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Gil Thorp, 7/10/13

Man, I can not take my eyes off Gil’s jorts in panel one! And I don’t mean that in a good way. Gil, you’re trying to sweet-talk a possibly senile, definitely violent old pro wrestler out of jail, maybe you should dress with a little bit of dignity.

Hi and Lois, 7/10/13

Man, who says print journalism is in trouble? The Generic Suburb Intelligencer-Tribune probably has about half the pages, a third of the staffers, and a quarter of the ad revenue it had when I started this blog in 2004, but that doesn’t mean it can’t find room to wedge in some wire service copy offering “news” about a scientific model of stellar evolution that’s been accepted for pretty much decades.

Spider-Man, 7/10/13

A little poking around on travel sites has flights from San Francisco to Central America lasting anywhere from 9 to 13 hours, and if Spider-Man were to be actively humiliated by a small child for the entire duration of this trip, I for one would not complain at all.

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Hi and Lois, 7/3/13

Oh my goodness, look at Trixie’s facial expressions in this strip. Congrats, Hi and Lois, for not backing away from the full psychological horror of her sudden and entirely incorrect epiphany! “Oh God, those things … at the end of my feet … they’re alive. They’re alive. And they hunger. I’ve got to feed them! Eat, piggies!” She shoves her feet deeper into the moist, yielding paste in Dawg’s dinner bowl. “Eat!” She’s desperate that they find something to eat. Because she knows that if they don’t, they’ll start eating their way up her foot, and won’t stop until she is entirely consumed.

Heathcliff, 7/3/13

You ever see a cat playing with a toy — batting it around with her paws, swatting it up into the air, maybe holding onto it with her mouth while kicking at it with her feet — and suddenly realize that you’re watching what it looks like when a predator methodically batters its prey to death? Heathcliff and his dad are tossing a dead squirrel around, is what I’m saying.

Six Chix, 7/3/11

There is of course a long comedic history of slapstick violence being meted out to characters, and of anthropomorphic animals mixing the experiences of sentient beings and their real-world counterparts. How can you tell that you’ve pushed these tropes too far to be really successful? When you end up drawing a mangled corpse lying in a pool of human-looking blood and viscera, I would argue.

Dick Tracy, 7/3/11

Welp, I officially don’t understand what’s going on in this Dick Tracy storyline, but at least it’s still dishing out the quotables. “Dr. Sail made me an accessory to fraud! I’ll never get back to the moon!” Ha ha, that’s a tough spot that we can all relate to, amiright?

Speaking of things that are awful: Are you guys aware of FunkyWatch, from the indefatigable Chris Sims? Each month he selects and recaps the most depressing Crankshaft and Funky Winkerbean strips from the past 30 days. It’s always worth your time if you’re a Funkyverse obsessee, but this month was particularly grim, and FunkyWatch correspondingly hilarious. Go forth and read it!

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Before the comics begin, a note on last week’s fundraiser! Please read if you contributed! First of all, another huge thanks to all of you! I’ve already written to everyone thanking you, and asking which reward you’re interested in and double-checking to make sure your mailing address is correct. Unfortunately, about 20% of you never got back to me! So, if you haven’t heard from me, because your Paypal account is connected to an old email address or my message went into a spam folder or something, please email me at bio@jfruh.com. If I don’t hear from you by the end of the week, you’ll get a magnet mailed to whatever mailing address is attached to your Paypal account (unless I don’t have a mailing address for you either, in which case you won’t get anything). So please, get in touch!

Funky Winkerbean, 5/29/13

You know, after close to nine years of making fun of newspaper comic strips, I still sometimes discover that I have optimism that can be dashed. For instance, I figured Funky Winkerbean would be able to squeeze a week out of Darrin and Jessica indignantly refusing to participate in Darrin’s bio-dad’s terrible reality show, tops. And yet here we are on the next Wednesday and it’s still happening. Most FW “punchlines” contain at least some token bit of wordplay, no matter how grim, but I have to say that “reality” -> “really stinks” doesn’t quite do it for me. Here, here’s a better version: “The only reality about reality TV is that it stinks almost as badly as the fetid, choking air in the terrible, cruel reality that we are forever trapped in, like flies in a spider’s web.” Too … too long maybe? Not enough room in the word balloon?

Archie, 5/29/13

Man, forget the multiple half-assed jokes in this strip; the dramatic arc I’m interested in is the dog’s. He pushes his head around the corner, spots Archie and Jughead, then takes a deep whiff of Jughead’s pants and instantly falls in love despite the fact that his presence has not been acknowledged at all. Is this li’l lost pup so starved for affection that he’s latched onto the first person who doesn’t threaten or flee from him? Or, more likely, does every single item of clothing owned by notorious glutton Jughead Jones smell strongly of ham and/or barbecue sauce?

Momma, 5/29/13

I know it can be hard to tell sometimes, but Momma is still being produced afresh daily in the current Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Thirteen, as today’s strip makes very explicit. I like the way Momma and Marylou look directly at the reader as they announce this fact. “We can’t believe we’re around in this far-off future era either. Death is coming for us all!”

Hi and Lois, 5/29/13

Little known but important motivation for attaining verbal skills: they’re needed to demand constant reassurance that we aren’t completely unlovable.