Post Content

Archie, 1/5/07

More proof that Archie’s text is created by a joke-generating computer: In what context would any actual biological life form use the phrase “Why aren’t you out there hustling?” The only one I can imagine would be in some ’80s teen comedy in which, due to a hilarious series of misunderstandings, a snooty, stuck-up rich guy who’s never worked a day in his life has to coach a band of misfits to the state basketball championship. Oh, sure, at first they make fun of his patrician patois and attempts to talk “street” — “Fellows, why aren’t you out there hustling?”, “I say, that slam dunk was really quite smashing!” — but then they’d explain to him that in certain semantic contexts “bad” can mean “good” and soon enough they’d come together as a team, win the inevitable slobs vs. snobs title game (against the coach’s alma mater, natch), and learn the true meaning of friendship.

An alternative interpretation: The “coach” is actually Archie and gang’s pimp, and he wants to know why they aren’t out there “hustling” and making him some money. The less said about that scenario, the better, but it’s worth noting that such activity could indeed scuff up Svenson’s floor.

And speaking of the wacky Scandinavian janitor: usually overalls are not the garment of choice for those who want to showcase their trim physique, but Svenson’s are awful tight in the rear end. OK, I’ll stop.

Gil Thorp, 1/5/07

You know, despite all the internal dissension that’s clearly troubling this year’s Milford girls basketball team, I think it’s a safe bet that, like the great strife-torn Oakland A’s teams in the ’70s, the Lady Mudlarks are going to do just fine in the standings. Any team that has a player for whom an over-the-shoulder, no-look fling at a basket more than thirty feet away is an “easy two” should take care of the competition without too much fuss.

People criticize the Gil Thorp art, but I’m kind of in love with the strip’s crowd scenes. I like the expression on the faces of Bald Trench Coat And Black Turtleneck Guy and Person Of Indeterminate Gender Wearing A Fur-Trimmed Jacket And Hat Even Though He Or She Is Inside. “Hey, Overbearing Basketball Mom, we’re trying to enjoy the game here, so shut up! Also, if you’re trying to amplify and/or direct your voice, putting your thumbs behind your ears is probably not the best technique.”

Judge Parker, 1/5/07

Oh man, I refuse to believe that the Judge Parker gay-baiting election storyline, which only got started in late August, can possibly be over already. I mean, this is Judge Parker: five months of real time is equivalent to, what, twenty minutes? I’m assuming that by “best friend” Sam means Reggie’s doughy lawyer Roy, who, if there’s any justice in this world, we’ll get to see on the business end of a Celeste-wielded microphone when the beans are inevitably spilled.

Perhaps it’s Roy who’s been leaking Reggie’s campaign materials to faithful reader Wille Thompson. Here’s a flyer that sadly will now never be used:

Mary Worth, 1/5/07

Any Jungian will tell you that dreams are not meant to be taken literally: they instead offer guidance through metaphors. Thus, we should not interpret Mary’s vision to mean that Dr. Jeff is drowning in some malarial Southeast Asian swamp; instead, we should understand that the true barrier to deeper intimacy in their relationship is the good doctor’s terrible incontinence.

Post Content

Hi, everybody! I’m back at last. I see you’ve all been having fun in my absence (1270+ comments worth of fun!), but I’m rested and ready, if not tanned, and eager to get back in the blogging saddle.

So, how was your Christmas? Did it feel like it was brusquely shoehorned into someone else’s drama, as in Mary Worth?

Was everybody else busy and you had to get your holiday greetings from someone peripheral and random, à la Abbey the Wonderdog in Rex Morgan, M.D.?

Or were you fobbed off on some generic winter scene that had nothing to do with anyone you know or have even heard of, as in Judge Parker?

Or, perhaps worst of all, did you have to spend the week staring into the dead, soulless eyes of your hideous square-headed family, as in Gil Thorp?

OH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, MAKE THEM STOP STARING AT ME! AAAHHHHHH!

Ahem. Anyhoo, not a whole lot of great interest to report in the comics, as they mostly treaded water during a low-readership week. The most action took place among the foobs, most of which was easily predicted and won’t be rehashed here. There were a few bright spots, though. Mark Trail featured this happy, non-beaver-slaughtering scene:

I don’t know what’s creepier: the chipper “Thanks for not killing the beavers!”, or the way daddy’s fondling that chicken leg.

Speaking of beavers, Barreto needs to get back to Judge Parker ASAP before Sophie turns into one permanently.

In non-beaver news, Mary Worth can pretend that she’s dreaming about her not-boyfriend, but thought balloons don’t lie: her main interest, as always, is herself.

And in Milford, we learn that the aesthetic requirements for “favorite couple” are shockingly low.

And! You may have missed your chance to give the gift of Comics Curmudgeon gear for Christmas, but Valentine’s Day is coming up! What better way to say “I love you” than a shirt bearing the crazed rantings of a drunk? Faithful reader Genetic Mishap, who designed this logo, here re-enacts this classic scene:

She also illustrates that the shirt also works when you’re not imitating comics characters:

Operators are standing by, so buy yours today!

Finally, let’s get the new year off on a good foot with a tacky joke about cancer:

Funky Winkerbean, 1/1/07

See, they totally set up a great Yul Brynner joke here and then completely failed to follow through with it.

Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 12/20/06

And Beetle Bailey’s queasy, uncomfortable treatment of sexuality continues apace. (See here, here, and here for more of it, if you dare.) There’s an increasingly disturbing undercurrent of sexual mismatch in the strip, as various desperate plays for intimacy are parried by hostility, apathy, or restrictive military regulations against sexual harassment and/or gayness. Since they’re denied by their cruel overlords the Walkers either the right to get it on with one another or to experience the catharsis of combat, it’s no wonder the denizens of Camp Swampy are such emotional wrecks.

Apartment 3-G, 12/20/06

Worry not, friends: we are only privy to these uncharacteristically humble meanderings through the cartoon magic of thought balloons; no other A3G character will ever learn of them, since Margo shuns human intimacy and all other forms of weakness. I’m just charmed to find out that she refers to herself by her last name in her negative self-talk.

Gil Thorp, 12/20/06

With Stormy Hicks and Stumpy Ritter bundled safely off to the Naval Academy Prep School and the Paralympics, respectively, it’s time for a new storyline in Gil Thorp. This of course inevitably involves confusion and chaos, since it can take days or weeks before anyone can tell what the hell is going on. At first I thought that our Syracuse-branded sweatshirt fan was ex-hobo Ted Pearse, but it’s actually the noted “Lisa Wyche.” Perhaps we’ll get an intriguing plot involving same-sex loving on the girl’s basketball team, or at least parental disapproval of tomboyishness. No matter what, though, I need to see as much of Lisa’s terrifying space alien mother as humanly possible.

Luann, 12/20/06

Allow me to translate, Puddles: you aren’t getting jack for Christmas. It’s a good thing you have some biped friends, or else you’d be in a burlap sack at the bottom of a river. Capisce? Now leave Santa the hell alone.