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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

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Archie, 8/22/09

Friends, Romans, comics-lovers, I come to praise the AJGLU-3000 today, not to bury it in scorn! I admit to feeling a frisson of compassion for Mr. Lodge, as his anxious loathing of Archie has reached such a level of intensity as to somehow create some sort of psychic link between the amiable everyteen and Riverdale’s richest man. Just as Harry Potter’s scar surges with pain when his evil nemesis Lord Voldemort is plotting something, so too does Mr. Lodge break out into an anxious sweat whenever the Andrews boy approaches his palatial compound, the route the lad is taking towards shameless moochery off the Lodge fortune burning brightly in his mind. He’s so distracted that he can’t even focus on the financial news, which includes a feature on how the current financial crisis has ruined fellow cartoon plutocrat Rich Uncle Pennybags.

For my money, though, the most intriguing aspect of this cartoon is the way that the Lodge manservant (this is Archie, home of the most painfully obvious nomenclature in English-language literature outside of Pilgrim’s Progress, so I’m pretty sure his name is Jeeves) is lurking half-heartedly in the third panel. I’m not sure if he’s supposed to be hiding himself at the edge of the doorway so as to leap out and bludgeon his employer’s teenage tormentor to death at an opportune moment, or if he’s just realized that he needs to lean over a bit to be visible in the frame, so it doesn’t look like Mr. Lodge is rambling insanely to nobody in particular.

Curtis, 8/22/09

If you were going to start running Curtis in your newspaper and felt like you needed to offer a quick primer on the feature to your readers, you could hardly do better than today’s installment. About two-thirds of the strip’s themes — Curtis doesn’t want his dad to smoke, Curtis likes a girl who can’t stand him, Curtis is emotionally manipulative, Curtis wants money — are packed into just four panels. Add “Barry is even more manipulative” and “Every Kwanzaa the strip goes on a delightfully entertaining two-week long mescaline binge” and you’re all set.

Mark Trail, 8/22/09

So, after investigating environmental misdeeds, witnessing an attempted murder, and then tracking down an assassin, vigilante-style, Mark has turned matters over to … the Department of Homeland Security? Sure, why not. I was going to smugly go on about how ludicrous this was, but DHS is such a huge, baffling catch-all bureaucracy that it may in fact have some kind of division responsible for organized crime intimidation related to illegal disposal of toxic waste for all I know.

I’m sort of impressed by the way the Sheriff Whosit’s word balloon emerges from more or less the same spot in both panels, even though the second is the usual Mark Trail extreme critter close-up. It’s as if the first panel were shot through some sort of x-ray telephoto lens, and then the second was taken after the camera zoomed all the way out but remained otherwise stationary.