Archive: Judge Parker

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Beetle Bailey, 2/21/09

I know attempting to piece together what’s going in any particular Beetle Bailey is a fool’s errand, but what I’m getting — and please do correct me if I’m wrong — is that the General has gotten into some kind of fender-bender (with who? with what?), which has ruffled or shaken up his wife somehow (but not him?), and all he cares about his is car, and his wife is devastated by his indifference. Am I right? Because that’s … that’s pretty depressing. I hope I’m not right.

Marvin, 2/21/09

Marvin alone among comic strips dares to grapple with the profound social effects of today’s economic turmoil, as the evaporation of his grandparents’ stock portfolio has forced them to move in with Marvin and his parents. This has opened up rich new opportunities for hard-hitting original storylines. For instance, while usually two photocopies of the same drawing of Marvin would be open-mouthedly thought-ballooning a terrible unoriginal joke to his dog Bitsy, today two photocopies of the same drawing of Marvin are open-mouthedly thought-ballooning a terrible unoriginal joke to his grandparents’ dog Junior.

Judge Parker, 2/21/09

“Well hello, your honor! My breasts and I were just in the neighborhood … and we’ve arrived just in time for the couch-orgy, I see!”

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Judge Parker, 2/20/09

So! Indulge me for a moment in a little Judge Parker memory-lane-travel/detective work. Longtime Judge Parker readers will recognize the name April Bower; she was a paralegal or assistant or something in Sam and Randy’s law firm, and was briefly Randy’s love interest — here they are flirting shamelessly, right before Randy teaches her how to use chopsticks in a t-shirt worthy phrase. Anyway, soon after that touching little scene, April ran off to join the CIA, because obviously the dangerous, shadowy life of a spy was preferable to being romantically involved with Randy Parker.

Anyone who dares call himself a Judge Parker commentator ought to have had all of that information at his fingertips the moment Ms. Bower dramatically reinjected herself back into this plot. And yet I spent several moments staring at panel three in puzzlement and confusion, which, I eventually realized, was because April looks an awful lot like the mean mom of Sophie’s cheerleader tormentress!

She’s even wearing a trenchcoat — just like stereotypical spies wear, HMMM? Only Abby calls this lady “Mary” and says she’s an old friend. It’s also important to note that, as those old strips I linked to illustrate, this is the first time April has appeared since Eduardo Barreto has taken over art duties for the strip. So here are the possibilities as I see them:

  • Mary, knowing that nobody has seen April as drawn by the new artist, figures that she can bluff her way into the party under a false identity. Once inside, she plans to implement her revenge against the snooty Spencers by gluing Abbey to a chair and ruining her dress.
  • April Bowers has been doing a deep cover operation for the CIA as “Mary,” a typical suburban mom, for years now. Her mission is to monitor one Sophie Spencer, whose known hyperintelligence and radical leftist leanings have marked her as a threat to national security.
  • Barreto has a thing for Nicolette Sheridan.

In other news, the elder Judge Parker’s wife is Randy’s step-mom, and while she has expressed her motherly feelings for him before, I find it creepy that someone else would identify her as his “mom” at first sight, considering that she would have had to have given birth to him at the age of, oh, let’s say -4.

Blondie, 2/20/09

You know, considering the fact that Dagwood is Dithers’s most useless and hated employee, the two of them certainly socialize together a lot. Are there no other irascible, elderly plutocrats with Mrs. Dumont-esque wives in town with whom Dithers can get together and swap tales of robber baronage? The experience doesn’t seem to be going well for Mrs. Dithers; take a good look and you’ll notice that her usually zaftig figure seems to have wasted away. Presumably being confronted with the impossibly hourglass-shaped Blondie on a regular basis has prompted a nasty case of anorexia.

Mark Trail, 2/20/09

There’s a line in the first X-Files movie where Mulder is rambling on in typical fashion about shadowy forces within the federal bureaucracy, and posits that someday a major nationwide disaster would strike and that’s when power would be seized by “FEMA, the secret government.” This got the biggest laugh of the movie in the theater where I saw it, and that was years before we learned all too well how bad FEMA was at its actual job, to say nothing of its hidden ruling-the-nation-with-an-iron-fist duties. But today’s Mark Trail proves that maybe Mulder just had his obscure federal agencies wrong; apparently, it’s the sinister representatives of the Forest Service who are keeping tabs on each and every one of us, silently compiling dossiers, just waiting for the moment when that information will become useful. Want to know the dirty little secrets of any citizen, anywhere? Ask your local forest ranger!

