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Dick Tracy, 1/6/07

Now, the number of you who have followed the current storyline in Dick Tracy in as much detail as I have can probably be counted on one hand. This is because this storyline, like Dick Tracy in general, is kind of bad. But I have to admit that I found this strip, in which things are brought more or less to a triumphant conclusion, to have a kind of quiet charm. From Dick’s dialogue which, while not quite poetic, at least has a certain pleasing alliterative rhythm to it (“made our minds his prisoners”, “now we’ve neutered his neurons”) to the sad, defeated look on Dr. Froid’s face, to the tiny little QWINK his sinister device makes as it’s powered down for good, the whole thing has a certain dignity that pretty much everything that’s happened up to this point has lacked.

For Better Or For Worse, 1/6/07

Speaking of lacking in dignity, I haven’t commented on FBOFW this week, mostly because I’ve grown so disgruntled with the plot direction that I don’t even know how to feel about Elizabeth’s inevitable discovery of Paul’s philandering. On the one hand, it provides an easy way for Elizabeth to be driven into the dull, reassuring arms of The Mustache, without any even slight lowering of her status as the strip’s incomprehensibly elevated Noble Goddess. On the other hand, a Patterson will experience emotional pain and anguish. So there’s that.

One thing I know exactly how to feel about is the strip’s patented and increasingly phoned-in punny punchlines: Bad. Bad is how I feel about them. “I’m going to say my boyfriend’s last name for no reason other than to supply a pun for my little sister’s ensuing thought balloon!” Bad.

Judge Parker, 1/6/07

Many faithful readers with a better grasp of geography and typical travel schedules than Judge Parker have pointed out that transatlantic flights simply do not land in Europe at 1:30 in the morning, ever. Still, based on her creepy white eyes in panel three, it’s no mystery why Neddy wants to go to the Champs-Elysées before sunup: to feast on the blood of the living.

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Judge Parker, 12/18/06

None of the soap opera strips can really be said to move quickly (except for the disorienting crank binge that is Gil Thorp), but those in the know know that nothing moves more slowly than Judge Parker. Today’s evidence: I’ve read every single Judge Parker for the last two years, and “Marie” is clearly supposed to be a recurring and beloved character, but I have no idea who the hell she is. Presumably she jetted off to visit with her bother for a long weekend about 72 hours ago in strip time.

Guest artist watch: Abbey’s resplendent she-mullet is looking almost normal in panel two, there, buster. Not nearly enough poof on top.

Dick Tracy, 12/18/06

The QLUNQ in today’s Dick Tracy has generated more comments and e-mails than any other comic sound effect in recent memory, most of which can be summed up as “What the hell kind of sound effect is QLUNQ?” Well, the largest denomination of U.S. currency in current circulation is the $100 bill, and there’s 50,000 bills in that suitcase, and 490 bills weigh one pound, so I’d say QLUNQ is the noise that 102 pounds of money and a suitcase make when they run into the side of a human skull. 102 pounds of money and a suitcase thrown one-armed, incidentally. And they say scientists are skinny, nerdy types!

Dennis the Menace, 12/18/06

Well, Dennis has certainly left meancehood behind long ago, but we can take heart that at least he hasn’t gone so far in the other direction as to have become Christ-like.

Yet, anyway.

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Mary Worth, 12/5/06

“That’s right, I won’t stop there! I’m also going to break out into this elaborately choreographed dance routine! ‘Hey fella … don’t see Ella … that’s my advice to yoooouuuuu … She’s no psychic … you won’t like it … She’s crazy, she’s old … and something of a scold!'”

I can’t wait to see what sort of devastating rumors ol’ Tom Dewey’s going to be spreading about Charterstone’s resident psychic advisor. “Hey guys, you know that 92-year-old woman living in the condo complex who I went to for psychic advice on my complex business dealings? Well it turns out she’s crazy! No, she’s crazy! No … what are you laughing at?”

Pluggers, 12/5/06

I’m going to pass quickly over the sub-Foxworthyism that is the joke in today’s Pluggers (“If your working mailbox sits inside your non-working mailbox, you might be a plugger”) to snicker snidely at the name of the Muncy, PA, resident who sent this in. Please, somebody tell me that this is a cruel joke perpetrated by central PA hipsters, or some kind of down-home country cultural reference of which I as a city-dwelling elite snot am ignorant, rather than somebody’s actual name. What I’m trying to say is, if you name your son “Chubby Fry,” you might be a plugger, and you’re definitely determined to make sure that he’s a plugger.

Zits and Dick Tracy, 12/5/06

I offer these two strips to showcase how the comics treats delivery personnel stumbling into wacky comics-style situations. For reasons too boring for me to go into here, the Tracys have had their minds erased for Dr. Froid’s sinister purposes and Jeremy is naked. Now, I’m not an expert on automatic-rifle-handling techniques, but I’m kind of dubious about the way that the Brinks man on the left is holding his weapon in panel two of Dick Tracy. I’m pretty sure that the only time I’ve ever seen anyone wielding a gun like that was when he was standing in the back of a pickup truck with a bunch of other guys on their way to seize the city’s central marketplace from a rival clan’s militia.

As for the clotheslessness dilemma, I have to say that I don’t think the thought of my girlfriend “accidentally” finding me naked in high school would have traumatized me as much as it apparently does Jeremy. I’m not saying anything good or non-scarring would have come of that had it actually happened, but I think I would have been more open to it before the fact.

Apartment 3-G, 12/5/06

You know, both Mary Worth and Apartment 3-G are heavily into supernaturally-themed storylines right now — just in time for six weeks late for Halloween! Personally, I think Lu Ann’s found her perfect man: dedicated, distant, and invisible. Mostly, the Amazing Tale Of The Mysterious Haunted Studio is reminding me how damn boring the Lu Ann plots are. I think I speak for us all when I say: bring on Margo and Eric’s wacky antics, which should play out like a methed-up version of The Lady Eve. Even glum Tommie’s stories have a mopey grandeur compared to this goofy twaffle.

Spider-Man, 12/5/06

Trust me, you do not want to know what just happened in that van.