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Hi and Lois, 10/8/22

A fun fact is that the Major League Baseball postseason expanded to a multi-round playoff format in 1969, and there’s no timeline where Hi and Lois are middle-aged parents of a teen and infant in the year 2022 but they were also alive then, which means that Lois is engaging in some nostalgia for a constructed past she can’t even personally remember. “Oh, I wish I lived back in the 1950s or ’60s, when men paid attention to their wives instead of dumb old sports!” she thinks, in one of the most impressively delusional episodes I’ve seen in a syndicated newspaper comic strip.

Gasoline Alley, 10/8/22

Gasoline Alley has spent weeks now, like genuine weeks, my God it’s gone on forever, on this boogie-woogie piano guy, and I get the feeling that he’s a real person or closely based one, but honestly I cannot summon the energy to figure out who. Anyway, as the one strip I deigned to share with you should indicate, his whole deal is about how playing music is a fun, joyful activity for everyone! Thank goodness Rufus and Joel are here to remind you that the real world of music is brutal and violent, and no place for children or the weak.

Daddy Daze, 10/8/22

LOOK THIS BABY DOES NOT KNOW WORDS, LET ALONE LETTERS. HE IS NOT MAKING UP NEW LETTERS. HE JUST ISN’T.

I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS CHARADE ANY LONGER. GOOD DAY TO YOU ALL

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Blondie, 9/28/22

Look, I don’t want to dwell on the technical details here, which seem to be based on the misconception that “well you look at Instagram on your phone so your account must be on your phone somewhere.” I instead want to engage with this strip on a narrative level. What exactly is the dangerous stalker planning to do with Elmo’s account? Post declarations of love from him to her? Send poison pen DMs to his friends and her potential romantic rivals? This is a significant escalation from snarky emojis and honestly he should be telling his parents about it, not some random unrelated neighbor-adult who sees the story primarily as being about the Kids Today, Who Are Not As Good As We Were When We Were Kids.

Daddy Daze, 9/28/22

Wait, did we know that the Daddy Daze daddy’s goth friend’s son was a teen? This is really opening up a lot of fun possibilities, honestly. I can’t decide if this kid is himself a goth, like a mini-me version of his dad, or instead has gone full on jock or preppie, as an act of defiance. Anyway, check out panel four here, where the dude has decided that blinding himself with scalding hot coffee is the logical next step in his story.

Hi and Lois, 9/28/22

Absolutely love that Hi has decided to rebel against the total overload we’re facing in the age of Too Much Streaming Content by engaging with the world as he assumes our primitive ancestors did: by reading a print magazine about golf. It’s clear from his facial expression that it didn’t work, but I’m proud of him for making the attempt.

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Daddy Daze, 9/27/22

The lure of doing a comic strip about a baby is eternal, but of course each generation will do their own particular version reflecting their ethos, worldview, and material conditions; and the fact that a syndicated comic strip is essentially a lifelong sinecure lets us contrast the varying generational attitudes directly against one another. Take Marvin, for instance: launched in 1982, as the Baby Boom generation was coming into its own and America was shaking off its post-Vietnam malaise, its title character represents the bold and unapologetic national attitude of the era: yes, Marvin shits and pisses himself constantly, and no he won’t apologize for it or learn how to stop. It’s someone else’s problem and the thought of them dealing with it makes him smile!

The Daddy Daze baby, on the other hand, is a creature of our current neurotic age. Like Marvin, he is unable to prevent himself from befouling his diaper several times a day, but his usual gleeful mania is actually just a pose, masking a deep, gnawing anxiety about all the pooping and the peeing. He knows he’s disgusting and he desperately wants to learn to use a toilet, but also knows that, as a baby in a syndicated comic strip, he’s never going to reach that promised land and well just be stewing in his own waste for all eternity.

Gasoline Alley, 9/27/22

Say what you will about Gasoline Alley, and lord knows I’ve said a lot, but it remains a piece of true outsider art that’s somehow pumped into the reading lists of surviving loyal newspaper readers across the English-speaking world. Can you imagine tricking major publishers into printing the sentence “Blimey, my red sock has entangled itself betwixt the keys and rendered me immobile for the moment” in thousands of newspapers as some sort of avant-garde action, or maybe as a prank? Of course not, and yet everyone involved in the process that produced this strip thinks it’s normal, wholesome fun. No, I am absolutely not going to explain what’s happening here, by the way, you don’t need to know and don’t particularly want to, trust me.

Gil Thorp, 9/27/22

No! No! We cannot lose Coach Kaz! I don’t care if the Time Corps has recruited him as an agent in our nation’s shadowy war against those who would alter the space-time continuum — we need his antics in Milford!

Funky Winkerbean, 9/27/22

My immediate reaction to the first panel of this strip is that Jessica wanted Darrin to somehow make the gun that Plantman used to murder her father into a plaything for their son. But then, based on everyone’s facial expressions, by the end of the strip I decided she actually wanted it made into some sort of sex toy. I’m not well, but in my defense, neither is Funky Winkerbean.