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Curtis, 11/9/09

This may not be interesting to anybody else (though really, what’s the point of having a blog if you can’t write about things that aren’t interesting to anybody else?), but I was sort of intrigued by Curtis’s father describing The Day After Tomorrow as a “Dennis Quaid movie.” I mean, yes, Quaid got top billing, but the film featured an ensemble cast, and you certainly wouldn’t call it a Dennis Quaid vehicle. It got me wondering whether films with large casts jockeying for screentime aren’t sort of Rorschach tests, with people seeing as most prominent the actor with whom they have the most in common. So, whereas middle-aged dad Greg Wilkins might call the film a Dennis Quaid movie, younger adults might consider it a Jake Gyllenhaal flick, whereas short sixtysomething Brits would identify it as an Ian Holm film. (As a believer in the auteur theory, I’d call it a Roland Emmerich movie myself, and who else is going out on opening day with me to see 2012, the latest from history’s greatest artiste of delightful computer-generated mass destruction? Anyone? Anyone?)

Getting back to the comic, I’m sort of amused by Curtis’s “Um, yeah” in panel three. “Dad, The Day After Tomorrow was a huge Hollywood blockbuster with an enormous marketing budget, so obviously I saw it. I’m the film industry’s perfect consumer! It’s like they grew me in a lab!”

Shoe, 11/9/09

Have you ever noticed that virtually all of Shoe’s distasteful romantic interludes are depicted as occurring in bars? I’m not just talking about the creepy courtship; even the sort of relationship talks that you’d expect to take place at home, or in the car, or in one of the more secluded booths at Pizza Hut, or really just somewhere that provides a little privacy, are instead aired out with Shoe and some interchangeable member of his cast of soul-deadened lady birds bellied up to the same bar where they presumably first set bleary, bloodshot eyes on one another. It leads one to believe each partner has someone or something at home that much be kept in the dark (e.g., children, spouse) or kept secret (e.g., porn collection, spouse) about/from the other. The logical conclusion is that the entire duration of these ephemeral relationships takes place at smoke-filled watering holes, with the drunken lovers hopefully retiring to the backseat of one of their cars to get it on rather than taking up a valuable toilet stall in the men’s room.

Marvin, 11/9/09

In somehow even more distasteful romantic news, today we learn what odor Marvin finds sexually arousing: the unguent one has smeared on one’s nether parts to soothe rashes caused by sitting in one’s own urine or feces for extended periods of time.

Marmaduke, 11/9/09

Hey, lady, don’t try to impose your square heteronormality on Marmaduke! Unfettered by humanity’s hang-ups, he’s free in his polymorphously perverse state to flirt with either the carefully groomed poodle or the big butch terrier, or both, whatever strikes his fancy. And anyway, this being Marmaduke, he’s probably not planning to “flirt with” anyone so much as to “kill and eat” them.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/9/09

Meanwhile, Wally Winkerbean, his life torn apart by a cruel twist of fate and his mind tortured by traumatic brain injury and PTSD, has decided to drink himself to death. Gonna be a fun week!

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Pluggers, 10/14/09

Oh my goodness, it’s lucky for all of us that pluggers are honest, simple folk who don’t want to make a fuss and certainly don’t go out and “protest injustice” like some kind of God-damned hippie, because otherwise this news would cause every small-to-midsized town in Real America to go up in flames, consumed by riots that make the 1999 Seattle WTO protests look like a garden party. In fact, our spokesdog looks distinctly nervous, as if he’s going to read this communique as quickly as possible and then flee back inside Pluggers HQ so that he won’t be pelted by vegetables. Use the devil’s e-mail? What do you take us for, communists?

Ha ha, I kid! It’s well known that an elite segment of the plugger population has mastered 20th-century technology; now it appears we’ll be getting entries exclusively from these folks until this whole Post Office to-do is worked out. It will be an interesting anthropological study to see if we can detect any difference in the content of the submissions. For instance, will there be fewer cartoons about the difficulties of picking up AM radio broadcasts and more about how none of these newfangled Websites seem to work with Netscape Navigator 4?

(By the way, if the post office where your P.O. Box is closes down, can’t they just forward your mail to your new P.O. Box? Am … am I missing something?)

Mark Trail, 10/14/09

Hey, Sideburned Poacher Dude, I know it’s literally impossible for any character in Mark Trail to refrain from verbalizing his every thought, and I know it’s pretty shocking to see someone who you did an extremely half-assed job of killing still alive, but there’s no need to shout, OK? Mark and Bob are close enough to see your word balloons emerging from the bushes! It’s like you want to get punched in the face!

“HOW DID HE STAY ALIVE?” is now my new go-to exclamation of surprise at the unexpected appearance of my enemies, by the way. “God, look at him … breathing … digesting … refusing to die … how does he do it?”

