Archive: Family Circus

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Luann, 6/9/09

Say, did somebody mention “view[ing] Luann’s treatment of human sexuality with mingled fascination and horror”? Oh, yeah, I did! Well, today’s strip offers an insight into the origins of the squick that hangs over this feature like a squirm-inducing black cloud by proposing a typical fair as some sort of carny-staffed aphrodisiac. Let’s go over each item presented as potentially arousing in turn, shall we?

  • The smells: A heady melange of fryer grease, unwashed barnyard animal, sweaty humans, feces from said animals, and barf from said humans.
  • The food: Dripping in grease and inappropriately deep fried.
  • The rides: “Wait, has this thing been inspected by anybody? I don’t like that grinding noise it’s making, and I don’t think the door is shutting all the way … also, it’s hard to grip onto the handlebar, because somebody appears to have puked on it.”
  • The animals: Sheep, pigs, and cows, all trotted out of their barns so they can be inspected by those who plan to kill and butcher them!

In other words, the “whole hot, earthy, exciting atmosphere” is a tremendous boner-killer for any right-thinking person. I’m frankly amazed that the Tilt-a-Whirl upchuck incident didn’t just turn Mr. DeGroot on further.

Mark Trail, 6/9/09

There is absolutely no strip on the comics page today that can deliver the laughs like Mark Trail. I certainly hope that the Williams Chemical Company is an enormous publicly traded multinational corporation, and that Mark spends a baffling day being shuffled between the plant manager, the operations manager, the CEO, the COO, the chief environmental officer, the chief quality officer, the chairman of the board, and the heads of the major stockholder factions before becoming frustrated and just punching out postindustrial capitalism itself.

Apartment 3-G, 6/9/09

“Wait … Eric is such a nobody that this newscaster can’t even remember his name without reading it off a sheet of paper? GASP! I must break off the engagement at once!”

Family Circus, 6/9/09

Well, Jeffy, it looks like you’re going to have to take some of that stuff out of your suitcase before you leave! Don’t worry, I’m sure that the other children at the orphanage will be happy to share their toys and clothes with you!

Funky Winkerbean, 6/9/09

“HA HA HA HA HA! Get it! I took what you said, but then reversed it! HA HA HA HA HA! Hey, wait a minute, are your pants unbuttoned?”

Panel from Spider-Man, 6/9/09

Meanwhile, over in Spider-Man, Wolverine is posing for his yearbook photo.

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Mary Worth, 6/8/09

As I demanded, so has it been done: POOL PARTY! You don’t know what it’s been like, knowing from your comments that a pool party was in progress but forced to toil on other more lucrative projects rather than enjoy my comics-stories. Now that I’m here, though, it’s pretty darn awesome. Ian is, as one would expect, resplendent in his fuzzy electric blue jacket, and Mary is sporting a kicky black jumper. But I’m most intrigued by the pair of gents in white shirts and high-waisted pants. The dark-haired fellow in panel one, wearing khaki pants and a t-shirt, is posing as if hoping to be discovered by the manager of a low-end clothing catalog. But in panel two, we catch a glimpse, obscured behind Toby’s word balloon blather, of sandy-haired character in baby blue slacks and a luminous polo shirt. Will their eyes meet across the crowded courtyard? Will they chat about how difficult it is to find belts that are the exact same color as one’s pants, and will romance blossom? STAY TUNED!

Speaking of blossoming romance, what are we to make of Toby’s awkward “I loved how she and her husband got together”? My question hinges on the use of “how.” In many cases in casual conversation, “how” simply means “the fact that” (i.e., “I love how Mary is drinking wood-grain alcohol through a straw”), and thus Toby’s statement conveys nothing more than bland approval for a successful coupling. But if “how” is taken to mean “the way in which,” then we must presume there is some sort of meet-cute backstory here (hopefully to be conveyed in ham-handed flashback form). If that’s the case, we may learn that this storyline’s lesson will be the same as the last’s: that the only marriages that last are those in which the groom is selected by the bride’s father from the families of his close associates.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/8/09

Boy, I sure lost interest in this Rex Morgan storyline, didn’t I? If you haven’t been following along, take my word for it that it’s been extremely dull and not even a little bit gay. I admit to being amused by panel one here, though, in which formerly eager-to-please (and formerly black) Guido Tomas rages histrionically upon being revealed as a human trafficker. I think “I am the second officer!” is a somewhat funny thing to yell if you’re pulling the “Don’t you know who I am” card. “Unhand me! My authority derives from the Law of the Sea, and from a bankrupt cruise line! Look, my uniform has epaulets and yours do not! Does that not make it clear that I am of higher status than you?”

Gil Thorp, 6/8/09

Could anything be more pleasing than the final panel in today’s Gil Thorp, in which the sweaty, exhausted Mudlarks collapse and/or vomit onto to the outfield in exhaustion? I suppose it could be topped if the next several days consist of panel after wordless panel of the scene of carnage, with unconscious teenagers flopped pell-mell everywhere, like the famous crane shot of Confederate wounded in Gone With The Wind, and then the next two years are taken up with Gil and the school board defending themselves in the massive lawsuit that will inevitably follow.

Archie, 6/8/09

Insulated from consequences and separated from the common herd by his Croesus-like wealth, Mr. Lodge has gone mad with power and begun conducting experiments on human subjects to satisfy his idle curiosity. “I wonder if this cholesterol medication has been approved by the FDA?” “The pills sure look effective, don’t they? Why not try eight or twelve and see what happens?”

Family Circus, 6/8/09

Generally speaking, if you crush a child’s sense of fun and whimsy early, the transition to white-collar drudgery is significantly less traumatic.

Pluggers, 6/8/09

A plugger’s night on the town could unfold in pretty much exactly the same sequence, at exactly the same stores and restaurants, in any town in America, which is kind of depressing.

Wizard of Id, 6/8/09

Ha ha! It’s funny because prisoners receive substandard health care!

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Marmaduke, 6/1/09

I suppose that Marmaduke’s owner’s wobbly, knock-kneed stance and one-sided smirk are supposed to convey “coquettish feigned innocence,” and that we are meant to understand that she has left her tired old penny loafers out in the middle of the floor, possibly after having covered them with steak sauce, so that Marmaduke will eat them and she’ll get to buy exciting new penny loafers. This is all well and good, but harnessing Marmaduke’s insatiable appetite for organic or quasi-organic matter to solve one’s problems can lead down a dangerous path. I shudder to imagine the scene, a few months hence, when Marmaduke’s owner arrives home to find the mangled corpses of her children strewn across the foyer. “Oh no!” she’ll exclaim. “Now I’ll have to figure out something fun to do with the money in their college savings accounts!”

Family Circus, 6/1/09

I actually find this cartoon kind of poignant, mostly because of what you can barely see written on the paper: “Chapt 1 I’m bored.” Is this some sort of creative writing assignment, where the students are allowed to write their own novels, their stories limited only by their imagination? Has the task brought Billy face to face with his essential emptiness, a fundamental lack of creative energy? Is he bored inside his own head? His enormous, misshapen head?

Hi and Lois, 6/1/09

I was going to make a crack here about the Flagstons’ depressing, sexless marriage, but then I remembered how awful it was when they last telegraphed to us their intentions to get freaky, so: yes, this is exactly how I expect — nay, require — Hi and Lois to spend their precious few hours of alone time.

Slylock Fox, 6/1/09

Really, Sly? Industrial espionage? That … that just seems beneath you.