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Shoe, 12/3/10

I’m a little embarrassed by how much information about the world of Shoe I carry around in my head, but it took today’s strip to make me notice a gaping hole in its bird-person society. The denizens of Treetops, East Virginia (that is the name of the town where the bird-people live — one of the many things I am embarrassed to know) are, as we see today, represented by an elected bird-official; their society also features dying print media, a medical system and associated pharmaceutical industry, institutions for disposing of their dead honorably, and sexually deviant auto mechanics. But where do these birds go for spiritual comfort? I can’t think of any appearance of the sort of stereotypical priest-bird-man that one might expect from the strip; the resulting need for divine guidance explains the weird sway that Madame Zoo Doo has over her customers. Look at how desperate the Senator appears for news of his soul’s fate in panel one, and how relieved he is in panel two! Yet the Madame never offers any guidelines for living, never creates the foundation for a system of ethics that might transform her superstitious mummery into a great moral belief system; instead, she merely uses her mystical connection to the “other side” as a source of power and control here on earth (or whatever the hell the freaky bird-planet these creatures live on.)

Mark Trail, 12/3/10

Oh my goodness, the hilarious sitcom-style misunderstanding hijinks are already getting underway, and Mark’s not even out of the shower. Kelly playing idly with the phone cord in panel three is a delight — is in fact so delightful that it almost seems to indicate that the strip is becoming aware of its own ludicrousness, which would of course ruin everything. But Kelly’s weird innocence salvages things. She’s not trying to scheme here; her spoken motivations in panel two are completely honest (and why wouldn’t they be, as they’re spoken aloud to no one in particular?). She really does want to make sure Mark doesn’t miss an important call! She’s helping!

Marvin, 12/3/10

I’m not sure why Marvin and Marvin’s dad (Jeff, Marvin’s dad’s name is Jeff, another thing I’m embarrassed to know) have such looks of numb horror in panel three. Maybe Roy’s misjudged modern mores and “you bet your sweet bippy” is still an incredibly shocking and profane thing to say. “Who is this monster,” thinks Jeff, “and how can I keep my poor son away from him?”

Mary Worth, 12/3/10

Dr. Jeff is usually closely aligned with Mary on Team Destroy Anyone Acting Even Slightly At Variance With Acceptable Norms, so it’s rather touching that he’s showing a little softness towards Jill’s human frailty here. “It happens, Mary! I mean, in my day I occasionally got blotto and lunged at someone inappropriate; if I hadn’t, Adrian wouldn’t be here today! Whoops, I’ve said too much.”

Adrian is taking good care of her boozy friend; based on the look of Jill’s hair, I’m guessing that the bride-to-be dunked her bridesmaid’s hair in a bucket of ice water, to shock the drunk out of her. I’d say that Scott is being awful kind to allow Jill to take his seat at the sweetheart table, but I’ve seen no evidence so far that the future groom even bothered to show up for his own rehearsal dinner.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/3/10

Oh, right, Rex Morgan, remember that? As usual, a promisingly hilarious storyline has wrapped up dumbly, with everyone loving Mayor Dalton because they read about his prostate on Pacebook, and with the mayor convincing his rival to drop out of the election by agreeing to give the man’s wife a volunteer job at the museum. Still, I’m amused by today’s strip, in which Dalton decides that unsolicited cheer from a middle-aged mustachioed gentleman is a good opportunity to talk “street.” “Thanks, man! Wait up! That’s how the kids talk on the Pacebook, right?”

Hi and Lois, 12/3/10

Cyclists often set up white-painted ghost bikes as memorials on the spot where someone riding a bicycle was killed by a car, which makes Ditto’s spectral white bicycle extremely creepy to me. Perhaps Lois ran over Ditto months ago on that very spot; driven mad with grief, she can’t remember that her youngest son is dead, and every evening she comes home from work, expecting him to come out and move the bike-memorial out of the way. Dot can no longer bring herself to shatter her mother anew every day, and now just feeds her comforting lies. “Ditto’s, um, not here right now, but he wants a new bike, mom! I’m sure you’re going to give him one, real soon, and he’ll be so happy!”

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Hi and Lois, 10/18/10

The Flagstons may be the comics’ blandest suburban family, which is why they work so well as a vessel for commentaries on bland suburban life. That’s also why it’s so exciting to see the strip go knee-deep into madness, as a bug-eyed, crazy-grinning Lois stares rapturously at the silent television. The sheer size of this flat-screen monstrosity adds to the weirdness. Is Lois desperately attempting to reach out to a different form of spirituality, but still held back by her materialistic worldview? “I’d never be able to meditate so effectively if we hadn’t sprung for the 52-inch hi-def model, honey!”

Dick Tracy, 10/18/10

You probably thought that Dick Tracy could never top last week’s crazed hobo fight with money flying everywhere. But today’s strip, in which deceased radio personality Wolfman Jack informs a local beat cop that a Code 469, or “ruckus,” is in progress nearby, is pretty awesome too. The police officer is far enough away to not have heard the ruckus first-hand and there are still visible thousand dollar bills floating through the air, which really takes the concept of “making it rain” to a new level.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/18/10

Snuffy has always been depicted in the strip as a particularly diminutive feller, no doubt a result of the incredibly poor nutrition he received growing up dirt poor in Hootin’ Holler, so I’m not sure if his cellmate is supposed to be some freakish giant or merely of normal human proportions. Nevertheless, it’s good to see the two are getting on so jovially together and haven’t attempted to shiv one another with their time-hash-markin’ crayons.

Funky Winkerbean, 10/18/10

Oh, hey, did you think that nothing could make Funky Winkerbean’s inexplicable Les-centered love triangle any grosser? How about turning it into a love square? Damn it, we’re just going to keep adding women who want to comfort poor sad wounded emotionally stunted creepy creepster Les until you start believing it.

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Blondie, 9/23/10

Blondie launches an unprovoked, totally unjustified attack on the Comics Curmudgeon Fall 2010 Fundraiser! Boy, you’ve got some nerve, Blondie! Just wait ’til Josh gets back from vacation — just you wait!

Judge Parker, 9/23/10

Oooh, this is promising: L’il Judge Randy’s packin’ heat! OK listen up, Judge Parker — Chekov’s gun is now officially on the table, and we expect either a) incompetent mayhem by a public official with collateral damage to innocent victims, or b) sexy target practice with CIApril Bowers involving sexual innuendo, leg silhouettes, hair-shaking, and nuzzling. Nuzzling, dammit! Deal? OK, now deliver!

Hi and Lois, 9/23/10

Atop the Salmon Throne of Ranch House Doom in the deepest suburbs of Mordor Meadows, the Dark Lady summons her thrall: “Hi, honey! Oh, nothing much, just thinking of you! Ash nazg durbatulûk, sweetie, bye for now!”

Mark Trail, 9/23/10

Mark submits articles to Woods and Wildlife but is apparently not a subscriber. Time to call Woods and Wildlife Editor Bill Ellis: “Say, Bill, I have a question about those stories I keep sending you! Do you ever publish any of them?”

He’ll be heartbroken to learn that his “Nature Journalist” job is just a fiction his occupational therapist Cherry cooked up to get him outdoors and keep his mind off his massive head injury and memory impairment. No matter: he’ll call Bill again tomorrow, just like always.

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— Uncle Lumpy