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Archive: Gil Thorp

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“Families still didn’t talk to each other, if that’s what you’re asking”

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Shoe, 6/19/14

Someday in the far future, when the only relic of 21st century human culture is a multi-volume hardcopy of TV Tropes, laboriously hand-copied and bound in a post-apocalyptic monastery, I will be chiefly remembered for coining the word nephewism to describe a scenario where fictional characters live with their aunts and/or uncles for never-quite-explained reasons. The relationship between Skyler and his Uncle Cosmo seems like a particularly grim version of this. Cosmo grudgingly supplies Skyler with a roof under which to sleep, thanks to blood ties and a ghostly memory of affection for a presumably deceased sibling, but that seems to be about it. Certainly we never see the two of them eating anything resembling a family meal; usually the Perfesser sits too close to the TV eating off his tray and and Skyler is left to fend for himself. There isn’t even another chair in the living room for the kid to sit on. I guess he’ll be eating his TV dinner in his bedroom, assuming he has microwave privileges.

Mary Worth, 6/19/14

There have been some hints so far in this storyline that Olive’s parents have been less than thrilled with her wild imagination, presumably to set them up as the villains, so you’d think that they’d be rather horrified by this pronouncement, and yet they seem to be giving each other pleased knowing glances in panel two. A possible clue: note the WOW CHIPS in the background of the first panel. WOW was a brand used by Frito-Lay in the mid ’90s to identify products that contained Olestra; Olestra, if you’re too young to remember, was an artificial fat substitue that had some less than pleasant effects on the human digestion system, leading to a tortuous negotiation between the food industry and the FDA over a vaguely commercially viable synonym for “anal leakage” that could be used in an on-package warning label (the compromise arrived at was “loose stools”). Anyway, Olestra never really took off, for obvious reasons, so I’m guessing the WOW brand is now being used for chips with similarly dodgy ingredients — mild hallucinogens, say — and so Olive’s parents are glad they’ve finally fed her enough of the stuff to get some marketable visions out of her.

Gil Thorp, 6/19/14

The past six weeks of Gil Thorp have focused relentlessly, and crushingly boringly, on the love affair between Amy and Lucky, and both kids’ inchoate ideas about good and bad luck and how they’re stealing it from each other, and it’s been so super boring that I barely made it through that sentence. Anyway, I just want to point that Gil somehow getting his players SUPER REVVED UP about clawing their way into a tie for second in the conference neatly summarizes the Mudlarks’ usual sports competence.

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Don’t worry about Crankshaft, he can only make his family suffer if he’s still alive

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Gil Thorp, 5/9/14

Yeah, what’s with the hand? Or the hands plural, for that matter? Why is one of them all turned around at a weird, unnatural angle? Why is the other one flapping in the direction of the first one, fingers splayed, as if that’s a gesture that’s used by humans to convey information of some kind? What’s with the hands? It’s what we’ve wondered for years about this strip, so I’m glad someone’s finally worked up the nerve to ask.

Apartment 3-G, 5/9/14

Speaking as someone who writes dumb jokes about newspaper comics on the Internet for a living, I do sort of understand the appeal of “real work” that Tommie’s talking about here — not enough to actually do any of it, you understand, but I can sort of see it. But it’s worth pointing out that before she came out to the country to shovel horse poop in exchange for room and board, Tommie was a nurse, which strikes me as pretty real? You’re not supposed to get your hands dirty, though, what with the danger of deadly infections. Maybe Tommie was just tired of the relentlessly sanitary hospital environment?

Crankshaft, 5/9/14

This week Crankshaft has been poking a little light-hearted fun at golf by explaining the emotions a golfer experiences after a whiff in terms of the Kübler-Ross stages of grief one goes through after suffering the death of a loved one or other serious life trauma. Today we reach the Funkyverse’s natural level with stage four: depression. What’s more depressing than contemplating killing yourself? Why, contemplating what it’d be like to fail at killing yourself, just like you always fail at golf and everything else, of course!

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The Wehrmacht’s 6th Army misses the playdowns once again

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Gil Thorp, 5/3/14

Gil Thorp’s baseball-season storyline continues to be super boring, to the extent that today’s panel three got me thinking about how great it would be to see the Gil Thorp creative team take a few weeks off from high school sports action to give us a recap of the Battle of Stalingrad. It’d be all big flappy hands and confusing jumps back and forth to different indistinguishable soldiers in the various battle zones and occasional appearances by Field Marshal Erich von Manstein dispensing vague platitudes while wearing a shit-eating smirk. It would definitely be more interesting than whatever’s going on with Lucky Haskins’s academic problems, I tell you what.

Apartment 3-G, 5/3/14

Tommie has been under Jack’s Svengali-like sway for three whole weeks, which is plenty of time to get her into a routine, work her to exhaustion, and separate her from all desire to go back to her previous life. But he hasn’t stopped his scheming there, and frankly I approve of his plan to ply the formerly bearish Professor with carbs and cheese, as his new character design is far too emaciated for my taste.

Herb and Jamaal, 5/3/14

Yes, why would you solve a math problem with some dumb old “equation” when you could just use common sense instead? That … that would be a super power, honestly.