-seven interminable weeks taking orders from what may have been the ghost of a prominent late 19th century American artist, but was probably just a figment of my oxygen-starved brain! Ha ha ha! Oh, did I forget to tell you about that, what with my conveniently selective amnesia and all?” Seriously, are we just going to pretend that the whole Ghost Ryder thing JUST NEVER HAPPENED? ARE WE? Because … because actually that would be pretty great. I really hated that whole storyline while it was happening, and the last thing I want to do is watch it get rehashed by these two morons.

Meanwhile, at the tavern across town: “Yes, but we could make it more fun, Gary! I’ve just heard about this great new thing all the young people are doing! It’s called ‘sex’!”

Blondie, 12/2/07

Yes, it looks like Dagwood and Blondie are friends with … the Glamrockers? All of them? From the entire history of glam rock? What about the ones like David Bowie, who eventually moved on to other aesthetics? Does this have anything to do with the Glambaster account?

I think the key to this whole puzzle is the middle panel of the bottom row, in which Dagwood busts out some old-school breakdance moves to celebrate the fact that he doesn’t have to go sit on the Glamrockers’ couch and watch Velvet Goldmine yet again. Obviously by the late ’70s or early ’80s Dagwood had come to believe that the whole glam rock craze was worn out and too studied by half, and found refuge in the new raw and frentic styles arising from the streets of the South Bronx.

Mark Trail, 12/2/07

Normally Mark Trail’s Sunday strips exist in a world wholly separate from the daily plots, but I can’t help but wonder if today’s lavishly illustrated paean to ritualized combat is meant to serve as a sad counterpoint to the deadly conclusion to the battle for territory between Johnny Malotte and Bull Malone. Why can’t humans take a cue from our animal friends, who know how far is too far? Why couldn’t Johnny and Bull simply have forced each other to smell their knuckles by turns until one of them had enough and withdrew instead of resorting to gunplay?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/2/07

If there’s one constant in the world of Rex Morgan, M.D., it’s that Rex is kind of a dick. Thus, I’m actually kind of surprised that Rex didn’t take the opportunity to correct Mrs. Jail Escapee’s reference to Niki as Rex’s “son.” “I’m sorry, ma’am, maybe it’s because you’re a lowlife yourself, but it should be pretty obvious to anyone with any degree of class that this little street punk obviously did not grow up in the sort of upper middle class home that my doctor’s salary could provide. That explains why he constantly disappoints me, anyway.” Of course, he’s still a dick enough to have underdosed Mr. Escapee on painkillers before cutting his arm open. With Rex, being a dick always comes first, even if it means that he might get shot in the face. That’s just how he rolls.

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Judge Parker, 11/26/07

All hopes that a Judge Parker comic might contain something interesting happening — like, say, a deranged Biff Dickens believing that he’s buzzing the trenches on the Western Front and strafing Sam and Abbey — will of course be dashed. What I’m kind of sad about is that Abbey has been too busy freaking out about her daughter’s burgeoning sexuality to notice that an airstrip was being built right next door to the farm where all her precious pretty ponies frolic. Just think of the exciting action that could have transpired if she had gone to the county meetings to try to block Biff’s permit! The whole thing would have ended up in court, of course, with Abbey represented by Sam, and the newly elected Judge Parker Jr. presiding and handing the case to his ex-partner and campaign manager with a wink. Sadly, whatever plot is actually going to arise is going to be even less interesting than that.

Spider-Man, 11/26/07

Far be it for me to suggest that Peter Parker use his mutant spider-strength (do they say that?) and other superpowers to go on a killing spree (great power, great responsibility, blah blah blah) … but say just for sake of argument that Spidey did take the Persuader apart like a cheap watch, which I assume means, I don’t know, that his outside would be cracked open and enough of his insides would fall out that he wouldn’t work anymore. Since the only person to see him open the proportional can of whoop-ass of a spider would now be dead and dismembered, wouldn’t Peter Parker’s secret identity still be safe? Unless, of course, this blatant act of Persuasion is not taking place in an empty alleyway as the first panel implies, but rather before a crowd of indifferent witnesses. “Say, Phyllis, look over there at that hulking ruffian attempting to stake a claim over that wimp’s wife by force. Darwin in action, ya know? Kid should try that Charles Atlas program!”

