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Family Circus, 3/4/10

Today’s comics mostly didn’t grab me, but I did quite enjoy this installment from the 50th anniversary flashbacks to the first week of the Family Circus. Dolly, grinning like a meth-crazed demon, announces to a horrified gathering of Eisenhower-era matrons that she plans to end her little recital with a tune about a stab-happy killer from a Weimar-era Marxist agitprop musical. Her accompanist (mother?) is too enfeebled to resist her demands, barely being able to maintain consciousness as her horrifically tight girdle squeezes all the air out of her lungs, but someone’s going to be turned over to HUAC before the afternoon is out. Can it just be 1960 in the Family Circus forever?

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Apartment 3-G, 2/19/10

Say, it’s been a while since we checked in with Margo. What’s she up to? Destroying Eric Mills’s legacy of presenting the work of talented artists to a discriminating public, it appears! “Look, Jack, it doesn’t matter what you think; I’ve already signed the franchise agreement. Starting tomorrow, the Mills Gallery is rebranded as Mills Gallery Presents: Thomas Kinkade®, Painter of Light™.”

Oh, also, we get some bonus parental sassing. Jack appears to appreciate it as well. “I can’t agree with her business decisions, but darned if I don’t love her moxie! I wonder if she likes jowly, balding men who appear to be older than her father?”

(By the way, it’s good to see that Margo no longer suffers PTSD attacks just from hearing the syllable “zip.”)

Family Circus, 2/19/10

The problem with creating all-ages entertainment is that it tends to go for the lowest common denominator. Thus, this game, which is easy enough for Big Daddy Keane to play, has clearly bored P.J. out of his mind. Look at him there, holding onto his cards, and obviously dreaming of playing no-limit poker or something that might actually engage him a little.

Jumble, 2/19/10

Holy crap, over the last couple of days the Jumble has been laying down some serious and radical social commentary! Ha ha, while you poor saps go hungry in your empty kitchen, this rich lady sits in her chair ordering her servants about! Once again the blank letters for the solution aren’t numerous enough for the obvious answer: SOAKED THEM IN THE BLOOD OF THE MASSES.

Spider-Man, 2/19/10

Hey, Sabretooth, why are you so sure that only Spider-Man knows where Wolverine is? Have you even considered asking anyone else? I think you’re hurting Daredevil’s feelings; he probably keeps swinging by you hoping you’ll strike up a conversation.

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Mary Worth, 2/18/10

Oh my goodness, SO MANY DRAMAS AND SADNESSES in today’s Mary Worth! Dawn abruptly puts a stop to her intimate moment with Wilbur as she notices Kurt lurking in the other room, puking into his hand. Then she dishes some dirt about her father’s inability to sustain a relationship. “Yeah, after mom woke up one day and said ‘Holy Christ, I’m married to Wilbur Weston?’ I lived in Connecticut with her … until I got caught robbing a liquor store, and the judge told me I had to choose between juvie and moving to California to live with my dad. When I think about the fact that I’d be a free woman back on the streets again if I’d made that first choice, whereas now I’m still living here … ugh, it gives me chills. Anyway, you didn’t miss much, trust me.” Meanwhile, Wilbur, left to his own devices, has immediately wandered back to the computer, desperately trolling Facebook for more long-lost offspring who will at least briefly pretend to love him.

Dick Tracy, 2/18/10

A wild-eyed maniac spouting nonsense? A group of lanky shadow-figures, waving their arms about in panic? An extreme close-up on the stylized face of a woman keening a single piercing note of pure terror? The best Dick Tracy in many a moon? Yes, yes, yes, and yes!

Beetle Bailey, 2/18/10

It appears that Killer’s constant tree-fucking ways aren’t just expressions of his perverted nature; he’s actually part of a top-secret military experiment to breed intelligent and deadly tree-human hybrids. You know who’s going to freak out and emit a single panicked ball of sweat when he sees one of those hairy prehensile root-tentacles slithering into his cave? Osama bin Laden, that’s who!

Family Circus, 2/18/10

Mommy and daddy better not hear that traitor talk, Dolly, or someone’s going to learn that one ought not to let one’s aesthetics affect one’s patriotic allegiances … in Gitmo.

Jumble, 2/18/10

As it features a desperate looking couple sitting around a kitchen that’s almost completely empty except for a pile of bills, I’m pretty sure this is most depressing Jumble ever. I keep staring at the answer blanks, and all I can think of to put there is “HAVE ANY MONEY.”