Archive: Judge Parker

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Family Circus, 1/21/07

I thought I had seen the depths to which Keane family dysfunction could sink, but that was before murderous little Jeffy sweet-talked his mother into lovingly handcrafting the very projectiles with which she would soon be pelted. In a way, this cartoon is emblematic of that dark, little-discussed side of parenthood: sometimes, you can pour all of your soul into that little life that you nurtured first in your body and then in your home, neglecting your own private life, personal development, and relationship with your partner to help them become a person, only to see them transformed into an inscrutable monster, an opaque being who only resents you for crimes you can’t imagine or explain, who, despite the years of midnight feedings and changed diapers and band-aids and drives to school and hot meals, is ready to crack your skull open with a ball of ice the moment you turn your back.

On the other hand, she did call him “little man.” I’d be pretty pissed too.

Beetle Bailey, 1/21/07

I know they’re called “throwaway panels” because they just get thrown away, but really, this isn’t even trying. “Hey, I’ve got to fill these two panels with something — how about something that isn’t funny on its own, and that doesn’t really fit in with the main joke, but is just close enough to it that you sort of stare at it for a while scratching your head waiting for it to make sense, but it never does? Bingo! Tee time! I’m off!”

Judge Parker, 1/21/07

With what look like new Barretto-drawn strips back in the daily Judge Parker, our anonymous fill-in artist is offering his swan song with some entirely gratuitous Abbey T&A. I ask you, does anyone rock the chino capris like Ms. Spencer? I think she goes down to Old Navy and buys the Ass Crack Revealing Cut version in bulk.

Also, Sunday’s Mary Worth was a wasteland of exposition and white people, but in the final panel we did get to see her terrifying all-seeing third eye!

I never doubted your powers, o master! Please to not tear my soul asunder with your oculus of ultimate power!

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B.C., 1/12/07

I … I thought B.C. was funny today, kinda. It made me laugh.

I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better in the future.

Judge Parker, 1/12/07

So in between the “Randy Parker gay election smear” storyline and the “Abbey attempts to stop Neddy from going wild in Paris” storyline, Judge Parker’s been giving us little glimpses of this “Old biddy’s butler is sick so she hires a temp butler” storyline, which, I think, hooks up with the others because the old biddy is in Paris and is somehow a relative of Abbey and/or Neddy and will be the sexy twosome’s hostess in the City of Light. Anyway, I’ve been pretty amused by the whole idea of a butler temp agency — believe me, having worked on and off as an office temp to make extra cash while I was in grad school, standing stone-faced at attention awaiting the orders of some septuagenarian aristocrat would probably be more enjoyable than, say, calling a list of phone numbers to make sure they were still fax lines and hearing that horrible SCREEEEEEE every time — but my amusement ground to a halt when I saw the horrifying, soulless visage of “Mr. Hart” in panel three. At best, he’s a cybernetic automaton, impersonating a human for some mysterious purpose; at worst, he’s a demon from below hell, sent to reap the souls of all concerned. Plus, he’s Canadian, so: super scary.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/12/07

Yeah, Niki, you did the “right thing” by calling June. That Elvis was probably going to take you for a “ride.” He’s one shady “character.” He probably … what? Oh, there’s someone here who wants to talk to you:

Margo! Do you kiss your comical immigrant mother with that mouth? I … I can’t control her, folks, I’m sorry.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 1/12/07

What it’s like to be me: I just spent ten minutes staring at this panel trying to figure out if this is the first ever black person in TDIET. Whatever the case, her butt is disproportionately and disturbingly large.

Pluggers, 1/12/07

Plugger refrigerators are full of sexual predators.

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The Family Cirus, 1/7/07

I had thought that the whole “childhood obesity epidemic” was something of an overblown moral panic. But that was before I saw the Family Circus clan celebrating their holiday weight gain. Kids! Competitive eating isn’t cool! Just because that freakishly thin Japanese guy can eat 78 hot dogs in an hour or whatever doesn’t mean you should try it at home.

Crock, 1/7/06

At first I thought the saddest thing about this Crock was that “WHUMP THUMP THUMP BUMP” was supposed to be music of some kind, probably rap music. Then I thought it was that the artist might actually believe that a boom box is a featureless grey box with a single button on the side. Then I thought it was that the whole “boom box” thing was a desperate stab at relevance at some kind for the “kids today.” Then I realized that trying to work out the saddest thing about this cartoon was in itself a deeply depressing exercize.

Judge Parker, 1/7/07

Oh man, Abbey’s misguided attempts to be a “cool parent” in Paris are going to be aweseome. She’s already getting Neddy drunk and they haven’t even landed yet. I can’t wait until Ned picks out the cutest boy, and Abbey has to go seal the deal. “My daughter, she is lovely, yes? You would like to make sweet Franco-American love to her, yes? I can make that happen.”

Mark Trail, 1/7/07

For those of you who can’t make out the type in the yellow box at the lower right that I’ve circled for you, it reads as follows:

Thanks to the Smithsonian Magazine, whose articles have been a useful resource for information used in Mark Trail.

Allow me to translate:

“Aw, CRAP! Deadline! CRAP! Uh … Sunday strip. Uh. What do we have lying around here? Hmm … Us Magazine … wow, Owen Wilson and Kate Hudson … NO! FOCUS! Wait, what’s this? Smithsonian? Hmm, polar bears … melting ice caps … oh yeah, they’ll eat that crap up. That’s gold, baby!”