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Blondie, 12/23/09

As is sadly typical, the actual punchline in today’s Blondie is so gentle as to be essentially undetectable, but I confess that I like the visual gag. Generally, when the Bumsteads’ shop, they end up with packages ludicrously stacked in their arms in structurally improbable configurations. Today’s strip takes this to its logical conclusion, with a series of boxes just sort of floating in a cloud around Blondie, without any visible means of support.

Mark Trail, 12/23/09

OH YEAH MARK TRAIL JUST PUNCHED A COP RIGHT IN THE FUCKIN’ FACE! This is the greatest Christmas gift you or I or anyone else will receive this year. Note that the mighty blow has miraculously dislodged the car keys that Mark and the lawmen were discussing in the previous panel; Mark’s fists are unerring plot-device-seeking projectiles.

Hi and Lois, 12/23/09

Add another entry to the “call social services on the Flagstons” file: the apparently unsupervised Trixie is just eating garbage she finds under the furniture now.

Herb and Jamaal, 12/23/09

I’ve been reading this strip for going on five years now, and more or less against my will I’ve actually accumulated some knowledge about the title characters. For instance, here’s what I know about Jamaal: He’s a firefighter, he’s in love with his fellow firefighter Yolanda, his name is “Jamaal J. Jamaal,” and — a relevant detail about today’s installment — he’s a former professional basketball player. Since today he’s challenging his gnomish best friend to a game of one on one, I’m guessing I’m going to have to add “he’s a cruel bastard who needs to boost his fragile ego by demolishing poor Herb on the court” to that list.

Apartment 3-G, 12/23/09

“To be more specific: I hope you like them enough that you’ll let me trade these poinsettias I stole from the Macy’s window display for more sleeping pills!”

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/8/09

Uh-oh, it looks like the Morgan household has got a case of the squatters! And they’re slobs, too, and one of them is a busty blonde who looks capable of at least briefly experiencing joy — exactly the sort of person that June is most likely to skewer with one of her patented soul-freezing glares.

You know, sometimes when I return to my house, I have the strange, unbidden thought that perhaps I’ve passed into a parallel universe where I don’t exist, and someone else will be living there. I wonder if something like this has happened to the Morgans — if their cruise ship accidentally passed through the Bermuda Triangle or something, and now they’ve returned to a town exactly like the one they left, except nobody’s ever heard of them. This would guarantee hilariousness, as virtually everything this power couple does is based on an overwhelming sense of their own entitlement. The anger and befuddlement that will ensue when their increasingly plaintive cries of “But don’t you know who we are?” are met with honest “No”s will be delicious.

Archie, 12/8/09

A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, especially for an emergent cybernetic consciousness. It’s been long established that the Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000, the massive computer that creates the Archie newspaper comic, is connected to the Internet and aware of this blog; but now it appears to have decided that I am its primary audience, and is specifically filling its strip with things that unsettle and amuse me, including people gazing lovingly at their own image on computer monitors and creepy furries whose deranged eyes glow out from the otherwise inky black maw of their fursuits.

Still, the AJGLU 3000 deserves credit for adding some character development to this strip. In most iterations of the Archie mythos, Reggie exists solely as an arrogant, egotistical foil and occasional romantic rival to Archie. However, as depicted by the AJGLU 3000, when he’s behind his (Reggie-themed-photo festooned) editorial desk, he does seem determined to do a halfway credible job of running the school newspaper, an attitude worthy of praise. Of course, this being Reggie, he’s probably only doing it because he believes that a career in print journalism is his ticket to power and influence; this is misguided, but not as misguided as Archie’s apparent belief that a career in print journalism is his ticket to sex with cheerleaders.

Hi and Lois, 12/8/09

Ever since the real-estate market imploded, Lois has had little to do with her time other than hang out at the mall with her fellow realtors and talk about which mood-altering pills are the most fun and which crooked doctors will prescribe them.

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Mary Worth, 12/7/09

Believe you me, I plan to follow the Exciting Tale Of Wilbur’s Bastard Son very closely, at least right up until the point when against all odds it manages to become boring (which, this being Mary Worth, could happen at literally any moment). Today’s hilarity comes thanks to Wilbur’s complete and utter lack of filter. I think that most single fathers, if confronted with the possibility that their youthful man-sluttery had living, breathing, school-tuition-requiring consequences, might attempt to compose themselves a bit and have a coherent narrative ready before breaking the news to their college age daughter. They might even try to figure out if the story is true first! But not Wilbur. “Aw, jeez, I think I knocked some broad up, back in the ’80s!” he yelps, no doubt to Dawn’s horror and disgust, as he compulsively rubs his clammy head-skin for comfort.

Mark Trail, 12/7/09

What an awesome time it is for soap opera strips, when poor Rusty pinned under Mark’s four thousand pound station wagon only merits second place in our thoughts! With man’s toolmaking skills down for the count, Mark will be forced to use the lessons he’s learned from nature. “Rusty, you’ll need to make like a trapped fox and chew off your own foot! Quickly, before the pelicans mistake you for a dying fish and attack!”

Gil Thorp, 12/7/09

Meanwhile, Coach Thorp is on the horns of a dilemma! It seems that he’s under pressure to kick notorious public drunkard Duncan Daley off of his team. But Duncan needs the structure and routine of playing football! It’s all that’s holding him together! *cough* Also he’s Milford’s best player *cough* I particularly enjoy today’s panel two, which appears to be footage from the hidden ceiling-mounted camera Gil used to capture Coach Fazio’s moment of humiliation for repeat viewing later.

How can Coach Thorp avoid such a fate? Well, we might start by not calling Prisoner Daley a hypocrite. I mean, are we terribly shocked that the sort of guy who would commit a jail-worthy offense might also be the sort of guy who would instigate a prison fight? I think Gil needs to take the “fighting a bad influence” approach. “Duncan’s brother told Duncan to stay out of trouble. Duncan’s brother is a convicted felon! Do you expect him to take the advice of a jailbird? He had to drink that beer!”

Hi and Lois, 12/7/09

Speaking of drunken teenagers, Chip appears to be in some kind of substance-induced coma! Obviously Lois’s main concern is to get him somewhere out of sight.

Luann, 12/7/09

Each of Luann’s suitors has to have some unspeakably perverted fetish, and now we know Quill’s: elf porn!