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Gil Thorp, 1/18/21

As a man born in 1974 and thus smack in the middle of the Gen X cohort, I have been mostly safe during the raging Millennial vs. Boomer wars, and have thus been able to take a sort of detached view of them. One of the conclusions I’ve come to is that we’re way too free and easy with generational essentialism when we should just be engaging in basic agism. To put it another way, a lot of the stereotypes about how “Millennials suck” or “Boomers suck” are actually just ways in which young people and old people suck, respectively, and how they’ve always sucked no matter what year they were born, and in fact many of the ways Boomers suck now are the ways in which Millennials will suck in 30 years or so.

Anyway, a particularly pernicious habit of the agèd is the belief that their fondly remembered youth in particular is not just particularly vivid in their mind because that was when they were young and their life was full of promise, but because it was in fact the most important historical moment during which anyone could ever have been young, and young people today should get into all the pop culture signifiers today’s old people remember so fondly. This is fully universal and mostly harmless: like almost everybody, for instance, I am very convinced that our civilization’s music just happened to hit the peak of its creativity when I was between 18 and 25 years old.

Because most newspaper comics are written by and for Baby Boomers, you get a version of this in which every adult was a hippie as a teenager and went to discos as a young adult and no subsequent cultural trends are worth talking about, really. But if we Gen Xers are going to resist the siren song of pluggerdom, we really need to watch ourselves from falling into this same trap. Like, the last time I really followed basketball was the in the era under discussion here, and though my favs were the lovable, goonish Oakley-Ewing-Starks-Mason-era Knicks, “Joe Duuu-mars” is definitely like one of Proust’s madeleines to me. But, like, I’m given to understand that today’s NBA is a vibrant, beloved league that has its own set of superstars and characters and hangers-on. If I met an actual teen who was fixated on early the early ’90s NBA, I would feel mingled amusement and pity, and if I were writing a teen character and thought “I’m gonna have this kid be obsessed with things from when I was a kid,” I would hope someone would talk me out of it.

Shoe, 1/18/21

Way back when the New York Times first experimented with a paywall, back in the late ’00s, they kept their news coverage free but you had to pay to read their opinion columnists. This struck me as an insane choice, both in terms of what the market valued and how much labor went into each product — even back then it was obvious that investigative journalism took a lot of resources to produce whereas literally any asshole on the internet, yours truly included, is more than willing to offer semi-informed opinions for free — so I have always assumed that the decision actually reflected the internal hierarchy at the paper, in which columnists are better paid and have more prestige despite doing less work because they’re considered “thought leaders” or whatever. Anyway, Shoe may be a longstanding legacy comics about clinically depressed talking birds, but I’ll take my pointed media analysis where I can get it. (The Times eventually figured out what people will really shell out for: recipes and the crossword puzzle.)

Mark Trail, 1/18/21

Since we last checked in with Mark Trail, he stole his dad’s manatee-harming speedboat and got into some fisticuffs with Trail family henchmen (?). But now he has to face an existential dilemma: does he get into a speedboat chase with the police? Seems unlikely, but remember, Mark absolutely punched a cop in the face one time, and sure, that was just to rescue Rusty, who was stuck under a car, but it’s a slippery slope, and I think we can all agree that manatees are much cuter than Rusty.

Daddy Daze, 1/18/21

I think I speak for all of us when I say I want to hear a lot less about the Daddy Daze baby and his secret langage of “ba”s and a lot more about the Daddy Daze daddy’s divorce. I’m gonna bet it was pretty wild!

Dennis the Menace, 1/18/21

Ha ha, it’s funny because Mr. Wilson wants to kill Dennis with poison gas!

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Marvin, 1/15/21

So Marvin has been doing the thing where it mostly doesn’t acknowledge the ongoing pandemic but sometimes does, like it’s been doing this week, when it has jokes to make about it, which I’m on the record as being basically fine with for gag-a-day strips like this. What has been bothering me about this week, though, is that the specific joke-topic in question has been about Jeff and Jenny having to cut Marvin’s hair themselves rather than take him to a professional, which makes me as a non-parent wonder: Do parents not … usually cut their babies’ own hair? I remember my mom cutting my hair well into my grade school years but maybe she was unusually thrifty or times have changed? Like, are there salons that specialize in baby haircuts or do you take them to a regular place or what? Whatever the case, please enjoy this strip in which Jeff waxes rhapsodically about the scissors he bought — so sharp, so very sharp — that he’ll be waving around in untrained proximity to his terrible son’s temptingly soft skull.

Mary Worth, 1/15/21

“Oh good, I can demand that she answer all my probing questions now, in public! I’m helping!”

Dennis the Menace 1/15/21

Ha ha, it’s funny because Dennis doesn’t understand what simple English words mean and because he has a serious undiagnosed food allergy!

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Dennis the Menace, 1/8/21

I feel like over the years Dennis the Menace has spent less time on Dennis’s actual menacing more on everyone’s second-order reactions to said menacing, or their perceptions of him as a menace, which may or may not be based in reality. Like, be honest: who’s the real menace here? The kid who’s playing fetch with his dog? Or the guy who’s buttonholed a total stranger and appears to be deep into a conversation along the lines of “You’d think with a nightmare specimen like this you’d be dealing with a deeply tainted bloodline, just generation after generation of idiots and defectives, but no! I guess it turns out that true evil can arise from the seemingly innocent! Sinister horror lurks below the surface of our every day life, and indeed inside each one of us!”

Marvin, 1/8/21

I guess maybe this joke would’ve landed better if the Miller household weren’t a largely featureless void consisting mostly of a blue rug and a enormous expanse of white wall. But even so, it’s still a little off! Marvin refused to sit in the corner, so here he is sitting … not in the corner, ha ha? It’s like someone’s been told that they can’t do poop jokes anymore, and so they’re trying to reason out what other kinds of jokes might look like from first principles, and this was their first stab at it.

Funky Winkerbean, 1/8/21

We saw a glimpse of the exterior of Chez Winkerbean in a strip just before Christmas, and I was too busy focusing on the negative to take note of the frankly enormous house that Funky and Holly live in. This is curious, considering that their income derives from managing a perpetually failing small-town pizza parlor for its fickle absentee owner, and not long ago Funky sunk his savings into a failed attempt to franchise Montoni’s shitty pizza in New York City, a metropolis noted for its pizza-snobbery. Admittedly, the real estate market in Northeastern Ohio is not exactly booming, so maybe my radar on what a 5,000-square-foot suburban McMansion would go for is off, but today we learn that the Winkerbean family has the means to drop on the order of four grand on a TV without that even being noteworthy enough for Funky to remember. What I’m trying to say here is that managing a perpetually failing small-town pizza parlor may actually be actually pretty lucrative, in the sense that it makes a great front for money laundering for organized crime.