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For Better or For Worse, 2/26/08

AT LONG LAST, THE COUNTDOWN HAS STARTED! Yes, the discovery of this priceless family heirloom starts the clock ticking towards the inevitable merging of Liz and Anthony into a single pasty, spineless entity in the eyes of Canadian law. Since the whole story of Liz’s young adulthood has been the systematic quashing of any and all attitudes that come from outside The Family, obviously whatever she wanted to wear will be cast aside and replaced with this dress — which, if every crawlspace I’ve ever encountered is any indication, is yellowed, mildewy, covered with mouse feces, and smells awful. Oh, she’ll look so beautiful walking down the aisle oh-so-carefully to make sure the ancient, moth-eaten thing doesn’t disintegrate!

Dick Tracy, 2/26/08

OK, Dick Tracy, we all know you get some kind of grandfather-clause pass on gruesome violence, but do you really expect us to just sit back and laugh at your artist villain who basically has a set of testicles for a chin? You know, it’s all fun and games to call Grandpa Jim “Grandpa Chin-nuts” or make fun of poor Clambake, but at least with those characters you don’t get the feeling that the artist actually has some scrotum photos out to use as a model.

Dick went through some bizarre and wholly unrealistic process of tracking down art supply sales to figure out that Dab Stract was behind whatever incomprehensible skullduggery is afoot here. But if he didn’t find the artistic representation of human beings to be a sinful arrogation of God’s exclusive power of creation, he could have probably just, you know, looked at the “gross” paintings and recognized the style.

Family Circus, 2/26/08

Those “cool friends” snowman “joke” cartoons are apparently going to continue for as long as there’s snow on the ground, or until our wills are broken, whichever comes first. Today’s kneeling, praying snowman illustrates a bit too much the limits to the traditional three-sphere school of snowman construction. When you’ve got essentially three giant balls of decreasing size, it looks fine. But when you sketch in leglines like this, it just looks like you’ve got a devout snowman with an enormous ass.

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Herb and Jamaal, 2/22/08

Yeah, Herb! Those jeans are much beloved by people Ezekial’s age! You know, people younger than 18! People who are still in school, and live at home, and aren’t yet legal adults! If only there were some kind of handy word that could describe people who fall into that category … but what could it be?

Actually, this weird circumlocution is yet another instance of Herb and Jamaal’s quest for total timeliness. When I watched It’s A Wonderful Life again this Christmas, I was struck by just how damn high up Jimmy Stewart wore his the waistband of his pants in the scenes where he’s supposed to be in his early 20s — just like old men puttering around nursing homes wear them today. It made me realize that the ludicrous styles your parents make fun of when you’re 16 are the exact same ludicrous styles your grandchildren will be making fun of when you’re 75. In other words, come 2050 or so, all the legacy Herb and Jamaal artist will need to do is erase the mustache on Herb and add it to Ezekial and WHAM! Instant up-to-the-minute relevance, with all the dialog the same!

Mary Worth, 2/22/08

It’s a good thing Mary is such a master meddler, as no mere tyro could have possibly pulled off this awesomely convoluted platitude. Seriously, it took two panels to execute in full. I’d love to see it in cross-stitch.

Dick Tracy, 2/22/08

Ha ha, Louise Brooks, the jig is up! You should have known that by selling supplies to so-called “artists,” you’d eventually attract the attention of an honest lawman like Dick Tracy! He’ll make you pay for enabling the depiction of the human form in somewhat abstract ways!

Six Chix, 2/22/08

Most pointless second panel ever. That … that’s pretty much how a frequent buyer card works. Yup.

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Ziggy, 2/11/08

Every once in a while, something deeply strange and more than a little bit wonderful peeks out at you from the cracks in the tired old surface of a long-running comic strip. Today, Ziggy, having long failed in his quest to make human friends, and routinely mocked and derided by his own pets, is searching for companionship from a machine, which, he sadly believes, will be able to soothe his loneliness. But he’s not satisfied with the run-of-the-mill answering machines that merely record phone messages and play them back at the touch of a button; instead, he’s searching for an advanced model with basic decision-making abilities. In so doing, he touches on a philosophical dilemma that has troubled great thinkers for centuries: can truly rewarding affection come from an entity lacking free will? If Ziggy’s answering machine is forced by its programming to love him, can what it feels truly be said to be “love” at all, rather than mere slavish devotion? But, on the other hand, if the answering machine is allowed to decide on its own what to feel about Ziggy, won’t it respond with the same mixture of pity and disgust universally held by the service employees, animals, and newspaper readers who encounter him daily?

Dick Tracy, 2/11/08

I was going to laugh mightily at Dick Tracy’s decision to make up, and then explain in a footnote, a completely nonexistent slang term for being nefariously rendered unconscious by a baddie with a roofie and/or a dart gun, but then I consulted Urban Dictionary and found that “smacked” can mean getting high from smoking marijuana or taking Ecstasy. While this doesn’t necessarily conflict with the narrator-supplied definition of “foreign substance in system,” it obviously puts an entirely different spin on the scenario: the problem is not so much a stealthy, sinister baddie willing to do anything to kidnap the Chief, but rather an out-of-control drug problem that’s affected even the police force’s most elite officers. Fortunately, once Chief Liz has been recovered, Dick Tracy will deal with the hippie slacker responsible, probably with the butt of his pistol.

Gil Thorp, 2/11/08

OH SWEET SWEET SWEET lunging out of the mental hospital and into the third panel at a bizarre, inexplicable angle: it’s self-bashing Tyler! Who, uh, looks actually pretty much exactly like Andrew Gregory. Really, is there a Valley Conference rule that says that one spit-curled player must be on the court at all times?

Spider-Man, 2/11/08

Oh, man, no matter how often Spider-Man is felled by getting hit in the back of a head with a lead pipe with absolutely no warning from his spider-sense, it never gets old. Never.

Mary Worth, 2/11/08

do it Drew do it just turn the wheel a little to the left LIFE’S NOT WORTH LIVING do it do it do it