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Zits, 3/11/08

Today’s Zits disturbed and horrified me — not, I hasten to add, because there’s something wrong with a woman of a certain age (or any age, for that matter) dancing around in such a fashion as to cause her bosoms to jiggle and sway. No, my gripe is in how said breasts are depicted. The rightmost Connie is depicted frozen in a moment in time and leaning back, presumably as she dances to the music; in a world governed by the laws of physics as I understand them, her breasts should themselves be at the top of their gentle arc, perhaps raised up a bit from the rest of her chest. Instead, they appear to be wriggling around as she stands motionless, as if they were the tentacles around the mouth-parts of Cthulu, an illusion made all the more real by the fact that there seem to be six of them. If I saw such a thing on the front of any human female, let alone my mother, I too would beg for hysterical blindness.

Cathy, 3/11/08

Speaking of nameless horrors, there’s something unsettling about today’s Cathy, and not in the usual way, either. What exactly does Irving mean by “a person like you”? And why is Cathy standing in front of some kind of inky black portal in the final panel? “I know! That’s why I can’t go back!” she proclaims, terrified of the unspoken but no doubt awful fate that awaits her at the demonic so-called “gym”. But it doesn’t matter that she refuses to go — the darkness is looming behind her, threatening to swallow her up.

For Better Or For Worse, 3/11/08

Man, check out Liz’s face in that final panel. She looks pretty pleased with herself, doesn’t she? Remember, fellas: Nothing can bring a woman to orgasm faster than explaining carefully, with careful attention to the grammatical case of your relative pronouns, that you respect and value and her autonomy.

Meanwhile, Anthony is driving ever closer to the secluded clearing where he disposes of the bodies.

Dennis the Menace, 3/11/08

This may seem on the surface to be more run-of-the-mill submenacing, but what if by “I beat the sun up again” Dennis means not “I woke up before sunrise” but “I bested the sun in hand-to-hand combat”? You have to admit that if an eight-year-old kid managed to pummel our sun, which is 800,000 miles in diameter and has surface temperature of 9 million degrees, into submission, that would be pretty menacing — both because it would be a bad-ass achievement in and of itself and because it would send our planet’s temperature plunging close to absolute zero, killing all life on its surface. Henry and Alice will barely have time to bestir themselves before the very atmosphere freezes solid!

Herb and Jamaal, 3/11/08

I have to admit that I find the little puff of smoke hovering over the toaster in the first two panels of this strip totally adorable! It’s like the toaster is angry! Possibly because it has to just sit there and listen to this ancient, horrible joke.

Crankshaft, 3/11/08

Ha ha, the old lady slipped on the ice, probably seriously injuring herself! Man, I can’t wait to see how this barrel of laughs develops.

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Gil Thorp, 2/20/08

Today new Gil Thorp artist Frank Bolle met his first real challenge. I’m not talking about panel one, in which three Lady Mudlark hoopers decide, in the apparent total absence of an opposing team, to play against one another; and I’m not talking about panel two, which depicts Lisa Wyche apparently being dropped from a great height directly onto her wrist. Those are just par for the course over at Gil Thorp headquarters. No, just as Eduardo Barreto’s trial by fire at Judge Parker came when he first grappled with Abbey Spencer’s sexy red mullet, so Bolle must eventually confront Gil’s epic flattop head-on. And … it’s a punt! It’s only your third day, so we’ll let it slide, Frank, but you can’t hide behind word balloons forever.

I’m not sure I approve of Gil’s new face — not angular enough, and a little too much like Robert Mitchum and/or Rock Hudson, as several commentors noted. I do, however, approve of Mimi buttoning up what appears to be one of Gil’s shirts, implying that we’ve just missed some red-hot Coach-Thorp-on-Coach-Thorp action. During which, apparently, they were talking about Lisa Wyche’s wrist injury. Obviously.

Marvin, 2/20/08

So, earlier this week we learned that Marvin’s mom is unable to continue her career as a romance novelist because caring for Marvin has left her unable to even imagine what passion and sexuality might be like. (By the way, did any of you know that Marvin’s mom was supposed to be a writer? I didn’t, and I’ve read the strip every damn day for the last two and a half years.) As a result, she’s given up on the romance genre and instead decided to churn out a series of pregnancy-themed sub-Foxworthyisms called “Belly Laffs.” In an act that profoundly blurs the line between narrative structure and narrative content, the Marvin strip itself will similarly follow her down the road towards an easy paycheck; in the first entry in the series, the strip boldly proclaims its intention to phone it in by showcasing not one but two panels consisting a pregnant woman from the neck down and nothing else.

