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Judge Parker, 1/5/08

And so the Tale of How Sam Came This Close To Having Sex With His Wife ends in unconsciousness. It’s likely that Abbey’s narcotic-fueled mania has finally and abruptly dissipated, though we can’t rule out the possibility that the mere thought of carnal relations with her husband simply bored her so much that she passed out. This strip is notable for its Extra Gratuitousness Action: Not only is Abbey sporting what may be the most form-fitting robe ever worn by someone who hasn’t been hosed down in preparation for a Maxim photo shoot, but Sam Driver is is also showing off the sort of ripped bod that only a grueling, desk-bound legal career with occasional travel for business purposes can produce. You know, I used to take my shirt off pretty much like that because I liked to pretend that I was a superhero changing into my costume. I was eight at the time. I’m not sure what Sam’s excuse is.

I’m going to continue with my tradition of questioning how sincere Sam and Abbey’s desire to screw is by pointing out that they own a compound so extensive that it requires a team of servants to manage properly; thus, I don’t buy the whole “we never get a chance to have sex because we never have the place to ourselves” excuse. The wing where the kids live is probably further away from their bedroom than my local grocery store is from mine.

I feel compelled to point out Abbey’s blacked-out face in panel one. I’m sure it’s a product of the infelicitous meeting of color and black-and-white that afflict all the online King Features strips, but it honestly gives me the creeps.

Dennis the Menace, 1/5/08

How to be menacing: Another installment in an occasional series

• Not menacing: “The best thing about snowballs is that they’re free!”
• Menacing: “The best thing about snowballs is that, if you pack enough ice into them and throw them at somebody’s face, you can permanent scar them or even put out an eye! For free!”

Ziggy, 1/5/08

Sometimes a strip as been around for years and years and you think you’ve got a handle on it, but suddenly it manages to surprise you — or, in this case, surprise and horrify. Why has Ziggy abandoned its usual aesthetic of outline drawings and tons of white space and decided to confront us with every greasy, curly hair on the forearms and neck of this belligerent restaurateur? To say nothing of the blemishes on his nose that could be either pimples (the result of 12-hour days spent being splattered with hot grease from his filthy grill) or burst blood vessels (the product of a combination of alcoholism and constant rage)? This must remain forever a creative mystery from the whimsical world of the funny pages.

Pluggers, 1/5/08

Pluggers are unable to save adequately for retirement, and will thus spend most of their waking hours engaged in soul-crushing menial work until the day they drop dead.

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Apartment 3-G, 12/6/07

Oh, Margo! A single cutting remark from you sends my heart a-flutter more than any dopey six-week lead-up to Tommie getting to first base! And I’ve never loved you more than I do in today’s first panel. “Looking out for each other? Being loving and supportive in a family environment? That frankly strikes me as a lot of hassle. That’s why I alienate everyone who ever tries to love me — less work!” By panel three, Margo has adopted an expression of palpable scheming that’s equally hilarious. Many (including myself) have speculated that Margo will make Ruby her mule in her party-planning or art-displaying sweatshops, but now I think that our gal Magee is planning yet another career in the high-flying Manhattan service industry: she-pimp! “So, if Ruby was so happy to show affection to her family … for free … surely she’ll have no problem with showing affection … to strangers … for money!”

(Yes, I know that the English language already has in “madame” a perfectly serviceable word for a female who manages prostitutes. But I think the word “pimp” implies a certain callousness and propensity for violence that better suits Margo.)

Mary Worth, 12/6/07

Oh, Dr. Jeff, will you ever learn? You just got a response out of Mary that would allow you to extract some shred of dignity out of this conversation. Don’t push it. For the love of God, don’t push it. Mary’s comically exaggerated head-tilted finger-to-the-jawline contemplation pose is only going to end with her saying something blistering and humiliating.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/6/07

I actually kind of like Anthony’s “Are you going home?” question, because it implies that maybe, somehow, I know this is crazy, but just possibly two FBOFW characters who aren’t married and who aren’t terrible, awful whores might have sex! Oh, who am I kidding, they were just going to sit on the couch and chastely smooch on the lips. And those lips would be closed. And little Francie acted as an agent of a vengeful, pleasure-hating God of Foob and prevented even that. But it’s Anthony and Elizabeth and I don’t want anything good to happen to them anyway so I don’t really care.

Dennis the Menace, 12/6/07

So, wait, Margaret has a book lying around that’s essentially all about death? Maybe there’s hope for her yet.

Slylock Fox, 12/6/07

Man, you gotta feel bad for Count Weirdly. There are enough bizarre tchotchkes and strange animals in his lair to provide fodder for a scrambled word puzzle even if all he was doing was sitting around minding his own business and reading Famous Creeps. Instead, here comes Slylock and Max and some angry heron or something busting in to ruin his quiet evening with more wild accusations. Since there’s no mystery to solve, his crime is probably much more straightforward than usual — like, maybe he just exposed himself to her down at the park or something.

Garfield, 12/6/07

NEWSFLASH: COMICS CURMUDGEON CHUCKLES AT GARFIELD, QUESTIONS HIS WHOLE CONCEPT OF HOW THE UNIVERSE WORKS

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Apartment 3-G, 11/28/07

Hmm, perhaps I was too hasty yesterday when I dismissed out of hand the idea that there might be some tension between the A3G narration boxes and the actual narrative. How else to explain panel one, in which we are told that our fearsome foursome are “on the way to the tavern” when in fact they are very obviously standing around in Apartment 3-G’s blandly decorated living room and not going anywhere? The only way they could be less going to the tavern is if they were out on the street walking away from the tavern, though that would be harder to convey in the limited panel space here.

On the other hand, the sudden transition from blinding white to inky black in the second panel is evocative of some kind of movement. Maybe the Professor has whipped up some advanced transporter device, and we’re seeing them walk through a hole in space-time to emerge safely on the tavern’s front steps without having to encounter Manhattan street riff-raff. Or maybe there’s just an entrance to a Prohibition-era secret passageway behind the girls’ kitchen cabinets that connects to every gin joint in town.

Dennis the Menace, 11/28/07

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Dennis with a look of obvious panic on his face; I guess it’s also the first time I’ve seen him with his pants down. I’ll stop going further down this incredibly inappropriate road because I mainly wonder how this can be worked into the increasingly awesome The Luck of Dennis St. Michel, Viscount Stokington. If you ever doubted that the combination of Dennis the Menace and Regency pastiche would be completely hilarious, this blog should put your mind at rest.

Mary Worth, 11/28/07

Man, I thought Mary was cold-hearted over the past few days as she allowed him to believe that she had some gentleman caller over so that he’d run over and fight for her honor. Now she continues to thrust her hound at her erstwhile not-lover as the latter’s respiratory passages begin to seize up. The question now is: who will win this battle of wills for Mary’s heart? Chester’s cuter, but Jeff is probably marginally smarter.

In panel one, Mary is waving Chester’s little paw at Jeff to give some veneer of respectability to her blatant attempt to thrust the dog’s genitals in the good doctor’s face.

Luann, 11/28/07

I’d say that this is supposed to be some sort of commentary on how secular iconography is displacing the true religious significance of the Christmas holiday, but this is the same strip that had town tramp Tiffany playing the Virgin Mary in this pageant. Luann headquarters is lucky that it isn’t a smoldering, lightning-struck hole right now.