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Judge Parker, 2/20/09

So! Indulge me for a moment in a little Judge Parker memory-lane-travel/detective work. Longtime Judge Parker readers will recognize the name April Bower; she was a paralegal or assistant or something in Sam and Randy’s law firm, and was briefly Randy’s love interest — here they are flirting shamelessly, right before Randy teaches her how to use chopsticks in a t-shirt worthy phrase. Anyway, soon after that touching little scene, April ran off to join the CIA, because obviously the dangerous, shadowy life of a spy was preferable to being romantically involved with Randy Parker.

Anyone who dares call himself a Judge Parker commentator ought to have had all of that information at his fingertips the moment Ms. Bower dramatically reinjected herself back into this plot. And yet I spent several moments staring at panel three in puzzlement and confusion, which, I eventually realized, was because April looks an awful lot like the mean mom of Sophie’s cheerleader tormentress!

She’s even wearing a trenchcoat — just like stereotypical spies wear, HMMM? Only Abby calls this lady “Mary” and says she’s an old friend. It’s also important to note that, as those old strips I linked to illustrate, this is the first time April has appeared since Eduardo Barreto has taken over art duties for the strip. So here are the possibilities as I see them:

• Mary, knowing that nobody has seen April as drawn by the new artist, figures that she can bluff her way into the party under a false identity. Once inside, she plans to implement her revenge against the snooty Spencers by gluing Abbey to a chair and ruining her dress.
• April Bowers has been doing a deep cover operation for the CIA as “Mary,” a typical suburban mom, for years now. Her mission is to monitor one Sophie Spencer, whose known hyperintelligence and radical leftist leanings have marked her as a threat to national security.
• Barreto has a thing for Nicolette Sheridan.

In other news, the elder Judge Parker’s wife is Randy’s step-mom, and while she has expressed her motherly feelings for him before, I find it creepy that someone else would identify her as his “mom” at first sight, considering that she would have had to have given birth to him at the age of, oh, let’s say -4.

Blondie, 2/20/09

You know, considering the fact that Dagwood is Dithers’s most useless and hated employee, the two of them certainly socialize together a lot. Are there no other irascible, elderly plutocrats with Mrs. Dumont-esque wives in town with whom Dithers can get together and swap tales of robber baronage? The experience doesn’t seem to be going well for Mrs. Dithers; take a good look and you’ll notice that her usually zaftig figure seems to have wasted away. Presumably being confronted with the impossibly hourglass-shaped Blondie on a regular basis has prompted a nasty case of anorexia.

Mark Trail, 2/20/09

There’s a line in the first X-Files movie where Mulder is rambling on in typical fashion about shadowy forces within the federal bureaucracy, and posits that someday a major nationwide disaster would strike and that’s when power would be seized by “FEMA, the secret government.” This got the biggest laugh of the movie in the theater where I saw it, and that was years before we learned all too well how bad FEMA was at its actual job, to say nothing of its hidden ruling-the-nation-with-an-iron-fist duties. But today’s Mark Trail proves that maybe Mulder just had his obscure federal agencies wrong; apparently, it’s the sinister representatives of the Forest Service who are keeping tabs on each and every one of us, silently compiling dossiers, just waiting for the moment when that information will become useful. Want to know the dirty little secrets of any citizen, anywhere? Ask your local forest ranger!

Zits, 2/20/09

This may not be true in all regional dialects, but in my experience most Jewish people would say “at temple” rather than “at the temple” (just as most Christians would say “at church” rather than “at the church”). Maybe Sara is supposed to be Mormon, except that for all I know Mormons would say “at temple” too, plus I’m pretty sure Mormon temples are used exclusively for religious ceremonies and not as community centers for presentations like this. What I’m trying to say is, the “temple” to which she refers to is probably a ramshackle collection of trailers on the outskirts of town, the “Success Through Abstinence” lecture is all about how she needs to be saving herself for her future divine marriage to the Grand Exalted One, who was taken bodily up to the Heavenly Comet after the IRS tried to serve those papers to his compound seven years ago and who will collect his followers during the Great Return Event in 2017, and Jeremy will return home tonight with a shaved head and glassy-eyed stare.

Dick Tracy, 2/20/09

Obviously law enforcement officers have to improvise when potentially dangerous criminals arrive on the scene on short notice; but if your idea of “improvisation” involves hurling noxious chemicals directly into the perp’s eyes, then chuckling smugly as they stumble out blindly to their car, which they’ll inevitably drive into some kind of fiery wreck — well, that says a little something about you, is all I’m saying.

