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Crock, 7/6/09

When you have a narrative form like a syndicated comic strip that runs on and on for decades, there are some interesting results. For instance, there may be features of your strip’s universe that made some sort of sense, or were at least explained, at the time of their introduction, but which have either slowly mutated with time or had all knowledge of their significance lost, and whose existence today is taken as a given by all concerned despite their baffling nature. Take, for instance, today’s Crock. Obviously the presence of tiny hotboxes just outside the Legion’s fort, in which prisoners condemned for some forgotten crime sit hunched over day after day for years, slowly going mad from the hot sun and the isolation, is easily parsed. But why exactly are the sides of these portable torture chambers marked with giant keyholes? Wouldn’t the key required to operate such a lock be over three feet long? Wouldn’t the mechanism for such a lock intrude onto the prisoner’s already miniscule living space? Is it perhaps not a real lock at all, but just some sort of symbol of the State’s ability to imprison on a whim, and indefinitely? Perhaps this reminds the cook of his complicity in the workings of this monstrous dictatorship, which would explain his otherwise baffling anger at having to walk approximately five feet outside to dump some greyish glop into the prisoner’s bowl.

Gil Thorp, 7/6/09

Oh, Gil, if you’re going to openly acknowledge what I asserted last week — that summertime is for wackiness in Gil Thorp — then you’d better be prepared to follow through on your promise, or you’ll just break my heart all the more. Gil having lunch with vintage clothing aficionado and former teen hobo Ted Pearse is a good start; having some kind of gangland shooting happen right outside the Thorps’ front door (involving Marty Moon? please?) is even better.

Mary Worth, 7/6/09

You know, every once in a while even Mary Worth can surprise me. For instance, yesterday I could have only thought of two possible outcomes to Mary’s weeks-long attempt to browbeat Delilah back into her loveless marriage: acquiescence or suicide. Never did I imagine that she had the strength of will to shrug off the onslaught, put on her sexiest/most insane halter top-yellow fishnets combo, and go cruising the Charterstone grounds for all her ex-boyfriends, determined to rip their stripey shirts off and have her way with them right there on the concrete (which is already cracking only a few years after it was poured, thanks to Mary’s insistence that they go with the lowest bidder). Mary looks like she’s having a stroke in the second panel, and why wouldn’t she: she’s discovered someone immune to her meddling powers! I’m surprised she isn’t just melting into a puddle.

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Spider-Man, 6/7/09

My only experience with beloved Marvel Comics character/franchise/cash cow/fetish object Wolverine comes from watching the first two X-Men movies, so I’m very much looking forward to getting lots of huffy blowback for making fun of what I don’t understand as the beclawèd one slums his way through the Spider-Man newspaper strip. My first big laugh came with Spidey’s thought ballooning, in which he wonders why Wolverine hasn’t stayed in the limitless wide-open spaces of Westchester County (population: 923,459; population density, 1,847 people per square mile). “Wolverine doesn’t think the cultural attractions, amazing nightlife, and youthful energy of New York make up for the high rents, crowding, and dicey public schools! He prefers ample parking, neatly trimmed lawns, and chain restaurants to public transit, high rises, and hole-in-the-wall ethnic joints — just like a real wolverine!”

Of course, as Mark Trail has taught us, real Wolverines do need to come into human settlements to steal weapons, which may offer a clue to Wolverine’s intentions in Manhattan.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 6/7/09

Poor Uriah looks more panicked to be seized bodily than one would expect if the upshot will just be a little impromptu umpiring. I thus assume that the dialogue has been bowdlerized by the syndicate editors in the final panel, with “Shanghai ya into bein’ thar ump” replacing “slice ya up as an off’ring to thar pagan god” and “Play ball!!” replacing “Soon our holy altar will steam with sacrificial blood!!”

Crock, 6/7/09

It should come as little surprise that characters in the poorly drawn hell-world of Crock would choose the easy way out: suicide.

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Crock, 6/2/09

While I do not begrudge anyone a good ass-looking, I strenuously object to sexuality of any sort being discussed in the mangled world of Crock. Today’s panel has a little something for everyone. Longtime readers of the strip will, from long familiarity with all of these hateful characters, object to any of them contemplating eroticism of any sort, as it is better than any of them deserve. Naïfs just stumbling onto the strip by fateful accident will be traumatized to think that anyone would put the words “Maggot has better buns” in that particular sequence. And those of a philosophical bent can contemplate the quality scale on which one is expected to assess buns, if not their packaging.

On an unsettling art note, it appears that the artist seems to have long forgotten that Grossie is supposed to be wearing a niqab, and, apparently relying only on drawings of her from the front as a guide, has executed this profile shot under the assumption that her nose is two different colors.

Gil Thorp, 6/2/09

How to explain this: I think, somewhere in the bowels of the rapidly crumbling print newspaper industry, someone got wind of the fact there was a daily narrative feature, with pictures, half of the characters in which are physically fit teenage girls. “We need to play up the sex appeal!” came the barked orders of someone who’s spent the last decade fighting a holding action against Craigslist. And so Gil Thorp, confused but eager for relevance, lurched into action, swinging away from the “OH MY GOD THE FACEBOOK” story it had been following in a sort of desultory fashion and leaping at “sexy girls try on each other’s swimsuits SEXXXY!” This being Gil Thorp, of course, it will be awkward and uncomfortable-making, though on the bright side it will involve very little Shep Trumbo, unless things go horribly awry.

Archie, 6/2/09

Good lord, the mini-Archies are proliferating! If Jughead’s Archiform marionette weren’t unsettling enough, we now know that Betty has a plush li’l Archie to console herself with when Archie is off marrying Veronica for her money or whatever. More concerning to me, however, is how committed Archie is to leaning smugly while talking on his cell phone, even when there doesn’t actually appear to be anything for him to lean against. His pose in panel three, with one foot on the ladder, one foot hanging in empty space, one hip vaguely rested against a thin shelf, and one elbow stuck out into mid-air, is a workplace injury and subsequent worker’s comp claim waiting to happen, the paperwork for which will make Archie’s supervisor regret his decision to quit his job as a Tom of Finland character.