Post Content

Ziggy, 4/30/11

This Ziggy really just raises a lot more questions than it answers. What is the nature of this “phony,” exactly? Is it a mere stuffed horse, which stands there unmoving, thus providing a singularly unimpressive “ride,” even at the very low proposed price? Or is that a horse costume, with someone inside of it? Either way, is there some significance to the long, lush lashes on the phony’s eyes, which is generally cartoon shorthand for “sexy lady”? And what are we to make of the smiling, guileless expression on face of the phony’s handler? The level of unseemly horror lurking just below the surface of this Ziggy panel is really off the charts.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/30/11

Funky Winkerbean similarly seems to promise some hidden payoff that doesn’t quite come into focus. Are we meant to contrast the present day, when technology is a deadly serious part of even the smallest business’s operations, with the gentler decades past, when nefarious computers were restricted only to video gaming? Or maybe there isn’t any point here at all. Maybe Montoni just got tired of talking to Funky about this computer business, went downstairs, and blew off some steam by playing video games, wiling away the hours before his inevitable tragic death.

Dennis the Menace, 4/30/11

Chicks dig it when a dude just insouciantly chugs down a frosty drink and then stone cold throws the glass on the floor, because he just doesn’t give a shit. Mrs. Wilson knows the score!

Post Content

Dennis the Menace, 4/24/11

Let’s start Easter with a little bit of theology! In the throwaway panels, Dennis appears to flirt with a rejection of the idea that a human institution is necessary to mediate between humanity and God. Nevertheless, upon actually going to church, he proceeds to taunt Mr. Wilson over the latter’s spotty attendance over the year. Mr. Wilson fumes nastily over the wrath that Dennis will encounter on the Day of Judgment. The conundrum thus proposed seems to be: Whom would God favor? One who, like Dennis, offers worship to the Lord in the approved fashion, only to go home and wreak all kinds of devilish mischief; or one who perhaps does not take communion that often, but who at least upholds the divine commandments, if only because of his sullen refusal to leave his house or do much of anything else? Mr. Wilson can take comfort in I Samuel 15:22: “And Samuel said, Hath the LORD as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the LORD? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice.” Since the obedience under discussion here was a divine order to exterminate the tribe of the Amalkites, this should dovetail nicely with that killing spree one assumes the tightly wound Mr. Wilson has planned.

Gasoline Alley, 4/24/11

Speaking of theology, our minister here should perhaps spend more time working on his metaphors, as I don’t think it’s really a good idea to compare God to the collapsing airline industry, which has cut back on the little perks of flying, charging nickel-and-dime fees while cramming ever more passengers into aging aircraft; the monopolistic utility corporations, which belch pollution into the air while jacking up electricity rates; or to prescription medication, often rushed to market by profit-driven megacorporations with deadly results. I guess people like greeting cards and scotch tape alright, though, right? I mean, not enough to worship them or anything, but still.

Dick Tracy, 4/24/11

If you were somehow worried that the new author-artist team behind Dick Tracy would downgrade our daily dose of violence of horror, I think you can rest easy now. Baddies vaporizing cops while declaring that they love “roast pig” isn’t even the most unsettling thing on display today; that honor of course goes to the terrified medical personnel fleeing whatever nightmarish creature longtime Dick Tracy fixture B.O. Plenty (reading Spittoon Quarterly, God bless him) has sired on his poor wife.

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 4/7/11

Abandoned by her roommates, Margo is forced to bathroom on her own! That’s kind of an oddly drawn toilet brush; at first glance, I thought it might be some sort of archaic feathery masturbatory aid, but surely Margo is far too self-actualized to refer to self-pleasure as “dirty work.” Anyway, whether we’re talking cleaning the commode or rubbing one out, Margo doesn’t need to do it because Trey’s shown up. Have fun, Trey! Hope you don’t have to go to the bathroom, I hear it’s gross.

Mark Trail, 4/7/11

The Mark Trail drug-smuggling plot has ended rather anticlimactically, with Mark guiding his stolen plane to a nearby commercial airport, dropping off his escapee passengers, and he idle small talk with his government handler, who I assume had written him off for dead weeks ago. “Oh, hey,” he remarks casually, “there’s an island within a day’s boat-drift of U.S. soil where a narcotics kingpin rules with an iron fist and keeps people as slaves. You might want to look into that or whatever.”

I also look forward to the confused encounter between Lonnie and the Coast Guard that will result from Mark’s brush-off in panel two. “Your family? Uh … do they live near a coast?”

Dennis the Menace, 4/7/11

Ha ha, this is exactly the sort of thing that would normally send Mr. Wilson into a rage! But his pupils are invisible because his eyes are rolled back behind his drooping eyelids, indicating that he’s been in a dissociated state for hours. If Mrs. Wilson wants to call that “senility,” that’s fine, I guess; whatever keeps him out of her hair, amiright?