Zits, 2/20/09

This may not be true in all regional dialects, but in my experience most Jewish people would say “at temple” rather than “at the temple” (just as most Christians would say “at church” rather than “at the church”). Maybe Sara is supposed to be Mormon, except that for all I know Mormons would say “at temple” too, plus I’m pretty sure Mormon temples are used exclusively for religious ceremonies and not as community centers for presentations like this. What I’m trying to say is, the “temple” to which she refers to is probably a ramshackle collection of trailers on the outskirts of town, the “Success Through Abstinence” lecture is all about how she needs to be saving herself for her future divine marriage to the Grand Exalted One, who was taken bodily up to the Heavenly Comet after the IRS tried to serve those papers to his compound seven years ago and who will collect his followers during the Great Return Event in 2017, and Jeremy will return home tonight with a shaved head and glassy-eyed stare.

Dick Tracy, 2/20/09

Obviously law enforcement officers have to improvise when potentially dangerous criminals arrive on the scene on short notice; but if your idea of “improvisation” involves hurling noxious chemicals directly into the perp’s eyes, then chuckling smugly as they stumble out blindly to their car, which they’ll inevitably drive into some kind of fiery wreck — well, that says a little something about you, is all I’m saying.

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My Cage, 2/16/09

So, here’s the thing: I got laid off from my last office job nearly nine years ago, started doing freelance editorial work to earn money until I got a new job, realized I could make a living doing freelance editorial work, and have worked at home ever since. This has dovetailed nicely with two key aspects of my personality, namely that I am (a) kind of a misanthropic shut-in and (b) kind of a slob. Why on earth would I want to earn money by shaving and showering and leaving the house, when I’d just have to interact with other humans when I got there? My wife pointed out a newspaper article to me recently about these nice people in Baltimore, who look like they have a great, fun community for freelancers that encourages collaboration and innovation and you would have force me at gunpoint to start going there to work.

But one thing I do have is some nice ties, and some fun shirts that I like and that would totally work as business casual when the weather’s nice. And yet I never get to wear the ties, except at weddings (and virtually all of our friends are married off now) and I don’t wear the shirts often enough, because, you know, if I’m just going to sit in my home office, wouldn’t it more appropriate to wear pajama pants and a ratty t-shirt I got from a trade show ten years ago?

This is just a roundabout way of saying that I kind of relate to Bridget and Norm here. If, by some catastrophe, I had to start leaving the house to earn my keep, the one thing that would stave off utter despair would be the idea of getting to wear some nice clothes once in a while. And even that would only last for a year, tops.

Mary Worth, 2/16/09

We’ve been denied the joys of a Chaterstone Pool Party the last several times Mary Worth plots have shifted gears, but at least we’ll get to spend the next who knows how long enjoying that terrific MW mainstay: The Incredibly Awkward Dinner! Nation’s Geography Magazine sounds like it’s an attempt to almost but not quite earn an angry lawsuit from the National Geographic Society, but I prefer to believe that it’s a more edgy publication that presents the sort of stories that the fuddy-duddies over at National Geographic would be too scared to run. “That’s right, Mary — I’ve seen some things you wouldn’t believe! I spent nine months with the Shining Path in the Peruvian jungle, where we lived in the ruins of Incan cities and tortured class enemies for their crimes against the proletariat. As for the year I spent in Bucharest with those child prostitutes — well, let’s just say I did some things I’m not proud of, but my editors understood my commitment to total immersion journalism.” Dr. Jeff, disgruntled that someone else is attempting to be the center of conversation, clumsily interrupts by boasting of his time in Southeast Asia; presumably Ted will respond with a charming series of anecdotes about burned villages and necklaces made of human ears.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/16/09

Rex spent most of Sunday insisting that June avoid the ship’s tap water due to the Norwalk outbreak raging onboard; apparently, though, the rest of the passengers are to be kept in the dark about this, which is probably OK as none of them are drinking water anyway. Still, I look forward to future installments in which Rex makes sure that his family gets first dibs on medicine and lifeboat space.

Spider-Man, 2/16/09

I’m no expert on the Spider-Man mythos, but my understanding is that when Aunt May is in trouble and wondering where Peter is as in panel three, he’s usually off fighting crime in his superhero persona, and not transparently using a disaster as an opportunity to get laid.

Judge Parker, 2/16/09

“There will only be one Judge Parker, dad! Because now, in accordance with ancient judicial tradition, I must ritually bludgeon you to death with your gavel, and then marry my own stepmother. Thanks for picking a second wife who’s more or less my age!”

Marmaduke, 2/16/09

You know, sometimes I think I’m done with “Marmaduke is a terrifying flesh-eating monster” jokes. But then I see panels like this.