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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!”

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Dick Tracy, 1/6/07

Now, the number of you who have followed the current storyline in Dick Tracy in as much detail as I have can probably be counted on one hand. This is because this storyline, like Dick Tracy in general, is kind of bad. But I have to admit that I found this strip, in which things are brought more or less to a triumphant conclusion, to have a kind of quiet charm. From Dick’s dialogue which, while not quite poetic, at least has a certain pleasing alliterative rhythm to it (“made our minds his prisoners”, “now we’ve neutered his neurons”) to the sad, defeated look on Dr. Froid’s face, to the tiny little QWINK his sinister device makes as it’s powered down for good, the whole thing has a certain dignity that pretty much everything that’s happened up to this point has lacked.

For Better Or For Worse, 1/6/07

Speaking of lacking in dignity, I haven’t commented on FBOFW this week, mostly because I’ve grown so disgruntled with the plot direction that I don’t even know how to feel about Elizabeth’s inevitable discovery of Paul’s philandering. On the one hand, it provides an easy way for Elizabeth to be driven into the dull, reassuring arms of The Mustache, without any even slight lowering of her status as the strip’s incomprehensibly elevated Noble Goddess. On the other hand, a Patterson will experience emotional pain and anguish. So there’s that.

One thing I know exactly how to feel about is the strip’s patented and increasingly phoned-in punny punchlines: Bad. Bad is how I feel about them. “I’m going to say my boyfriend’s last name for no reason other than to supply a pun for my little sister’s ensuing thought balloon!” Bad.

Judge Parker, 1/6/07

Many faithful readers with a better grasp of geography and typical travel schedules than Judge Parker have pointed out that transatlantic flights simply do not land in Europe at 1:30 in the morning, ever. Still, based on her creepy white eyes in panel three, it’s no mystery why Neddy wants to go to the Champs-Elysées before sunup: to feast on the blood of the living.