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Spider-Man, 1/21/10

I was too bored to even mention it at the time, but yesterday Aunt May passed out and our subterranean clergyman pretended to be a doctor and diagnosed her with “Spelunker’s Lung.” Today, the cave-priest admits to not being a doctor after all, but still insists that his diagnosis and prescribed remedy are accurate. He can’t be certain, but he’s certain she’ll die, unless she gets out of this cave! And Mole Man, emoting so very hard that his gloved hands break out of the third panel, will give up his one shot at love, so that his love may live.

Ha ha, “Spelunker’s Lung,” totally a made-up thing, right? Well, a little Googling seems to imply that this is one of several common names for Histoplasmosis. Let’s learn about this affliction from Wikipedia, shall we?

Histoplasmosis … is a disease caused by the fungus Histoplasma capsulatum. Symptoms of this infection vary greatly, but the disease primarily affects the lungs. Occasionally, other organs are affected; this is called disseminated histoplasmosis, and it can be fatal if left untreated.

Yes, that’s right: Spider-man was not able to rescue Aunt May from her underground marriage, so a microscopic fungus had to do it for him. Truly this is his greatest failure in superheroism yet!

Also, if information about this important newspaper Spider-man plot point is not added post-haste to the “Society and Culture” section of that Histoplasmosis Wikipedia article, along with descriptions of references to the disease in episodes of House and Dexter, then everything I think I know about the world is wrong.

Gasoline Alley, 1/21/11

Whoops, it looks like some history-challenged colorist has accidentally dressed Robert E. Lee and his men in Union blue. Hope you enjoy your thousands of angry letters lecturing you about the true history of the War of Northern Aggression, Tribune Media Services!

Family Circus, 1/21/11

From the action and the hairstyles on screen, I’d guess that Mommy has taken Jeffy to a porno, circa 1978. From Mommy’s tiny head and pencil neck sitting atop her impossibly broad shoulders, I’d guess that “Mommy” is some kind of quickly constructed dummy or mannequin, designed to fool Jeffy into thinking that he’s still being cared for long enough for the real Mommy to escape into the night.

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Momma, 1/14/11

It’s been a long time since I’ve checked in with Momma’s passive-aggressive, vaguely incestuous stylings, and today’s entry is so delightfully absurd that I hesitate to try “explain” what it might “mean.” Are we to imagine that Francis has stuffed his nice hat so full of clothes that it has ridiculously stretched out? Or that Momma, in her dotage, went all knit-crazy and made a ludicrously oversized hat for her son? Or that Francis, having long ago traded away the precious maternal keepsake for beer or whatever, just tells the first improbable lie that comes into his head, betting that his mother’s senility will cause her to quickly forget exactly what they’re talking about?

Also, this strip reaffirms my firm belief that black and white strips should not be colored in, because that allows me to imagine, based on the vague patterns visible, that Momma has knitted Francis some kind of oversized rasta hat.

Mary Worth, 1/14/11

A quick visit to the Website of the Four Seasons Bora Bora reveals that it is (a) awesome and (b) the equivalent of about $650 a night, so Jill’s guilt over a little light drunken rehearsal-dinner-ruining must have been quite acute. But I’m less interested in what Jill hocked to pay for this craziness (assuming she just didn’t create fake “vouchers” in Photoshop) and more interested in Adrian and Scott’s wildly different reactions. Remember, Scott was the one who suggested a honeymoon at the local Motel 6, while Adrian longed for an exotic voyage; so why is Scott grinning with manic intensity at the thought of sun and fun in the South Pacific, while Adrian is about to vomit in terror?

Curtis, 1/14/11

We’ve finally arrived at the lesson of this year’s Kwanzcaapade in Curtis, which appears to be: there’s nothing we can’t achieve if we work together a species, so long as we can just go back in time and correct all our mistakes.

Gasoline Alley, 1/14/11

With his pleas to his God having been rejected with contempt, Slim has quickly turned to nihilism. “Really, honey, in 100 years we’ll all be dead. All of us, just marching inexorably towards the grave, and nobody will remember we ever existed. Why bother? Why bother doing anything?”

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I normally don’t do this, but let’s backtrack a day to yesterday’s Gasoline Alley:

Gasoline Alley, 1/9/11

This is an actually rather poignant fantasy sequence in which Slim begs God to help him control his appetite. In awful display of self-loathing, Slim attempts to condition himself away from overeating by visualizing delicious foodstuffs as being created by horrifying demons, in hell. And how does God respond to Slim’s prayers?

Gasoline Alley, 1/10/11

Apparently by inspiring him with insatiable hunger, by means of the Bible! Though it could be that this Bible has become so mangled and rearranged that it has accidentally summoned up some of the food demons from yesterday’s strip. Another possible explanation is that Slim is just hungry.

Hi and Lois, 1/10/11

Meanwhile, Dot and Ditto seem eager to give thanks to God, despite the fact that He has cursed them with deformed lobster-claw hands.

Marvin, 1/10/111

You know, when most babies show a signs that they might become ill, the adults who care for them show concern, monitoring their health and perhaps even seeking medical attention. But that doesn’t apply to Marvin, the worst baby in the world! Instead, his family has abandoned him on the couch, hopefully to die.