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Family Circus, 1/19-20/06

Lotta hate in the Family Cicrus over the past couple of days. Billy’s the cool one, all anodyne disdain, hitting on the fact that the worst that can happen to him is meaningless, which means that there are no rules and nothing to hold him back from fulfilling every desire of his id, from putting his contempt for his fellow Circus members on display for all to see. Jeffy, as usual, is more volatile, his hatred of his family and himself breaking out uncontrollably as he flies into a vicious rage for no reason. Poor Dolly is there to mutely bear the brunt of the bad behavior. Don’t worry about it, honey: it’s about their own demons, not you.

I add here today’s classic Peanuts from 1959, in case the Keanes want to see just how dark a kid’s soul can get.

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Family Circus, 1/16/06

I’m not sure what’s more alarming about this panel: how damn satisfied all of Billy’s little friends look in the aftermath of his killer grandmother-related anecdote, or how smug Billy himself looks for having told it. I’m also perplexed by the very notion of cute-grandmother-story-time in modern American public schools. Shouldn’t these eight-year-olds be desperately cramming for the next round of No Child Left Behind Act-mandated standardized tests rather than laxidasicaly swapping amusing stories about their elderly relatives?

By the way, I’m assuming that by “cute,” Billy’s teacher means “incontinence-themed.”

Meanwhile, in Judge Parker, the double-entendre horror continues:

Honestly, it’s like they’re trying to make it impossible for me not to be puerile.

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Family Circus, 12/18/05

There’s all sorts of interesting things to say theologically about Sunday’s Family Circus, like about how different manifestations of God fulfill different needs within the human soul, or how monotheistic religions gradually develop an array of more accessible intercessor figures, and blah blah blah. Mostly what I want to point out about this comic is HOLY CRAP GOD’S THRONE IS FRICKIN’ SWEET. Seriously, I want one of those in my house in front of the TV. Though it doesn’t look all that comfortable, seeing as He appears to not be sitting on His Throne so much as standing in His Celestial Witness Box. But still, it’s pimped out. I could do with the mobs of pygmy-sized seraphim singing my praises, too, while I just lean back with my palms extended soaking it all up.

Several people wrote to me claiming that the blinged-out golden G at the top of this piece of omnipotent furniture indicates that God Almighty is a Green Bay Packers fan. Bite your tongue! Green Bay may be one of the oldest teams in the NFL, but God, and presumably His Throne, have existed since before time began, so a certain midwestern football team should just consider itself lucky that it hasn’t heard from the divine legal department regarding trademark infringement. However, the fact that this particular initial adorns the Heavenly Chair confirms what we here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. have known for years, which is that God speaks English.

Note that God’s radiance is very similar to Margo’s. The theological implications of that are frankly way too disturbing for me to dwell on.