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Funky Winkerbean, 5/22/14

In case you forgot, the title of Les’s book about his dead wife Lisa dying of cancer is Lisa’s Story, which is a terrible boring title that conveys zero information about the book’s tone, genre, or content. At least with a book there’s a cover and a subtitle to draw in attention; as a movie title, Lisa’s Story would be wholly meaningless and an instant kiss of death. In other words, I’m looking forward to this Funky Winkerbean storyline about heroic marketing professionals in the entertainment industry doing their job to the best of their ability in the face of impossible odds.

Judge Parker, 5/22/14

I can’t remember if we ever got an origin story on these diamonds, but based on the players involved the best-case scenario is that Abbott purchased them from a legal, licensed dealer with the millions he made over the years from selling weapons to despotic governments, violent rebel militias, and terrorist fanatics. The worst-case scenario involves a private slave-worked mine in Sierra Leone given to him by a grateful warlord as a thank-you for a long and fruitful business relationship, and is probably best not dwelled upon. Anyway, just sit tight, Randy! Everything is going to be fine! … for you.

Spider-Man, 5/22/14

I’m intrigued by the statement “he can’t play Doctor Octopus anymore,” as it seems to imply that Octavius’s villainous identity was no more than a role, a character he was putting on, and now that his mechanical arms have been somehow detached from his body, he returns to his essential “real” self. Anyway, “Spider-Man fights bio-mechanical madman with super-strong metal arms” was obviously way too exciting for the newspaper Spider-Man narrative aesthetic, so let’s all settle in for “Spider-Man fights portly scientist with bowl haircut.”

Gasoline Alley, 5/22/14

“That’s right, and I won’t get to work in a mine until I’m 18, thanks to these job-killing, innovation-stifling government regulations!”

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Gasoline Alley, 3/14/14

Well thank goodness the violent chaos is over in Gasoline Alley! Now we can get back to the strip’s stock in trade: long, drawn-out hyperrealism that hammers home the ennui of middle-class American life. Look forward to the next six weeks of “There’s a problem with Sheezix’s tickets,” which ought to rival the mannered intensity of 2012’s “Sheezix tries to return a DVD player” and 2011’s “Sheezix tries to fix his washing machine.”

Mary Worth, 3/14/14

Wow, this strip is suddenly leaning pretty hard on the “Tommy’s salvation is a post office job” thing. Are potential employees so afraid that the financially troubled agency will collapse that it’s being forced to woo the unemployable to apply for jobs with paid storylines in Mary Worth? “Ex-con? Ex-drug addict? Career opportunities in the U.S. Postal Service await you! If you can make mail-related puns in your mind, we want you!”

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Gasoline Alley, 2/28/14

Who knew that even with the Tommy’s triumphant return to Mary Worth it’d be Gasoline Alley that would have me riveted? I will keep bringing you reports of this formerly peaceful town’s descent into an awful bloodbath. Today the representatives of the media, ostensibly there to report on the carnage, turn on each other as society’s rules break down and the battle between print and broadcast news outlets is suddenly very much no longer metaphorical.

Six Chix, 2/28/14

It’s true: our privacy and autonomy under siege. Our own governments snoop on our communications incessantly; for white-collar workers who spend all day at their computers, their own employers are a more immediate threat, since all corporate emails and IMs are carefully monitored. Thus, our spooked office crowd has fallen back to the most primitive method of exchanging information: whispering to one another. THERE I TRIED TO MAKE SENSE OF THIS CARTOON I REALLY TRIED NOW I’M TIRED GONNA GO LIE DOWN FOR A WHILE