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Momma, 1/14/11

It’s been a long time since I’ve checked in with Momma’s passive-aggressive, vaguely incestuous stylings, and today’s entry is so delightfully absurd that I hesitate to try “explain” what it might “mean.” Are we to imagine that Francis has stuffed his nice hat so full of clothes that it has ridiculously stretched out? Or that Momma, in her dotage, went all knit-crazy and made a ludicrously oversized hat for her son? Or that Francis, having long ago traded away the precious maternal keepsake for beer or whatever, just tells the first improbable lie that comes into his head, betting that his mother’s senility will cause her to quickly forget exactly what they’re talking about?

Also, this strip reaffirms my firm belief that black and white strips should not be colored in, because that allows me to imagine, based on the vague patterns visible, that Momma has knitted Francis some kind of oversized rasta hat.

Mary Worth, 1/14/11

A quick visit to the Website of the Four Seasons Bora Bora reveals that it is (a) awesome and (b) the equivalent of about $650 a night, so Jill’s guilt over a little light drunken rehearsal-dinner-ruining must have been quite acute. But I’m less interested in what Jill hocked to pay for this craziness (assuming she just didn’t create fake “vouchers” in Photoshop) and more interested in Adrian and Scott’s wildly different reactions. Remember, Scott was the one who suggested a honeymoon at the local Motel 6, while Adrian longed for an exotic voyage; so why is Scott grinning with manic intensity at the thought of sun and fun in the South Pacific, while Adrian is about to vomit in terror?

Curtis, 1/14/11

We’ve finally arrived at the lesson of this year’s Kwanzcaapade in Curtis, which appears to be: there’s nothing we can’t achieve if we work together a species, so long as we can just go back in time and correct all our mistakes.

Gasoline Alley, 1/14/11

With his pleas to his God having been rejected with contempt, Slim has quickly turned to nihilism. “Really, honey, in 100 years we’ll all be dead. All of us, just marching inexorably towards the grave, and nobody will remember we ever existed. Why bother? Why bother doing anything?”

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Curtis, 1/7/11

Ha ha, yes, this — this — is what we tune into the annual Curtis Kwanzgaasm for. An eight-limbed dinosaur-like beast with spider-like hind-legs and a dolphin-style tail? Oh, and also, it has no eyes on its head, But it does have a freaky secondary face on its chest, with two eyes perched above a vestigial nose and then another terrifying eye where its mouth should be? Yes, yes, and yes. And now to see what this horrible thing — aw, it killed an adorable doggie? God damn it, this is the worst Kwanzaa ever.

Spider-Man, 1/7/11

Remember a few weeks ago, when Aunt May was captured by the Mole Man and whisked off to his underground kingdom? Well, here we go again! I’d actually love it if Spider-Man just kept repeating the same events: Aunt May is kidnapped by some monstrous being who lives closer to the Earth’s center then wherever she happens to be at the moment; although she’s at first terrified, she eventually comes to see the creature’s inner beauty, and agrees to marry it right around the time Spider-Man manages to organize a half-assed rescue attempt. A clergyman is produced, and then, just as the ceremony gets underway, with a mighty rumble a beastly hand or tentacle or claw or something bursts through the floor, snatches her off, and begins the cycle anew. This process continues until eventually the extreme heat and pressure of the Earth’s core kills everyone involved, much to the general relief of the readership.

Marmaduke, 1/7/11

Unable to end Marmaduke’s reign of flesh-eating terror through military means, the government is attempting to cut off his financing.

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/4/11

Some of my comics obsessions — like Margo Magee’s smoldering, angry sexuality, for instance, or Mark Trail’s cheerful, violent autism — are amusing. (I assume you agree because you are after all reading this site.) However, I’m the first to admit that some of my other obsessions are just weird and sad. For instance, I’m kind of fixated on how the economy of Hootin’ Holler, the setting for Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, operates. We see very little by way of economically productive activity; the women engage in some subsistence agriculture, while the men mostly laze about and occasionally steal things. Yet the characters are shown to be at least dimly aware of money as a medium of exchange, and have some access to manufactured goods. How exactly do the inhabitants gain access to this money? Do they export things? If so, what? Chickens? Moonshine? Labor? Do the more industrious Hootin’ Hollerians head down to the flatlands to work in mines or factories for a pittance, saving money by living together in dilapidated shacks and sending cash back home to keep women and layabouts alive?

Today’s strip is particularly interesting from this perspective, as we are shown an intriguing phenomenon that can happen at the fringes of a developed economy. Loweezy is planning on engaging in barter to gain access to medical services, as is traditional in her community; however, instead of trading livestock she raised herself, she uses processed foodstuff that comes from outside the zone of local production, foodstuff that can only be produced by cultures with a much higher level of economic activity than Hootin’ Holler itself can sustain. This demonstrates that a strictly linear model of economic development rarely applies in reality, as not even the poorest and least developed communities exist in total isolation from the outside world.

That having been said, I think we can all agree that this comic would have been better if Loweezy had been offering the doctor butchered pig parts, possibly still dripping gore, especially if the medico’s grin and “gimmie gimmie” gesture remained in place.

Shoe, 1/4/11

Another thing I spend too much time thinking about is the configuration of characters required to set up the jokes in Shoe. I’m assuming that the strip began with the joke, and then two characters were sought out who might plausibly offer each half of it — notorious vice addict Shoe and naive child Skyler, in this case, never mind that generally the two of them have no real reason to interact within the strip. Is Skyler doing a report for school on comparative mammalian locomotion? Does Treetops lack a public library, forcing him to head down to the local newspaper, the one source of knowledge in the town? Don’t these birds have access to the Internet? If not, the Treetops Tattler’s decision to acquire the TreetopsTattler.com domain was extremely ill-conceived.

Herb and Jamaal, 1/4/11

Yes, there’s very little more embarrassing than your mother seeing you naked, and then dragging out the photo albums to show your best friend all the naked pictures of you she still has on hand.

Apartment 3-G, 1/4/11

I’m less surprised that Margo is watching the ball drop alone than I am surprised that she’s watching it on January 4. I guess she recorded it on the TiVo that she’s got hooked up to her 13-inch black-and-white TV.

Curtis, 1/4/11

Not satisfied with ruining Kwanzaa with a depressing tale about unemployment, Curtis has upped its game: our saintly hero asked a magic mouse for world peace, and the mouse responded by wiping out all human life. Ironic genocide is, of course, the best kind of genocide.