Post Content

Doodles by Mac & Sack, 2/11/07

I had a minor obsession with Doodles by Mac & Sack in the early days of this blog, which was recently rekindled when I realized that the “Sack” half of this doodling team is one of my favorite political cartoonists. This so-called “kids” Sunday feature still centers on way too much trauma for my taste. Today, having somehow escaped the clutches of a “friendly” boa constrictor, our nameless koala hero must crawl through the acid-drenched intestines of this hideous beast before the digestive process dissolves him into nothingness.

Also, in the “Doodle Zoo”: crossing a monster and a clown? For the love of God, aren’t clowns themselves monstrous enough?

Curtis, 2/11/07

Today’s Curtis illustrates the pitfalls of not following the FBOFW route but instead just keeping your characters the same age indefinitely. Curtis’ dad has, in his socio-cultural tastes and proclivities, been depicted as a typical baby boomer, in love with Motown and funk, and implacably opposed to the “rap” “junk” beloved by his eldest son. That all worked fine when the strip debuted in 1988. Now, nearly twenty years later, Greg would be getting on a bit in years to have come of age during the Temptations’ heyday but still have eleven- and eight-year-old kids. Today, we see that his age is being stealthily advanced; now his cultural tastes were set in what looks to be the late 70s and early 80s, the age of Space Invaders and the embryonic MTV. The problem is that that’s getting perilously close to the birth of hip-hop as a widespread cultural phenomenon; in five years, we may be seeing Mr. Wilkins berate his son with “You call that ‘Compton Kaheem’ junk rap? In my day we had Grandmaster Flash and Run-DMC!” or the like.

Also, as faithful reader AtomicDog and others pointed out, the punchline here is cribbed from a classic Peanuts strip, though in that case the “nyaahs” weren’t directed at Charlie Brown by his own father, which adds a bit of an edge here.

Panels from Judge Parker, 2/11/07

The main point of Sunday’s Judge Parker involves some mysterious, sinister lady in a pillbox hat who will no doubt be featured over and over again saying close variations on the same thing this week, so instead I wanted to focus on the throwaway panels, which offered me a chuckle with their depiction of this trio of North Americans contemplating architecture. “Oh my God, that building is, like, so old! Totally awesome! I bet it’s like, older than, like, my grandma and stuff! It’s so old it doesn’t have a parking lot! Radical!”

I’m not sure how long Neddy has been wearing that beret, but I hope it results in no end of mockery for her at the hands of the Frenchies. Also, Abbey seems to have suddenly transformed into The Mullet Without A Face.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/11/07

Man, words can’t describe the look of shock and horror on Rex’s face in the second panel. I think he heard the word “hard man” and thought for a brief, terrifying moment that June was going to try to initiate sexual relations.

Meanwhile, in the living room, I’m curious as to what direction we’re going with Niki watching Weeds, which, if you don’t know, is a show that centers on a soccer mom played by Mary-Louise Parker who is secretly running a marijuana business in her perfect exurban subdivision. I foresee a number of possibilities:

• “Heh, heh, now that these losers have let me into their home, I’m going to start corrupting their kid! LOSERS!”
• “God damn, this show reminds me of my loser druggie mom and her loser druggie boyfriend. LOSERS!”
• “Hey, my mom’s in the drug trade too, but the chick on this show is attractive and well dressed rather than skanky, and her family lives in an enormous McMansion, not a filthy tenement. LOSER!”
• “Jeez, the Morgans sure have a lot of premium cable channels that show softcore ‘erotic thrillers’ after 10 p.m.”

Post Content

Curtis, 2/10/07

What a roller-coaster ride this week has been in Curtis: from Philly’s own “Compton Kaheem” to drunk, jiggling, syrup covered ladies to the fantastic dancing Nicholas Brothers to Curtis being savagely mauled by vicious dogs. I will ignore the labored and unnatural “I met … I met … we’d like you to meet” set-up so that I can question “Onion”‘s assertion that he needed to get his stomach pumped after accidentally ingesting a little Meow Mix. Cat food is bland and not very nutritious, but it certainly isn’t poisonous. I mean, I ate a whole bag of dog treats when I was a kid, and I came out fine!

What? It was an accident. Honest!