Slylock Fox, 11/26/07

Is Harry Ape the same guy as the maroon-suited gorilla-pimp we saw Slylock lasso a couple of weeks ago? If so, he’s fallen a long way, stealing a vanity (possibly the least butch piece of furniture possible) from Foo Foo Cat for his mommy. Actually, with the original owner having a name like “Foo Foo Cat,” purple is probably a much more macho color for the vanity than whatever it was before he painted it. I’m assuming that the squat, besotted thing clutching Harry’s gut is the aforementioned mommy, though I didn’t think that apes demonstrated such striking sexual dimorphism.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 11/26/07

You might recall from previous TDIET appearances that “Kimberly A. Coe” is faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader Trotzenbonnie. She shares with us the tale of her latest triumph:

I sent several ideas to Mr. Scaduto way back in February and he used two but rejected the third. I have a feeling that he just didn’t get it. Well, a few weeks ago I received a copy of the cartoon he worked up for the rejected idea with the attached note: “Hi, Kimberly — A situation similar to your cartoon idea happened to my wife and myself — Our grandson told us to be careful — wipe feet etc. entering his dorm … which was a close second to a hurricane-hit shack in appearance — Thank you for your idea — and Best Ever — Al Scaduto.”
Can you believe that? How the man managed to remember that I sent the idea to him months ago was marvel enough in itself. But he also gave me credit for the cartoon which was totally unnecessary since he decided to work it up based on his own experience. The man is a true prince among men — at least out of all of the men who draw cartoons for a living.

Not to ruin any surprises or anything, but I’ve gotten advance notice from enough readers to know that our dominance of TDIET is going to be particularly strong over the next couple of months. I consider the introduction and endearment this feature to my readers to frankly be one of my greatest achievements.

Blondie, 11/26/07

Dagwood is going to get his carpool high.

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Luann, 11/21/07

Pity the poor Luann creative team! In the continuing slow evolution of the strip’s characters, they’ve hit upon a potential gold mind of potential wacky plots: two young men living together, one somewhat impressionable, one somewhat scheming. Normally, you could just lie back and let the hijinks happen. But this is a comic strip that runs in mainstream family newspapers, so all the topics that you’d think of using for this setup — getting girls pregnant, hard drugs, getting into fights, having sex with girls, marijuana, hard liquor, video games, kissing girls, beer, uncleanliness, having physical contact of any sort with girls — are apparently off limits. We’re instead left with TJ’s manic holiday decorating jones, which, while potentially mildly amusing, seems a wee bit out of touch. Couldn’t Santa’s arm fly off in front of some little kids who would then wet their pants in terror at the sight? Oops, pants-wetting: also off-limits, apparently.

Blondie, 11/21/07

This is presumably supposed to be some sort of wry social commentary about how the commercial exploitation of Christmas seems to begin earlier and earlier every year with the stores and the malls and the waddyagonnadoamiright?, but it seems perfectly reasonable to me that desperate food addict Dagwood Bumstead would be so in love with Thanksgiving, a holiday whose main ritual is gluttony, that he’d build a series of twisted idols to it. My only surprise is that the Thanksgiving tree isn’t being trimmed with real edible yams and turkey flesh, to be consumed once everything on the table has been crammed down Dagwood’s ravenous gullet. Elmo, who has long settled into the role of Dagwood’s enabler, wants to know how he can assist with the rampant food worship; only Daisy wordlessly questions the madness.

Family Circus, 11/21/07

A good way to keep Dolly in line is to keep her ignorant of actual theology and just tell her that things that annoy you are sins that will damn her soul to hell for all eternity. Other sins in the Keane household: running in the house, staying up past eight o’clock, talking while mommy and daddy are trying to watch TV, and singing Christmas carols at any time.

Pluggers, 11/21/07

“Wait a minute!” I’m sure you said when you saw Pluggers this morning. “Canada? They don’t have pluggers in Canada! How can pluggers live in the land of Hillarycare and a marriage between a dog-man and a rhino-man? Admittedly, this submission came not from the hot-shot big city of Toronto but rather from some little town called ‘Torono’ that I’ve never heard of, but still … Canada?” Well, fear not for your sense of sanity: Idris Mercer is actually faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader Skullturf Q. Beavispants! I actually remember him mentioning this as a potential Pluggers entry in the comments some months back; I’m sure he’s gratified to see his idea acted out by an obese, flannel-clad semihuman. Not that I don’t fully encourage all of you to keep sending your petty gripes to TDIET (and we have plenty coming up in the next couple of months) but the Pluggers code has been harder to crack, and we must salute Mr. Beavispants as a result.

Unlike those who had their entries employed by TDIET, Skullturf was not contacted and told that his idea would be run, nor was he sent a suitable-for-framing copy of the cartoon, because pluggers don’t expect or deserve that sort of consideration.