Archive: Dick Tracy

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Mary Worth, 4/10/19

Hmm, it seems that wiring “Arthur Z” a mere $10,000 has made little to no change in Estelle’s material circumstances, but has enabled “Arthur” to trade his filthy, green-tinted hovel for a delightful seaside bungalow where he can enjoy a fine meal and glass of champagne in peace. Thus, this grift is good revolutionary praxis! I assume he refers to her as “my queen” because he sees his scheme as the equivalent of seizing one of Marie Antionette’s chateaus for the common folk to live in.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/10/19

Ah whoops it looks like, despite the fact that Jess’s co-worker was excplicity identified as “Cindy” in dialogue yesterday, my brain refused to process her as “Cindy, Funky’s ex” for some reason. In my defense, Cindy has always been portrayed in this strip both as blonde and as absolutely terrified that she’s going to get too old for her hunky actor boyfriend, so the fact that she’s let herself go grey certainly threw me. Also, I know documentary work Cindy did for Buddyblog got an Emmy nomination, and Jessica did move to LA with big dreams, but honestly, I have no memory at all of the two of them ever connecting professionally. And honestly, I’m pretty OK with my mind slowly turning to goo so long as the encyclopedic memory of Funky Winkerbean plotlines is the first to go.

Dick Tracy, 4/10/19

Dick Tracy well knows that, in his universe, the correct answer is always the most obvious one, so the fact that this sportwriter is from Tacoma, just like the serial killer he’s tracking, is all the proof he needs that the sportswriter is the serial killer, but I enjoy his contemplative look in the third panel, as if he’s seriously considering building a barbed wire fence around Tacoma so he can more efficiently interrogate all 200,000 inhabitants until he gets some answers.

The Lockhorns, 4/10/19

I’m sorry, but Leroy’s whole thing is that he’s a poorly paid white collar drone, and I refuse to believe that he somehow rates an office with a door and a personal assistant to field his calls. Was this joke so good that it was worth undermining the very nature of the Lockhorns reality? It very much was not, in my opinion!

Gil Thorp, 4/10/19

I definitely respect Gil Thorp’s total commitment to its unique, herky-jerky visual narrative style, and if sometimes that means that a moment of actually exciting sports action is described in a narration box while the accompanying panel just shows someone standing on a base bag and clapping, well, so be it.

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Dick Tracy, 4/3/19

Well I for one am excited that this current Dick Tracy storyline, about a journalist who’s also a serial killer, seems to be entirely focused on the journalist-serial killer’s dissatisfaction with the nickname he’s had foisted onto him. He apparently would prefer to be known as “The Professor” because he “teaches the teachers,” which, not to sound like an elitist or anything, implies that he wholly misunderstands the distinction between secondary and tertiary education. Also, since I guess I’m going to sound like an elitist no matter what, it’s a little less impressive to “teach the teachers” when the teachers you teach are all gym teachers.

Gil Thorp, 4/3/19

Ahh, finally we’re learning what the “family stuff” was that kids were missing precious softball scrimmages for: doing “stuff” at a convention with your “family” of fellow content producers in the pop culture industrial complex. It looks like our spring Gil Thorp storyline is going to answer that age-old question: can a jock also be … a nerd?

Mark Trail, 4/3/19

Whoa, check out the quick swivel Mark’s got going on in the first panel here. “I’m sorry, is someone other than me needlessly reassuring a woman who’s talking about outdoorsy stuff that she hasn’t made an embarrassing error? And does that other person have the hint of a beard? I sense trouble brewing!”

Beetle Bailey, 4/3/19

As the U.S. military crumbles and the homeland itself is subject to enemy invasion, we’re down to our last line of defense: the troops garrisoned at Camp Swampy. With artillery raining down on the command post, things are not looking good.

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Dick Tracy, 3/26/19

Oh, huh, I must be losing it, because a couple weeks ago when we were introduced to a new character, a cocky local sports reporter and columnist, it had already slipped my mind that a couple weeks before that we had already been offered a glimpse of a stab-happy sports reporter! I guess this is all just some kind of intra-jock feud. Anyway, this is part of the Dick Tracy narrative M.O. in which the perp is always the most obvious person and the “drama” comes from the MCU’s dogged and violent pursuit of the that person, not any kind of clever “solving” of “crimes” or anything like that. Meanwhile, I can’t tell if “It wasn’t you, was it?” is meant to signify “Oh no, I married a murderer, how could I have been so blind?” or “Ugh, you promised you wouldn’t murder any more gym teachers, can’t you just do this one little thing for me?”

Gil Thorp, 3/26/19

I certainly hope all this mysterious talk of “family stuff” is referring to the Human Family, a local doomsday cult who’s been heavily recruiting Milford teenagers this year. “Well! That explains things,” says Mohawk Guy, around hour four into the Patriarch’s sermon in which he blames the failure of the Cleansing to arrive on the appointed date on the corruption of the “real” Mayan calendar by Spanish conquistadors.