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?”

Post Content

Mary Worth, 1/14/13

Could Dr. Jeff’s instincts about Mary’s platonic male cake-making partner have been right? If John’s really just a widowed amateur cakemaker, looking to win a contest and break into this high-pressure, rewarding world, then why is he rubbing his hands together and sneering like a supervillain in panel two? “I want to show you my design, Mary … it’s a giant laser, made entirely out of cake, and capable of destroying a city with a push of a button! Who’s just some retired innkeeper with a dumb William Powell mustache now, eh? Eh? MOO HA HA HA HA!”

Family Circus, 1/14/13

Good lord, this is one of the saddest Family Circuses I’ve ever seen. Dolly and Jeffy’s purposeful stride, Dolly’s narrowed eyes, and Grandma’s stricken expression pretty much make it clear that the Keane Kids simply walked out on their grandmother in mid-anecdote. “We get, it, Grandma, things were different when you were our age. How about telling us what things were like when you were old enough to be interesting but not old enough to be boring? What were the cool drugs? What famous dudes did you mess around with? Did you ever stab a man in self-defense, or for fun? We’ll be in the other room, watching TV and picking our noses, any time you want to come and get real with the reminiscing.”

Shoe, 1/14/13

Notice the contrast between Shoe and the Perfesser’s reactions in panel two. Shoe displays this strip’s Trademark Goggle Eyes Of Horror at hearing that Roz holds no strong opinion about a feature in his newspaper. He’s genuinely shocked that a citizen isn’t interested in the opportunity to make her opinions known to the world. The Perfesser, meanwhile, maintains his soul-numbed, heavy-lidded expression. He knows he works for a second-rate publication that’s part of a dying industry. He knows nobody cares about what he does and that once he dies his life’s body of work will be instantly forgotten. This is what the world has to offer. It is what he has come to expect.

Dick Tracy, 1/14/13

A metaphor for our fallen nation: now that “Lake Freedom” has been drained, we need some kind of elitist college professor just explain to us how to open a metal box. CAN YOU HEAR THE EAGLES WEEPING?