Curtis, 10/14/09

You know, I give Curtis a lot of crap for being almost unbearably corny — as it has for the last two weeks, say, as Curtis’s dad has complained about someone stealing his delicious tuna-fish sandwich every day from the work fridge, and Curtis has plotted vengeance against those who would harm the Wilkins clan, stealthily replacing today’s sandwich with one made out of cat food. But by God, this strip has some craft. I have to admire the three panels of Curtis’s runaway panic manifesting itself physically — pupils dilating, sweatballs flying, and his finally his lunch attempting to escape his gullet with a mighty BLORK! as he desperately clutches his throat to prevent vomit from staining his beloved red sweatshirt. It made me laugh, even if nothing about the actual plot did.

Blondie, 10/14/09

Ha ha! It’s funny because Alexander’s “girlfriend” is a prostitute!

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Hey, it’s the Comics Curmudgeon Fall Fundraiser — help keep this site strong and independent!

Click the banner above to contribute any amount — and receive your “What Would Margo Do?” bracelet with our thanks! Full details here.

9/23 Fundraiser update: Bracelets are now on the way for Day 2 contributions — FIRST CLASS, just like our generous readers! Thank you!

A plea: If you receive your bracelet today or tomorrow, would you please email a photo of it on your wrist to uncle.lumpy@comcast.net? If I get enough for a collage, I’ll post it Friday — as, I dunno, the “Wrists of Just Us” or something. Thanks!

Crock, 9/23/09

OK, I know this is two Crocks in a week and honestly I’m really sorry but Gaaah! this is the grimmest panel I’ve ever seen, and I read Cathy. The punchline here seems to be “Ha ha you are a slave”, or at best “Ha ha you are a slave so work harder.” It doesn’t look like the soldier is actually confused about his servitude, and if he is, it’s due no doubt to hallucinations from the sunstroke and heat exhaustion that will soon kill him.

Crock’s use of the doomed soldier’s name before his complete objectification and annihilation just twists the knife.

Archie, 9/23/09

I like Archie: it’s kinda sweet and old-timey. Plus, there’s visual madness in the reaction shots from the photograph and the giant Kool-Aid not-quite-emoticon on the CRT. The artists also deliver gratuitous Cammie cheesecake from time to time, and you can almost always tell they’re still trying. But not today, alas — c’mon, if the school paper were already in fact digital, then students couldn’t read it on their phones and you’d have a joke. As it is, you have, well, a perfectly sensible but unfunny editorial. And Doonesbury‘s pretty much got that niche locked up.

Curtis, 9/23/09

Technically speaking, there is a joke in today’s Curtis (“bigger dummy than the dummy”), but let’s watch poor Curtis labor mightily to set it up. Start with panel 1’s Herb and Jamaally intro, already reeking of flop sweat. Then: can’t say “toilet” in a family strip? OK, “down the plumbing!” Need a reference to sexual indiscretion, but it has to be G-rated? OK, how about trying to pick up a mannequin. Obligatory tech reference? YouTube! (What, Twitter’s busy?) Finally, exhausted, Curtis wrestles this steaming gelatinous mass to the finish, and Barry delivers the featherweight punchline. Same time tomorrow, Sisyphus.

Gil Thorp, 9/23/09

OK, this is Duncan Daley, capable but non-flashy Milford tackle (and counterpoint to Jamarr Gaddis, fast but tiny self-promoting wide receiver used to decoy defenders from stolid running back Robb Larue). Formerly a party animal with ready access to his lookalike brother’s ID, Duncan has matured into a focused, R.C.-sipping young adult, no doubt because of what his brother said.

So you don’t have to, faithful reader — so you don’t have to!

Operation H-Town update: Mary Worth, 9/23/09

Well, Officer Colleague has certainly learned a valuable lesson today, hasn’t he? Kids, don’t go calling people “under arrest” until they can no longer shoot at you.

OK OK OK! Detective Scott Hewlett lives to live another day! Check out his prospects at the fabulous Scott’s Drug Bust Pool spreadsheet, created by faithful reader 8th Man Fan. Want a piece of the action? Use the awesome Scott’s Drug Bust Pool Form. Contribute your winnings to the Comics Curmudgeon Fall Fundraiser! And thank you, faithful reader 8th Man Fan!

Margo Moments — a Fall Fundraiser special, part 3

Apartment 3-G (panels) — 12/21/2006, 1/11, 2/27, 4/17, 4/19, 4/26, 7/2, 7/3, 8/3/2007

What would Margo do? The streets of New York are littered with the bones of those who thought they knew! Contribute to The Comics Curmudgeon today, and avoid their fate! When you do, we’ll rush your “What Would Margo Do?” bracelet to you, so you can project the power of Margo — from your wrist, to your hand, to their throats!

— Uncle Lumpy