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For Better Or For Worse, 11/13/06

OK, so maybe this final panel doesn’t mean what we all think it means. Maybe it’s been punctuated wrong. Maybe Elizabeth means, “You’ve changed so much? I don’t believe it. I think you’re the same whiny, passive-aggressive, schlubby, boring, dull, soul-crushingly dull, boring, boring, boring, dull, annoying, whiny…”

Oh, who the hell am I fooling. TRUE LOVE CANNOT BE STOPPED.

Mary Worth, 11/13/06

Aw, see, Mary? She’s just as scared of you as you are of her! It’s like it is with bears! And speaking of bears…

Mark Trail, 11/13/06

Huh, some of that dialogue seems awful familiar … almost as if I’d heard it before somewhere else. But where could that have been?

Mark Trail, 11/11/06

God damn it, Mark Trail, don’t you move slowly enough without, you know, just repeating the same damn dialogue over two strips? At least Jake and Snake have swapped lines in what’s suddenly become some kind of low-rent, heavily armed Waiting for Godot. The giant rabbit has fled, presumably out of boredom.

I do have to admit that if I were in the process of being kidnapped by mulleted cabin-dwelling bearnappers, I would be profoundly uncomfortable to learn that my fate would be determined “back at the cave.”

Slylock Fox, 11/13/06

I’m not resentful that I spent five minutes staring at Slick Smitty’s coat, trying to figure out if the fact that he was wearing a suit and had rolled up his sleeves was a clue about the origin of his latest flight; nor do I begrudge the fact that the crucial clue to this puzzle is Smitty’s watch, which is completely illegible. Rather, I take umbrage on behalf of our broad-tailed, buck-toothed friend. Why is he just “the beaver”? Why doesn’t he get a patented Slylock Fox clever name, like “Bobby Beaver” or “Buford Beaver” or maybe even “Castor?” Instead it’s just “the beaver,” like they’re all alike, like their individuality doesn’t matter. This strip is racist.

Family Circus, 11/13/06

Translation: “When I grow up, I’m going to move as far away from the rest of you losers as the science of the age will allow.”

Marvin, 11/13/06

Wow, Marvin sure isn’t afraid to disparage Italians. Good thing none of them live in Indiana, right? Right? What? Uh oh.

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Judge Parker, 11/12/06

Oh man, Sunday’s pre-“Meanwhile” Judge Parker packs in as much queasy adolescent sexuality as a John Irving novel. The image of Ned sticking out her ass for her mother, and asking “You don’t think it’s too revealing … too sexy?” is somewhat alluring, but mostly horrifying. Abbey’s blatant look of mingled horror and arousal in panel five adds to the squirm. She probably would like to complain about her daughter’s trampy outfit, but realizes that she doesn’t really have the moral authority to do so since you can totally see her buttcrack in panel three.

By the way, Neddy, French women dress in sexy and stylish clothes, not like … that. Prepare to be mocked.

(Incidentally, Abbey isn’t Ned’s bio-mom … and I’m pretty certain Ned was adopted as a teenager. I’m not sure if that makes the underlying tension here better or not.)

Post-“Meanwhile,” the phrase “Nice work, Celeste … you smell like a still!” may be the best marital put-down this side of the Lockhorns. Still, it’s nice that Reggie gave her a full two hours get her drunken mess of a life together enough to get to the press conference.

Beetle Bailey, 11/12/06

There’s a lot to hate about today’s Beetle Bailey. It follows the weird stumbly, improvised, cumulative-joke rhythm that’s been somewhat typical of the Sunday strips of late. I also wonder what happened to Beetle’s perfectly presentable t-shirt-and-shorts combo while he was in the truck, or why Miss Buxley is the only person Beetle can think of to call in his predicament, or how Miss Buxley could possibly be so femme that she doesn’t own any clothing item that isn’t a dress, or any shoes that aren’t high heels. However, I’d like to reserve the brunt of my ire for the phrase “But it sure left its output,” which has never been and will never be uttered by any speaker of idiomatic English ever.

Mary Worth, 11/12/06

As Mary walks towards her date with destiny, it’s amazing just how rattled she is. First off, in the first panel she appears to actually be practicing her first greeting to her new archrival. In panel three, she looks like she’s sneaking down the hall way, ready to leap around the corner and bash in roller-suitcase-woman’s skull with her pan. But mostly I’m charmed by the look of grim determination on her face, which gives way to an utterly insincere smile in the final panel. Next week is going to be great.

Family Circus, 11/12/06

The lesson: You can’t have nice things when your kids are morons.

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Family Circus, 11/6/06

I try not to get into personal analysis of comics writers’ lives here, but it’s just so damn much fun with the Family Circus. Since thinly veiled Jeff has taken over writing duties for the thinly veiled Keane family, I’m always on the lookout for new dips in little Jeffy’s emotional roller coaster ride. Today, I have to ask: sure, it’s condescending to be referred to as “little man,” but is the look of pure unfiltered rage and disgust in panel two really called for? The microwaved whatever is made to look almost Calvin-level icky as if to try to get us on his side, but I’m thinking that anyone over the age of eight is going to identify much more strongly with Daddy, who is unflappable in the face of his little squaller’s disdain, possibly because he’s drunk.

Speaking of dad’s raging alcohol problem, since she hasn’t been tempted by Hillary Clinton to engage in some kind of anti-Christian outside-the-home economic activity, one wonders where exactly the family matriarch is at the moment, when she clearly should be whipping up some lunch from scratch for our picky redhead. Perhaps she’s finally up and left all together due to the boozin’, and this is day five of the hellish aftermath. “Hey, kid, at least your lunch is warm, OK? I’ve eaten Cheez-Its for dinner three nights in a row!”