Post Content

Mark Trail, 2/2/13

Usually Mark Trail flashback fashion takes us to the depths of the Eisenhower administration, which is why I am 100% amazed and flabbergasted (in a good way) by “Catfish” here. Now, none of us like to stereotype, but admit it: you probably imagined Catfish would be would be an angry, beefy guy with a mullet or perhaps a chubby fellow with a big white beard; either way, he’d be wearing overalls, obviously. BUT NO! No, Catfish is a bald sprite of a man who went back in time to 1987 and stole a sweet Ocean Pacific t-shirt out of my bedroom. He is such an odd bird in the sartorial world of Mark Trail that I am pretty much willing to forgive whatever crimes against competitive fishing ethics are going on in that van.

Herb and Jamaal, 2/2/13

Meanwhile, today’s unannounced “Classic Herb and Jamaal” is a repeat from barely two years ago! Although maybe even that appearance was itself a repeat from back when someone might have actually said “online talk rooms” and believed himself a vaguely with-it human being.

Archie, 2/2/13

I’m going to pass over the ostensible action of this strip — is Mr. Lodge’s “antique doo-dad” the table itself? How does one break a table? Wouldn’t even gluing a broken table-chunk back onto the table leave a visible seam? Does Jughead not know the world “table”? — and just point out that Archie really can pull off those skinny plaid yellow pants, though pairing them with the baggy sea-foam sweater is a bit suspect.

Funky Winkerbean, 2/2/13

Oh hi there, would you like a little secret illegitimate daughter in your grueling stroke recovery storyline?

Family Circus, 2/2/13

I genuinely love how unimpressed Jeffy is by Dolly’s dramatic theological musings. “I don’t know much about celestial courtesy, girl, all I know is that I just ran out of clean tissues and your shirt looks awfully inviting.”

Post Content

Family Circus, 1/28/13

Ma and Pa Keane — and, for that matter, Billy — are suspiciously absent in this filthy, ill-mannered breakfast scene, in which Jeffy is balancing his toast on his knee, Dolly is emitting some kind of fluid from her left arm, and PJ is just stone cold rubbing his ass on the table. Where are the elders? Have they and their tyranny finally been overthrown bloodily by the younger half of the Keane Kompound’s population? Is the “morning” on which this breakfast is being eaten actually a metaphorical new dawn of freedom, and it’s really 5:30 p.m., because now nobody can stop Dolly, Jeffy, and PJ from eating whatever they want whenever they want?

Herb and Jamaal, 1/28/13

Oh, Herb and Jamaal, you’ve had more than eight years to think about what you’ve done wrong, and still haven’t figured it out.

Pluggers, 1/28/13

You know, I live only a few blocks form one of the U.S.’s most competitive universities and see smart, upscale young students going to the store or to restaurants in their pajamas pretty much daily, so this isn’t just a plugger thing. It is true that pluggers are incapable of figuring out how to set up Netflix, though.

Post Content

Crock, 1/20/13

I continue to be puzzled and irritated by the continuing existence of Crock, which, after publicly insulting me, decided to waltz off into the sunset. The official line was that new Crocks would cease on May 20, 2012, and King Features would supply “Classic Crocks” to newspapers for the next three years. Except the post-May 20 strips have looked not like classics (which I perhaps optimistically assumed meant installments from the early years of the feature) but instead pretty much like the last few years worth of strips, except not repeats, so I have no idea what their story is. Anyway, I bring this up not to harp on it endlessly, but only to suggest that maybe it’s only in this weird, ambiguous afterlife that the strip finally feels free to make a searing indictment of the practices of modern capitalism.

Family Circus, 1/20/13

I’m pretty pleased by the sight of little Jeffy stooped over under the weight of his own sadness, and since his parents always seem to hold their little redheaded son in a fair amount of contempt, I’m a little surprised they aren’t as tickled as I am by it. I’m at least assuming that their shared glance is less “What can we do to cheer him up” and more “Are you fucking kidding me?”