Archive: Gil Thorp

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For Better Or For Worse, 7/11/08

You know what it’s been way, way too long since we last did? A little bit of What They Say And What They Mean!

What he says What he means
“Hi Dr. P! How’s it going?” I have a penis!
“Fine, Anthonty!” I have a penis too!
“Is Liz around?” Did I mention that I have a penis?
“She’s in the house. They’re going full-tilt on the wedding plans, so I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” I have a penis. That’s why I’m outside!
“Is there a problem”? Is there a problem that can be solved specifically by my penis?
“It’s a wedding! There’s always a problem! Something’s not right here, a dress doesn’t fit there, people haven’t responded, the caterer’s out of town…” Ha ha, because we have penises, all these words I’m saying to you are just meaningless babble to us! We’re obviously incapable of making phone calls, maintaining a spreadsheet, contacting vendors, writing notes, or doing any number of totally non-penis-related tasks! All the things they’re doing in there — those are things only someone with a vagina is physically capable of doing!
“Maybe we should just elope.” I have a penis!
“What? And spoil all the fun?!!” I have a penis too!

Apartment 3-G, 7/11/08

Jack may sound concerned about the possibility that riff-raff might be pillaging the Mills Gallery, but his facial expression in panel three conveys to me a certain growing sadistic glee. I predict that a certain trio of crackheads are about to be on the receiving end of a savage and righteous keying. Perhaps Jack’s inner vigilante has been frustrated for years by modern New York’s low crime rates, or, more likely, he may realize that an act of shocking violence is the quickest way into Margo’s affections.

Mark Trail, 7/11/08

One look at that second panel will show you why Kelly Welly is considered the sex symbol in this strip. Oh yeah, baby, roll that right eye a little further towards the side of your head while staring straight ahead with the left. Mmm-hmm, that’s the stuff.

Pearls Before Swine, 7/11/08

Oh, Mr. Pastis, I ignored you when you taunted Lynn Johnston. I ignored you when you tried to kill Jeffy. But Masky McDeath? Oh, well played, sir.

Gil Thorp, 7/11/08

More proof that illegal immigrants do the sort of dirty cleanup work that Americans won’t! Steve Rosen probably refused to drive in the winning run unless he got dental insurance and overtime pay. You wouldn’t have gotten that kind of lip from Elmer.

Ziggy, 7/11/08

Ha ha, Ziggy’s killed his only friend with off-brand dog food!

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OK, we’ll get to the COTW and runners-up momentarily, but first, several items of interest.

First! You may remember some days back that Uncle Lumpy posted a link to an honest-to-god real recording of “Tarzana Nights” by Kalamazoo-based songsters/madmen the New Real People. But today I am authorized to actually show you a picture of the recording session in progress (taken by faithful reader Jules), which I guarantee will blow your minds:

I would have loved to have seen the look on the face of the hapless Kinko’s employee who was handed the infamous “Ease up, friend” strip and told to blow it up to such gargantuan proportions. Remember, you can relive the magic on the New Real People’s Web site.

Speaking of Gil Thorp insanity, did you know that there’s now an official, authorized-by-the-syndicate Gil Thorp Facebook group? You young people who use the Facebook should totally join. I got the tip from the brilliant This Week In Milford blog, your source for all things Thorpian, which, naturally, also has a Facebook group. (As do I! Goodness gracious, with the technology!)

Also! I have received another adorable picture of a child wearing Comics Curmudgeon gear, in this case a Fist o’ Justice shirt. That’s little Lee, son of faithful reader Robert:

“He so does like to punch stuff!” says Robert of his four-week-old son.

Also! Faithful reader ChattyGenes posted an Aldomania ditty that you might enjoy.

And finally, at long last, brace yourself for the COMMENT OF THE WEEK!

“Mary Worth wears Depends with Snoopy’s picture on them, and the slogan ‘Happiness is a Warm Poopy.'” –The Spectacular Spider-Brick

(That’s a reference to this horror, if you’re confused.)

