Post Content

Heathcliff, 5/7/25

The thing about Heathcliff is that he should be dominant in any situation in which he finds himself, either having established himself as being on top of the hierarchy or doing something that ignores other people’s dominant positions and makes them nervous. Garfield is usually dominant in his strip but sometimes this is reversed for comical effect, but I don’t think that works with Heathcliff. Heathcliff should not be “in deep” with his bookie and currying favor with him by laughing too hard at his jokes! He should be at the top of an attack parabola, ready to descend claws extended onto the face of the starting pitcher of whatever team he’s just bet against.

The Lockhorns, 5/7/25

I really respect that Leroy has absorbed just enough Harry Potter knowledge to know that witches send letters with owls but doesn’t really know or care that many witches and wizards are good guys, they aren’t the kind of comical evil crone-witches he associates with Loretta’s mother, etc. I also respect The Lockhorns for getting the U.S. Postal Service’s logo correct on this letter carrier’s bag, which is more than Blondie, a strip with a recurring mailman character, can say.

Dick Tracy, 5/7/25

The mostly empty tumbler of brown liquor on the desk in the final panel is a nice touch. “Ahh, I shan’t leave this evidence behind!” he thinks, smugly and drunkly, right before whatever electrified net contraption Sam has talked the MCU’s favorite judge into letting them use descends upon him.

Post Content

Gil Thorp, 5/5/25

Hey, remember when we met Marty’s AA pal, “Clam,” and I said, “Ha ha, wouldn’t it be funny if that was the same person as Clambake, the guy who did some unpaid coaching for Gil and claimed to be a Negro Leaguer, but it turns out he was a fraud?” Well, ha ha, it seems that is the same guy, and he only went around lying about his baseball career because he was drunk, I guess, but now that he’s clean and sober he’s welcome to come back to the Milford dugout to do some unpaid coaching again, or at least to stare meaningfully out at the field with Gil.

This actually gives me a chance to talk about the weird Gil Thorp variant of comic book time, in which the kids age in real time, spending no more than four years as school-age characters and occasionally returning as adults, but Gil and his fellow coaches seemingly do not. And the original Clambake storyline, which ran in 2007, actually gives us some pegs to real ages: in his fabrication, he claimed to have been 83 years old and played in the late 1940s, when in fact he was only 71, as Gil found out with some help from the local cops once he decided to maybe figure out if this random dude who’d been hanging around the school for weeks was on the up and up. That would make him 89 years old now … or maybe still 71, if he’s in the same time-stasis as Gil? Unclear. I’m interested in finding out, though.

Dick Tracy, 5/5/25

I haven’t really been keeping up with the details in Dick Tracy, but I am happy to inform you that Dick finally has all the information he needs to put an end to Neo-Chicago’s nephewcrime epidemic once and for all. I love that the only photo the cops have of these two is a party pic printed out from Facebook; I assume that the heavily armed SWAT team currently converging on their location has been warned that “suspects may be enjoying canapés, repeat, canapés.”

Pluggers, 5/5/25

Now, the other coastal elitists and I all like to see pluggers engaging in their vaguely depressing down-home antics and ask, jokingly, “Are pluggers OK? Ha ha!” But, for real: are pluggers OK. Are pluggers no longer able to properly care for themselves, or possibly being physically abused. Do we need to call a social worker, to keep the pluggers safe.

Post Content

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/13/25

Oh, a thing I forgot to tell you about that happened in Rex Morgan, M.D., is that Summer managed to track down other people her stalker had stalked, and messaged one of them on Facebook while Augie was checking the perimeter. Apparently that lady, “Debra,” is dead (from … stalking?) or at least no longer in charge of her phone, and her … widower? … has it, and he got the message, which led him across town to confront the stalker … with a gun. A gun that shoots booze and pills straight into your bloodstream, I guess!

Mary Worth, 4/13/25

Hey, remember that time that Wilbur was having a fantasy about being a superhero, but actually he was having a series of wacky, clumsy misadventures while lost in his fantasy, but actually he saved a guy from getting killed, so maybe the superhero thing wasn’t a fantasy, after all? Well, I guess we’re seeing something similar here, with Wilbur saving Dawn from that poisoned tea in the process of reaching across the table for no readily apparently reason. Unless … he knows that the tea is poisoned, and just hasn’t said anything because he’s hoping to get laid a couple times before he calls the cops on his murderous paramour? I think we may have found a way for Wilbur to go Too Far, and I dread the consequences.

Dick Tracy, 4/13/25

Sorry, I misspoke Thursday, that guy with the flattop isn’t a cop; he has a much higher calling, as an insurance investigator, and he and the dentist are going to crack this case wide open. Imagine thinking you could disguise a corpse by simulating someone else’s dental work in a superficial way, without taking into account the natural wear and tear that occurs over time! It makes this good doctor furious, and he’s showing his anger by baring his teeth — his beautiful, beautiful teeth — as is custom among his people.

The Phantom, 4/13/25

Speaking of customs among the people, it seems our Wambesi city kid has gone straight from never looking down on the old ways to hopping straight over Chesterton’s fence into the Forbidden Zone. Sure, it’s not permitted for you to go in that direction, rube, but Nia has a metal detector and a shirt from the Gap. She’s going to be fine! Stop complaining!