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Apartment 3-G, 4/20/10

Oh, goody, Apartment 3-G is revisiting an important plot point from Sunday that I neglected to mention, namely the “private psychiatric facility upstate” into which the so-called “sane” characters in this strip are bamboozling our poor Bobbie. The Professor, of course, was the one who was prescribing pills to Bobbie and screwing her, possibly not in that order, so he’s the most suitable candidate for disposing of her in a way that’s convenient for everyone, without the pesky police getting involved. One wonders who’s paying for this fancy private facility! Martin, with his alimony checks? The Professor, out of guilt? Actually, if my suspicions are correct, it may be the sort of institution where she can earn her keep just like Margo did.

Crock, 4/20/10

Oh, look, Crock is trying to capture that awful yet moving vibe of yesterday’s Hagar the Horrible. Unfortunately, the sort of little grace notes that made that other strip work in spite of itself are wholly missing from this one, and the details that are present are just jarring and wrong (vultures do not have teeth, for instance). But mostly a steaming, bloated corpse being picked apart by a grotesque scavenger bird just doesn’t have the same grim majesty as a good burning at the stake, I’m afraid.

Gil Thorp, 4/20/10

Against all odds and logic, teen alt-country sensation “Slim” Chance has decided to spend his spring afternoons with the losers and yahoos on the Mudlark baseball team, possibly because he hopes to use their pathetic dreams and broken lives as material for his songwriting. He’s already blowing the kids’ minds with his crazy musical stylings; I’m assuming one of the major spring plots will involve his teammates, who have grown up on a diet of the terrible rap-metal, learning about good, wholesome music, like this country standard about adultery and murder.

Marmaduke, 4/20/10

Marmaduke is the last creature one would expect to see engaging in the sort of nonviolent passive resistance that Gandhi and Martin Luther King used to effect social and political change. It’s more likely that he’s hoping to lure unwary passersby close enough for him to kill and eat.

Mary Worth, 4/20/10

Tobey is overjoyed that Mary has at last made another friend, which takes the pressure off her, and is thus trying to minimize any potential flaws Mary might see in her. “Oh, she’s a big shopper? Is that all? That’s no reason why you two shouldn’t be thick as thieves and spend all your free time together. Whoa, is it 1:30 already? Gotta go! Later Mary! Say hi to Bonnie for me!” In panel two her hand is shaking in anticipation of freedom, sweet freedom.

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Ziggy, 4/8/10

Man, I can’t even pretend that I know what the hell Ziggy is talking about here (the way I pretended with yesterday’s Family Circus — it was about Easter eggs, apparently? Ha ha, people eat Easter eggs! Who knew!). As I usually do when I’m confronted with a slang term that I don’t understand and I want a repulsive definition for it that was fabricated by 14-year-olds, I consulted Urban Dictionary. The first definition given there — “the word used to replace ‘share’ in a request to do so with someone” — can’t be right, as Ziggy is a loser with nothing to share with anybody; he even seems to have once again misplaced his recently rediscovered pants! Thus, we’re left with definitions two (“Defecation. Derived from the term number two.”) and three (“Spar’s strong white cider, sold in bottles of 2 litres, originally for 2 pounds, hence the nickname twosies, often abbreviated in writing to ‘zz.'”). These are both strong possibilities, actually; Ziggy’s facial expression, with undereye bags and a crooked half-smile, could be taken as indicating that he’s shat himself, or that he’s drunk in public in the middle of the day on some British cider drink, or that he’s shat himself in public in the middle of the day after getting drunk on some British cider drink.

Gil Thorp, 4/8/10

You know what would actually be pretty great? If, just as Derek “Slim” Chance has discovered that being a teenage alt-country singer in a Central City bar is about a bazillion times cooler than being a pitcher for the Milford Mudlarks, the Gil Thorp comic strip would realize that, just for a few months, following the adventures of non-athletes might be a bazillion times more interesting than watching yet another team of dim jocks try and fail to make the playdowns. Since it’s been widely acknowledged that the last spectacularly awesome Gil Thorp storyline came three summers ago when Kaz punched his way into Gail Martin’s entourage, the reconnection of our be-mulleted hunk with the world of music can’t in any way be a bad thing.

Boding particularly well is Slim’s rhinestone-encrusted, dice-festooned outfit. I know that’s supposed to be cowboy-style fringe hanging off his sleeve in panel one, bit it looks like his arm is just leaving a trail of pure light behind it as it moves, indicating that Slim is truly a magical, transcendent figure, or that Kaz’s acid is finally kicking in.

