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Family Circus, 6/11/05

This is the sort of trash you’re going to encounter if you insist on bringing your precious little angel onto public transportation instead of safely strapping her into her car seat in the back of your SUV as you shuttle her from strip mall to strip mall in your pristine, tattooed-hippie-free suburb. I mean, look at this guy! The tattoos are bad enough, of course, but check out the mushy red worker’s cap — he’s probably in the Wobblies or something. And his hair would almost be long enough to touch his collar — if he had a collar, which he doesn’t. Freak.

Why are Mommy and Dolly on the bus with all the ghetto puds, anyway? And why is Dolly wearing that weirdly matronly dress? Maybe Daddy got drunk and obnoxious one time too many, and Mommy grabbed her only girl-child, wrapped her up in the first thing she could find, and headed to the Greyhound station looking for a new life. Why, Mr. Magic Markers could be her new best friend! I bet he’d learn little miss mouthy some manners real quick.

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Family Circus, 5/30/05

A one-panel comic is all punchline, and a skillfully crafted one can derive much of its power from making the reader imagine the scenario that played out to lead up to the presented conclusion. I’d like to think that in the half-hour or so immediately before today’s Family Circus, Daddy took the measure of his eldest’s pitching ability and pounded homer after homer into the next subdivision, barely breaking a sweat and sporting that smug little smile as he systematically broke Billy’s self-confidence and will to live. “When you came along, Billy,” he thinks, “I lost my youth and privacy, I was no longer first in my wife’s affections, and I was ever more firmly shackled to a white-collar job I hate and a soulless suburban home I loathe. Every day I look at your fresh young face, full of life and vigour, and I’m reminded that I’m getting older and closer to death. But by God, at least you can’t get a fastball by me yet.” Then — pow! — another run scored for Team Grown-up. Finally, as the ache in Jeffy’s knees begins to become almost unbearable while he waits for the strike that will never come, Billy attempts to salvage some shred of dignity while begging for mercy. I like to think that Daddy replies with a sneering “Screw you, kid — bunting is for pussies” before sending Billy scrambling with a line drive aimed right at his grossly oversized head.

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Family Circus, 4/3/05

Adorable mispronunciation? Classic Family Circus. Little kid lying face down, face twisted in pain, wondering what happened to the promised unconditional love and help from his big brother — love that they both knew, deep down in their hearts, he couldn’t provide? That, my friends, is a classic glimpse into dark, tormented soul of Jeffy Keane. I’m not sure what the context is for this little family drama, but wherever there’s Bette Midler blasting on the boom box, something non-alcoholic in the pitcher, and unsupervised little kids flinging themselves off of hills, you know there’s fun to be had.