Still and all, if Curtis is killed or at least horribly disfigured by this pit bull attack, it might be adequate punishment for the horror that was “the syrup chapter.”

Mark Trail, 2/10/07

Speaking of labored and unnatural, I’m beginning to suspect that the real name of this feature is Mark Weg in Verlorenem Wald and that the dialogue is all translated on the cheap. I’m pretty baffled by the sentence “Rusty here is the main member of our family … he keeps us all in shape”; I assume it means that Rusty has near-omnipotent powers, like the little kid in the “Put them in the cornfield” episode of the Twilight Zone, and he forces Mark and Cherry to engage in their various inane adventures for his amusement and benefit. Meanwhile, “Sally, the love of my life” sounds to me like a circumlocution that allows Dan to avoid actually describing the nature of their relationship. Presumably, their prudish hosts wouldn’t allow them to share a bedroom if he said “Sally, my latest assistant grifter/sex buddy” or “Sally, a thirty-dollar-a-day hooker I met at a truck stop an hour before we got here.”

Mary Worth, 2/10/07

I like Mary’s self-righteous assertion that helping others is the exclusive province of the young and impoverished, while middle-aged types like Jeff ought to be instead carefully monitoring their investment portfolio so that he can be sure to be able to afford ever larger powerboats and thrice weekly “dates” at the Bum Boat that don’t result in any action. Still, I’m not entirely sure that 21 is the primary age for selflessness. I’d have been much more amused by Mary’s “You’re not twenty-one anymore” plea if she had discovered Jeff sucking Bud Light out of a keg tap while being held upside down by two guys named Chad and “the Gooch”.

Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 2/6/07

Those of you who read Beetle Bailey in black in white in the newspaper, as God intended us to do, were spared from the horrifying and baffling sight of an entirely blue Lt. Fuzz. I mean, forget changing races; our blond-haired junior officer seems to have changed species. The only even vaguely reasonable explanation I can come up with is that this is some kind of comics coloring sweatshop version of day-for-night filming. Some movies that don’t have the budget to properly light night scenes shoot during the day, then run the film through a blue filter to look more like nighttime. (Fans of MST3K will remember Attack Of The The Eye Creatures, a film in which this technique was implemented particularly ineptly.) Apparently someone down at King Features coloring thought that giving Lt. Fuzz a shiny white face would be all wrong for this ill-lit situation, and the only color in the limited palate available that vaguely conveyed a sense of shadowing was this weird blue.

Those of you who read Beetle Bailey in black in white in the newspaper were not distracted by this puzzle from the “punchline,” which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense no matter how much you look at it, so we online types got let off pretty easy.

Curtis, 2/6/07

Some have claimed that my Curtis geography lesson yesterday was misplaced, and that the idea of “Compton Kaheem” being from Philly is actually part of the joke. I’m still dubious, but I am sharp enough to realize that this strip is setting us up for a punchline tomorrow. Still, almost everything about it is stunningly loathsome. The elder Wilkins’ creepy mechanical laugh (not the first time it’s appeared in this strip), his little sing-songy invitation to his 11-year-old son to watch a little soft-core human degradation, said 11-year-old’s clench-fistedly eager anticipation of same with his dad sitting there behind him, the very idea of a “syrup chapter” of the venerable Girls Gone Wild franchise … I’m frankly having a hard time thinking of anything that might happen tomorrow that could redeem this, except perhaps the entire human race being wiped out by an asteroid.

Mark Trail, 2/6/07

Ah, Mark! For a man so in touch with the natural world, you sure do talk like an android. I’d love to hear Mark talk about some fishing stories. “There was this one fishing story, I used to tell it to Cherry when we were first dating. Rusty loves that story! His little face just lights up and he says, ‘Tell it again, Mark, tell it again!’ Excitable little kid. Yup, that sure is a great story. Then there’s this other fishing story I like to tell…”

The Phantom, 2/6/07

For those of you not in the know, “Bandar medicine” is the Phantom and Guran’s little code phrase for roofies. I have no idea how they think that’s going to help, unless “ill” is code for something I don’t even want to know about.

Gil Thorp, 2/6/07

Speaking of people going, having gone, or being about to go wild, those boys don’t look like they’re going anywhere near wild in panel two. There are entirely too many clothes, for one thing. And not nearly enough syrup.