Apartment 3-G, 4/8/10

I just want to pause briefly in the midst of all this awesomeness (Ha ha, “She won’t dare shoot me!” And look at Margo’s face in the second panel! “Hey, lady, only I get to insult and belittle my father!”) to contemplate the word “stepmother” for a moment. Is this really the right term for the relationship between Margo and Bobbie? I mean, yes, technically Bobbie is a woman who is not Margo’s mother but is married to her father, at least until state of New York or that illegally purchased firearm dissolves that union. But generally the word is reserved for a woman your father marries sometime after you were born and his relationship with your mother dissolves, and not, say, the woman your father was married to when he knocked up the maid, and who raised you as her own, hating you and him and herself all the while. I have no idea what the correct term would be, though, and I’m open to suggestions.

Baldo, 4/8/10

Ooh, Tia Carmen and her supermarket romancer, who normally only interact in soap opera strip art form, are going on a real date! We’ve been shown that he’s apparently gone nuts and bought a wedding ring already, but he may be reconsidering that decision now that she’s shown up for dinner dressed as Cruella de Vil.

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B.C., 4/5/10

You might think that the familiarity that comes with reading and criticizing the comics section every day for years would breed a certain amount of contempt for the medium and its perpetrators. But I’ve actually gained respect, or at least sympathy, for cartoonists in the process of writing this blog. For one thing, I’ve learned how hard it can be to come up with something funny to say every day, and realized that sometimes you have to write something only semi-coherent, tell yourself that they can’t all be winners, and then move on. And, once you’ve assembled a body of work over several years and know that you have a long-term audience, you’re faced with the dilemma of writing something that stands on its own or going back to that in-joke well.

Take today’s B.C., for instance. That’s Wiley in the hat, manager of the strip’s ever-hapless baseball team. And there are his players, visible only from the neck up; at some point in the mists of the strip’s history, there was a gag in which the baseball diamond’s dugout was depicted as a literal hole literally dug out of the ground, which has now stuck.

So, if you’re a long-term reader of the strip, all these visual cues would make some sort of sense (but not really all that much). But let’s assume, for a moment, that there are people who, right now, are picking up the newspaper or loading their Web browser, and reading B.C. for the very first time. Would there be a single thing in this cartoon that they could grasp, at all? Would you look at Wiley and understand his outfit as a baseball manager’s and not, say, a train engineer’s? Would you look at the hatless, baseball-equipment-less players standing in an open trench and think, “Oh, yes, these are baseball players, in a dugout, ha ha?” Wouldn’t it all just be madness to you, a sea of symbols without an organizational system?

The answer to that last one seems to me to be an obvious yes! But, on the other hand, the “Wiley is a baseball manager and his team’s dugout is a hole in the ground” tropes long predate my first reading of the strip, and yet here I am patiently explaining them to you, so somehow I’ve managed to pick up on them. And I’ve never even particularly liked B.C.! The determination of the human mind — or at least my mind — to make sense of larger narratives is impressive, I suppose. But I do wonder, now that people are more likely to find their comics on the atomized Web rather than on collected on a newspaper page, if people will have the same patience with strips they don’t get right away.

And with that said, here are a couple of comics and commentaries thereupon that probably won’t make any sense if you aren’t a regular reader of this blog!

Gil Thorp, 4/5/10

So, our basketball-season stories have wrapped up with surprising grimness: the girls’ team is defeated in the playdowns, Cassie ditches her erstwhile fiance and is ditched by her friends in turn, and Steve Luhm gets punched in the face and is still a janitor. I imagine that we haven’t seen the last of at least some of these clowns, but now we’re launching into our exciting baseball-season stories, which will involve baseball in the sense that the sport is mentioned in the first panel before we move on to whatever sort of sleazy underground S&M den Kelly is trying to forcibly drag Coach Kaz into. “The Pit” doesn’t sound that hot to me, honestly, but since most of their romantic encounters take place at Kaz’s sex dojo, her standards are probably pretty low.

Apartment 3-G, 4/5/10

We’re pretty much all in awe of Margo’s quotin’ and naked ringless fingers, but I’m not sure if they’re really the match for an actual loaded pistol that she seems to believe they are. Still, I wouldn’t mess with her, armed or no!