By the way, anyone who’s see Marvin in action knows that Jenny drank while pregnant, and heavily.

Dennis the Menace, 2/20/08

I know it’s one of my jokes that Dennis isn’t very menacing these days, but at least once a week I goggle at his completely nonthreatening antics — he pushes “the best things in life are free” treacle! he offers seminars on Polynesian sociolinguistics! he launches public health campaigns! — and I think, “OK, that’s it. He absolutely, positively, can not get any less menacing than this.” Then, of course, came the Star Wars cosplay.

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Archie, 2/1/08

Uh-oh, looks like the Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000 has found a way to connect its cybernetic consciousness to broadcast TV! How else can we explain the grotesquely overwrought mugging for the “camera” in panels one and three? The AJGLU 3000 must think we organic consciousnesses live our lives out in some sort of awful state of constant performance, always exaggerating our reactions to everyday events to amuse an unseen chorus of canned laughter that chortles at our hoary jokes and slow burns. No wonder it holds us in such obvious contempt.

Dennis the Menace, 2/1/08

I know that it makes me both a crude and a bad person, but I find something distinctly but nonspecifically dirty (in the “dirty joke” sense) about today’s Dennis the Menace caption. Joey appears to be trying to wrap his tiny little brain about just what exactly it might mean.

Apartment 3-G, 2/1/08

Hey, Alan, that’s just the sort of thing that some of us are into, OK?

Speaking of things that some of us are into, Blaze has been looking resplendent in his dusty rose/baby blue westernwear combination for the past few days. It’s as if the artist sent a note to the coloring crew saying, “I know we already named him ‘Blaze’ and have him walking around New York dressed as a cowboy for no good reason, but could you make it a little more … obvious?”

Mary Worth, 2/1/08

This is one of the most vile, disgusting, and repugnant things I’ve ever seen in all my years of reading Mary Worth. Honestly, the nerve of these people, putting this in the newspaper where children can see it. Don’t they know that Ryan is Vera’s boss, thus making their relationship intradepartmental dating, not interdepartmental dating? I mean, good gracious!

The implication that days at the Affect Advertising Agency are little more than nonstop orgies, on the other hand, is all good fun. We really should have expected it, anyway, what with Vera’s first day consisting mostly of grab-ass.

Spider-Man, 2/1/08

So, Spider-Man is using an jailed criminal associate of Simon Krandis as bait to attract the Persuader’s attention, making appear as if he (the criminal associate) was being shuttled to the governor for a pardon. Naturally, the Persuader pulled a sixteen-wheeler in front of the van in which said prisoner was being transported and then sucked the van into the trailer using powerful magnets. And now Spidey claims that this is “just what [he] expected.” Uh huh.

I don’t mean to doubt the word of superheroes or anything, but nothing I’ve seen out of Peter Parker has indicated particular cunning or intelligence. This is a guy who forgets that he has his costume on under his clothes when he goes to the doctor, who forgets that his costume is in his luggage when traveling through airport security, and who thinks that his wife making lots of money as a movie star is a bad thing. Thus, I’m going to guess that he did not in fact predict the magnetized kidnapping of this van, which is quite honestly the most surprising thing to happen in this strip in the past year and a half. His bizarre stab at punnery in panel two — “Let the good times roll! … just like, um, we were, rolled into this truck? Get it?” — is a mask for his total state of flabbergasted surprise. Those wavy lines aren’t his raging spider-sense; they’re ordinary human panic.

Mark Trail, 2/1/08

Speaking of stupid people, Mark sure watched that plane (whose passengers just shot at him mere moments ago, let me remind you) get all North By Northwesty for quite a while before deciding to jump for it. Andy looks to be a bit farther out of the capsizing canoe than Mark; I’d like to believe that he leapt out before his master’s beyond obvious command, and will now run for the forest without a care for how his dim bulb owner made out.