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Mary Worth, 4/19/22

Oh ho ho, our man Ian has finally found out what’s troubling his young-ish bride and isn’t going to fly into one of his trademark rages at all! No, he’s had enough red wine to be positively mellow about this whole Cal situation, though it’s not entirely clear what kind of mellow he is: the kind where he’s ruefully amused by the hilarious predicament his dim wife has gotten herself into, or the kind where he’s hoping that his wife and her new boyfriend will be open to letting him discreetly watch.

Dick Tracy, 4/19/22

The current Dick Tracy storyline involves a guy named “Matt” who is pretending to be a dead Dick Tracy villain named Tonsils, and also dating the real Tonsils’s former girlfriend, who knows he’s not the real Tonsils but is still into it? It’s not as sick as a guy getting eaten by rats, but, real talk: it’s not not sick, either. Anyway, Dick is trying to tell Matt about how Tonsils came to a bad end and he needs to stay on the straight and narrow, but I’m sorry, are you painting a word-picture of a guy waving a bottle of GASO[LINE?] around while terrified people shove money at him and you expect us to not think he’s awesome? Please.

Dustin, 4/19/22

This joke depends on the structure of the comics delivering us instantly from panel two to panel three and it works more or less fine on that level, but I’m still trying to visualize how this would play out in real life. I don’t care how fast you work, it’d take at least 30 seconds to wolf down each of these two full-sized donuts, and I’d like to imagine Dustin’s dad’s discomfited coworker staring at him silently the whole time, waiting for him to blurt out this punchline along with a shower of crumbs.

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Family Circus, 4/5/22

I’ve been doing this blog for many, many years and my attitude about many of the comics has evolved in ways I never expected, and one of the ways I least expected is that I have come to respect some of the subtle dry wit in the Family Circus. In today’s panel, for instance, Mrs. Crisp is giving Billy a semi-defeated “is this little moron shitting me” look, which, once you learn to recognize it, a surprising number adults use when interacting with the Keane Kids, including their parents.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/5/22

Funky Winkerbean has accrued a truly epic amount of lore over its decades of existence, and I was about to apologize to you for not having it all at my fingertips, but you know what? It’s good and normal to not remember Funky Winkerbean plots from decades ago and I’m not apologizing for practicing self-care by refusing to retain information about them! Anyway, the last few weeks of this strip have been about Crazy Harry’s teen days as an arcade-based video gamer, and how his arch-rival was a person who wore a helmet and was known as “The Eliminator,” and that person turned out to be … the woman he would later marry. I have no idea if this was how the storyline actually played out way back in the early run in the strip or if it’s been retconned in a “What if a great video game player … were a girl, really makes you think” way, and I don’t care to do the research to find out. What’s important is that Crazy Harry has put on “The Eliminator”‘s helmet, and it’s apparently now some kind of VR/metaverse thing, only instead of taking you to a fantastic world beyond your imagination, it just plops you down right next to Les and Lisa’s special park bench, where you too can experience your wife dying of cancer in vivid 3-D.

Dick Tracy, 4/5/22

Ah, it appears that “Coffyhead,” using the clever alias “Moka,” is about to tangle with Vitamin Flintheart’s manager “Coffee Grounds.” I usually find “Don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee!” jokes pretty dumb, but I’m beginning to think that the Dick Tracy creative team should in fact not talk to anyone or start working on Dick Tracy until they’ve had their coffee.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/5/22

Oh, I’m sorry, are you still griping because the comic strip Rex Morgan, M.D., doesn’t do medical-themed storylines often enough for your taste? Well, they’re just going to spend weeks on the most boring injuries you can imagine until you beg for more stuff about “roots country” or whatever the fuck.

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Beetle Bailey, 3/31/22

Look, I have carefully curated my entire lifestyle so that I don’t have to know or care about the pop culture references or aesthetic sensibilities of anyone born after 2002. So it’s not entirely clear to me if the kids today are into ghastly backpacks that look like a nightmare version of human head with a zipped-up mouth, or if the brains behind Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC, who I assume have curated their lifestyles so that they don’t have to know or care about the pop culture references or aesthetic sensibilities of anyone born after 1964, just assume that this is a thing the kids today are into. Either way, I don’t care for it.

Dick Tracy, 3/31/22

Every time we’ve seen a performance from Vitamin’s new talent who parodies Tonsils, a cacophonic singer who almost killed Dick Tracy, he’s drawn with his arms like that. He’s not supposed to have six arms (you have to clarify these things with Dick Tracy, though if the did have six arms he’d be named something like “Sixarm” or “Armsix”), so I guess it’s supposed to represent a gesture of some sort, and this other lady is doing it too, now, so: fine, I’ll ask. What is it. What’s the gesture. Is it a jerk-off motion. Is “oh the rainbow turned muddy” some kind of code for masturbation that I’m unfamiliar with. I’m almost as grumpy as Dick is here.

Crankshaft, 3/31/22

Look, I don’t care if Crankshaft dies because he didn’t take his pills, or because he took too many of his pills. I just want him dead. It honestly doesn’t really even need to be pill related.