Post Content

Gil Thorp, 8/18/10

I feel like I’m turning into one of those old people who are always whining about how much better things used to be in the Old Days, when you could get drunk at lunch on weekdays and children were allowed to work in garment factories, but: summer used to mean something in Gil Thorp, man. It meant total madness. Remember 2007? Coach Kaz pimped himself out as a freelance badass and Gil taught a one-legged kid to box, in the same year? The seasons used to follow a predictable, stately rhythm: football, basketball, baseball/softball, lunacy.

But in 2010, this has now been downgraded to football, basketball, baseball/softball, golf. This summer hasn’t even had a hilarious b-plot to distract us from the annoying overbearing-father-cheating-on-golfing-son’s-behalf bull hockey we’ve been subjected to. Today’s the first time in nearly a month I’ve felt any compulsion to comment on the strip, and it’s just to note that Gil, having against all odds defeated the evil overbearing dad with his usual half-assed psychological warfare techniques, has decided to reward himself by getting blotto and watching the young people he’s ostensibly supposed to be coaching from the safe distance of the golf course’s clubhouse.

Mary Worth, 8/18/10

Wow, remember yesterday when I made a very silly and totally unrealistic joke about Richie getting gunned down in a drive-by? Well, it turns out that I can kill comics characters with my mind. Whom shall I mark for death next? Marvin? Brad DeGroot? Marvin and Brad in some kind of murder-suicide pact?

Post Content

Mary Worth, 7/29/10

I’m not going to lie to you: the deeper Dr. Mike sinks into misery, the happier I get. Thus I’m nearly ecstatic at the first-panel flashback, in which he mopes sullenly in the rain, having been stood up by his deadbeat dad once again, with only an albino pigeon for company. In panel two we see the present-day man tormented by these visions, and attempting to punch them out of his mind, or at least knock himself out and fall into blessed unconsciousness. Mary, watching over tented fingers, seemed stunned at just how quickly her latest meddle has gotten so awesome.

Momma, 7/29/10

But I don’t want you to think that I wish ill to all inhabitants of the comics pages! For instance, poor Tina is one of the minor characters whose plight I feel most keenly. She’s been exposed to this sort of Oedipal horror for the entire duration of her marriage, but from her crumpled mouth and thousand-mile stare in panel three, I’m thinking that today may be the day when she finally snaps.

Beetle Bailey, 7/29/10

Camp Swampy’s base doctor was a good choice to conduct the terrible medical experiments that the government is secretly carrying out on unwitting human subjects, since he appears to be literally incapable of empathy.

EXCITING CONTEST OPPORTUNITY: You have all probably been wondering “Why is Gil Thorp wasting its time this summer on golf, the most boring sport in existence, without even the fun of Marty Moon being humiliated?” Well, it might have something to do with a little contest being run by the Detroit News, which employs Gil Thorp writer Neal Rubin to write about sports as his day job. Readers vote for a News writer; whoever gets the most votes will get $500 bucks for his or her favorite charity, and one person who voted for the winner will be selected at random to spend some Quality Time with that writer. So obviously you should all vote for Neal, get some cash to Gleaners Community Food Bank, and get in the running to win “a lavish lunch for two with Neal Rubin at one of the area’s best restaurants, or lunch and a round of golf for two with Neal at Plum Hollow Country Club in Southfield.” If you play golf with him, you must dress up as Ben Franklin and keep trying to get him to bet on the game. DO IT! VOTE NOW! (Thanks to faithful reader jvwalt for the tip!)

Post Content

Dick Tracy, 7/21/10

Never let it be said that Dick Tracy phones it in. You could have been excused for thinking that Saturday’s strip was a the finale of the latest rambling, baffling plot that couldn’t be forced into some sort of coherent shape no matter how hard you tried; however, we’re clearly going to spend all of this week with the characters doing a half-assed attempt to explain it further, to no avail. Plus, that callous disregard for human life or dignity is the strip’s trademarked value-add. Yeah, Anja Nu, what a loser! Winners don’t get die in terror as they get cut in half by an airplane, am I right, people?

Dennis the Menace, 7/21/10

Well, if we can have Eli Roth-style torture porn in Crock, I suppose David Cronenberg-style biological anxiety in Dennis the Menace is fine. Watch in queasy fascination as Dennis crawls down an unwilling Mr. Wilson’s esophagus, discovering all manner of slimy, pulsating horrors within.

Gil Thorp, 7/21/10

Whoops, it turns out that Torrey Pines and Kemper Lakes are real-life golf courses, not made-up gated communities. It looks like my family was right and my aggressive refusal to learn anything about golf has come back to haunt me after all!

Meanwhile, this mustachioed golf impresario’s angry reaction to a “hronk” intrigues me. I’m not sure what a hronk is, but since to my knowledge “hr” sounds are generally restricted to Slavic languages, I think we’re all going to learn a valuable lesson about how wrong-headed it is to discriminate against Eastern Europeans. Will newspapers print racially charged but dramatically necessary dialog like “Get off of my golf course, you filthy bohunks”?

Beetle Bailey, 7/21/10

Ha ha, General Halftrack can’t smoke his cigars if he’s dead!