It was a hard choice this week, as the runners-up are also hilarious:

“I hate Curtis. I hate Curtis’ hat. Dear lord, how I hate that hat.” –Sully

“What Mr. Abner needs is a puppy!” –blueberrygrrrl

“Gosh, I remember when I was in marching band in the suburbs of Cleveland and cut out every single comic making fun of Wally playing the trombone, because gosh-dang it, I played the trombone, and it made me so happy to know that the comics pages reflected me — a Northeastern Ohio high schooler playing trombone on a muddy football field for a losing football team in the snow. Somewhere in Northeastern Ohio, an angry, cantankerous, cancerous former pizza store owner is cutting out today’s strip and proudly taping it on his refrigerator.” –Sunny Paris

“Let’s see … Dolly badly botching the lyrics to a song that only elderly people are likely to know, ending up in a malapropism. That’s it! Dolly is starting her Crankshaft training.” –Mibbitmaker

“Jack, meanwhile, clearly doesn’t know Margo very well at all. ‘Help you? Yeah, look, unless her sweater’s green because it’s actually made of money, I’m going to deal with the paintings here, thanks. Don’t let our flirtation make you think I have any interest in real human compassion — you want that crap, see if Alan will rent you Lu Ann for the hour.'” –Windier E. Megatons

“Before we enquire into Dolly’s rationale for singing boardwalk songs on Independence Day, perhaps we should determine the alcoholic content of whatever she has in that bucket.” –odinthor

“If Gabriella faints at ‘the presence of evil’ anyplace where low-level drug dealing and bad art occurs, how can she even enter lower Manhattan without immediately slipping into a coma?” –Hank

“I can’t wait for the bridezilla’ing to start. And the single malt. We’re gonna need it.” –Islamorada Girl

“Liz looks like the doll off the top of the music box, only about 10000 times more smug and entitled. ‘I did it! I finally did it! I fulfilled everyone’s expectations! Now I never have to think about anything ever again! Go me!'” –Shoebox

“Please let that be the plastic bag from the dry cleaners that Grandma Marion is preparing to clamp over Liz’s smug head. ‘Wear MY dress to marry a divorced man?! I’ll smother you first!'” –Stroker Ace

“Deanna has a pretty dreamy look as she cops a feel on Lizardbreath. Almost as if she finally has found a way to have sex with a Patterson.” –Lockestep

“What [Margo’in] reason would the Santa Royale city council have for calling two emergency meetings, two evenings in a row? More complaints about the old people smell? They’re never going to get rid of that.” –PeteMoss

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Gil Thorp, 7/2/08

Don’t get me wrong, a two-week Sicilian vacation is pretty awesome. There’s nothing like opening up the window in the morning and looking down the hillside to the Mediterranean below, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll be splashing in its delightful blue waters. But then, there’s also nothing like getting up in the morning and seeing the total insanity that is Gil Thorp, so I can’t stay on vacation forever. I suppose that’s supposed to be Bugs McCoy standing on the dock there, but it looks more like some escapee from a nightmarish genetic research lab, its unformed potato-like head glistening facelessly in the morning sun. Then there’s panel two, in which Elmer proves that “average high school arm” is some sort of code for “disproportionally and hideously plump sausage-thing.” Upon deportation Elmer will be trapped in legal limbo at the border, since Mexico will refuse entry to this obviously dangerous mutant.

Marmaduke, 7/2/08

Given that Marmaduke can wear clothes, write English words, order bones over the Internet or possibly by phone, and, um, smoke cigars, I’m not actually convinced that we can rule out smoking in bed. I do admit that it seems more likely that some terrified citizen, tired of Marmaduke’s rule of slobbering canine terror over this hapless suburban community, has attempted to burn him to death while he slept.

Hagar the Horrible, 7/2/08

That’s pretty big talk coming from someone who appears to be wearing a hand-torn burlap sack. To say nothing of those damn potato-feet.

Luann, 7/2/08

dun da dun da DUNNN dun da dun da dun dunn