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Dick Tracy, 2/4/09

“Ethan Noll — Ethan Noll? Like ethanol, the volatile, flammable grain alcohol that some think could be a valuable fuel source, and which is often derived from corn, which in turn is the main crop in Iowa, the location of Professor Noll’s university? I wonder if this offers a clue of some sort to the denouement of this episode? Naw! Too much of a coincidence. Literally every human being I meet has a name that’s a pun of some sort, and only half of those turn out to be relevant.”

There are many things I dislike about Dick Tracy — currently at the top of my list is its decision to renew its earlier flirtation with Comic Sans (HEY GUYS JUST BECAUSE IT’S IN BOLD DOESN’T MEAN WE CAN’T TELL) — but the weird fractured chronology on display in the second and third panels, in which an event is first recounted second-hand and then shown to us in flashback, isn’t one of them. This is actually a fairly common technique in the strip, and I’ve grown to appreciate it more as I read it; it at least adds a little narrative interest among the stubby fingers and the bludgeonings. It reminds me of the weird editing in Steven Soderbergh’s The Limey, only with even more graphic and brutal killings.

Funky Winkerban, 2/4/09

“Yup, I’m all set to start writing again, and AAAH AAAH AAAH IT’S THE REANIMATED CORPSE OF MY DEAD WIFE!” Ha ha, just kidding, Les wouldn’t be terrified by this prospect; the appearance of his wife, resurrected as a shambling zombie-demon, would be the highest form of erotica for him.

I was blessedly out of the FW loop during the storyline being described here, but many commentors seem to recall it as one of those irritating lesser-Shakespeare-comedy-type plots where the protagonists keep having their meeting thwarted by random circumstance (much like Darrin and Lisa’s attempts to track each other down before the latter’s death). If that’s true, then surely Les will be able to produce a new book that’s as big a flop as his last one, and the cycle of misery will be complete.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/4/09

Hmm, Second Officer Tomas, who in previous appearances looked to be of Latin or African descent, has made an appearance today looking thoroughly Caucasianized. Perhaps he’s still desperately attempting to placate the drunken, belligerent WASPs who make up most of the ship’s passengers, and thus is switching races himself so as to put them all at ease. Thus the patient requiring medical attention is Guido himself, with Rex being called upon to provide more enwhitening injections.

Marmaduke, 2/4/09

Marmaduke’s owner can’t get the dog to stay off the furniture, stop digging up the back yard, or refrain from eating the neighbors, but at least he’s managed to instill his own virulent anti-Semitism into the hell-beast.

Ziggy, 2/4/09

Hey, everybody! Have you heard about all the corporate bailouts? Ziggy has, apparently! Maybe someday the strip will get around to making a joke about them.

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Dick Tracy, 1/29/09

Dick Tracy is well known for such stunningly pointless narration box scene setting as “In another room” and “Elsewhere,” but I have to admit to being somewhat intrigued by “Much later”. By using qualitative, not quantitative, terms, the strip sets up an intriguing narrative tension about exactly when the third panel is supposed to be taking place. Are we meant to read it as “Much later, after Dick’s gruesome, nine-hour ‘enhanced’ interrogation of Professor Noll, at the end of which he described the secret project he was working on, confessed to a number of crimes he couldn’t have possibly committed, and then was shot ‘trying to escape’?” Or as “Much later, after the human race has evolved into a species with no pupils, shiny black skulls, truncated, pointy breasts, and a tendency to name people things like ‘Driller’?”

Gil Thorp, 1/29/09

Of course, Central has an incredible home-court advantage. Playing basketball on a court with four-foot ceilings does limit the number of home fans who can come and cheer, but for teams unused to such conditions, the stooped, simian lope that they make necessary can be a real distraction — one that the permanently hunched over Bobcats can exploit.

I’m not sure what the two clowns standing behind Marty are up to — trying to get their faces on the radio? That’s not how it works, guys — but I sincerely hope that the blond-haired glasses-wearing dude is making the universal jerk-off motion with his left hand, as he appears to be.

Blondie, 1/29/05

I strongly disapprove of the set-up for this joke. Dagwood can’t possibly be much older than, say, 50; obviously anyone born after 1960, when asked by a child if some common, century-old device were available during their childhood, would respond not with “Yes, and yet I’m also going to offer a description of an archaic technology that will make me seem even more wizened to you,” but with “JESUS CHRIST ELMO HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM,” followed by some serious soul-searching and a series of inappropriate and regrettable music and clothing purchases.

Mary Worth, 1/29/09

“Yes, before I came to visit you, I never imagined the hatred and despair that lurked just beneath the besequined surface of this beautiful sport! Now every time I see a coach talking to a skater on TV, all I’ll be able to think of will be the many ways that each has been able to wound and disappoint the other over the years. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish my glass of blood as soon as possible and get the hell out of here before this little papered-over truce you’ve established inevitably collapses in tears and acrimony and slashing blades.”