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The Lockhorns, 6/20/06

So, just in case you were wondering, the Lockhorns’ marriage: still a nightmarish, soul-destroying prison from which there is no escape. As usual with this feature, once you start unpacking what’s going on, it’s hard to decide which aspect of this depressing vignette is the most heartbreaking:

• Leroy has a porn dungeon.
• The “porn” in Leroy’s porn dungeon consists of PG-13-rated pictures of girls in bikinis.
• Loretta knows all about Leroy’s porn dungeon, possibly because he’s made no attempt to hide it.
• Loretta casually points out Leroy’s porn dungeon to houseguests.
• Loretta casually points out Leroy’s porn dungeon to houseguests with that stricken yet resigned look on her face that says, “Oh, God, if I had known what was in store for me, I would have drowned myself when I was a little girl!”

Mark Trail, 6/20/06

“I’ve heard about it … that would make a good story! Say, did you know that the Chinese often poach tigers for their penises in order to make aphrodisiacs? You know, Mark, whenever I think of tiger penises, I think of you … tiger.”

I’d love to think that my invocation of notorious Trailian temptress Kelly Welly last week caused her to appear, but really, if we’re going to reach the heights achieved by the petnapping hillbilly storyline, it was pretty obvious that we needed some sex appeal, stat. Notice how courtly Mark is about pulling Kelly’s chair out for her. Of course, behind her back, he’s not so chivalrous.

Apartment 3-G, 6/20/06

I know she’s trying to think fast and all, but is this the lamest excuse for getting caught in the act in the history of getting caught in the act? What kind of poetry would that be, Lucy? Tongue poetry?

Here are my alternative suggestions for what Lucy should have said. Clip ‘n’ save ‘n’ memorize in case you’re caught in a similar bout of illicit snogging.

• “It’s not what you think, Tommie. Seth is in my tongue cancer awareness group. Did you know that the best way to detect a precancerous growth on your tongue is to have someone else touch it with his tongue?”
• “It’s not what you think, Tommie. Seth and I were just rehearsing for a play! Well, it’s actually a movie. A … porno movie. OK, we’re just going to get it on in front of a Webcam.”
• “It’s not what you think, Tommie. This is Ted! He’s on the run from the mob, so he had to have massive reconstructive surgery on his face.”
• “It’s pretty much exactly what you think, Tommie. But Ted is a loser chump and Seth here is an awesome lay.”

Meanwhile, Seth (if that is his name, which I doubt — if Lucy even knows his name, which she probably does but it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t) is not at all fazed by Tommie’s attempt to be all like, “Hey, buddy, your lady’s a cheatin’ ho!” Frankly, I don’t think he’s even listening to her. Look at the brutish, criminal face framed by that flattop — his eyes never leave Lucy’s face, and all that’s running through his head is “PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY SMOOCH SMOOCH HUBBA HUBBA.” Which is pretty much why Lucy likes him.

By the way, the Finger Quotin’ Margo contest is now closed. I will post all the entries tomorrow sometime, if all goes well, and announce a winner … uh … as soon as I figure out how exactly to judge all the totally excellent entries I received. Geez, what have I gotten myself into?

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B.C., 1/24/06

Shoe, 1/24/06

The Lockhorns, 1/24/06

I love it when people write angry letters to the paper. I’m a connoisseur of ridiculously overblown outrage. My favorites, as you might imagine, are the people who complain about the comics, how they are full of sleaze like single mothers and gays and uppity Negroes and people who use the word “butt” and/or “Jesus Christ” (the latter irreverently) and won’t someone please think of the CHILDREN? It’s always the CHILDREN who must be protected, because, as we all know, the CHILDREN are the ones who read the comics pages.

Well, if I were a child, I would be less disturbed by gratuitous use of the word “butt” and more by authors who think that its funny to admit that you have no concept of how high tech devices work. If I were around 8, I’d just be puzzled that there was anyone out there who was so dense; if I were around 12, I would just feel disgust and contempt for such fogeys. I don’t mean to hate on those who are baffled by all our modern conveniences — I’m sure that fifty years from now all the kids with their skull-installed data ports will be mocking me — but today’s Shoe and B.C. just seem to exude a certain stubborn pride in not getting it. (Does Johnny Hart really think that the word “iPod” should appear in a different font from the rest of the sentence? Does he even know what one is, outside the context of those ads with the shadow people?) The Lockhorns, meanwhile, doesn’t even bother to engage with technology, and merely seems to believe that mother-in-law-joke + “e-” prefix designating technology of some kind = comedy gold.

Some comics actually do a good job of dealing with technology jokes. Dilbert and Fox Trot are obvious examples; and For Better or for Worse does a pretty good job of showing how Internet communication is a casual part of people’s lives (particularly young people’s lives). Even Cathy’s endless Irving-becomes-obsessed-with-some-gadget storylines ring true in terms of how some people go a little tech-crazy. Those plots still aren’t funny, mind you, but they don’t come off like they’re being pounded out by some gin-crazed 90-year-old on a aging Selectric typewriter, or shouted into one of those old-timey phones with a crank on the side.

Oh, and I couldn’t let this one by:

Words to live by, my friend. Words to live by.

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Today I atone for posting slack by presenting you with three quickies:

The Lockhorns, 1/10/06

I spent an inordinate amount of brainpower trying to work out if this was supposed some sort of double entendre (involving the words “pussy”, “ball”, or “yarn”), but I think it’s just the typical, straight up, please-God-kill-me-now Lockhorns shtick. I draw your attention to the emotionally deadened faces of the non-Lockhorn half of this foursome. There are no non-Lockhorn recurring characters in this feature; presumably Leroy and Loretta inevitably pull their dinner-theater George-and-Martha routine in every available social situation and never get a second invite.

Mark Trail, 1/10/06

How much of a square-jawed, raven-haired badass is Mark Trail? He’s totally ignoring this heavily armed overalled hillbilly to have a conversation with his dog about how the two of them are going to escape from said heavily armed hillbilly’s animal-napping compound. It’s that sort of devil-may-care attitude that will get him and Andy busted out in no time, or get him shot in the back of the head. Either way, it’ll make for some good readin’.

One Big Happy, 1/10/06

Ah, James, Ruthie’s white-trashy friend: you think you’re hardcore, with your squirty cheese and your squirty desert. But if you’re just balling up a glob of your squirty cheese and popping it in your mouth with a jaunty FTTT, you’re not hardcore, do you hear me? You’re not hardcore unless you squirt that squirty cheese directly into your mouth. I’ve done it, James. Have you? Huh? Are you hardcore, James? Huh? Are you?

Ahem. Apropos of nothing, I would like to direct the attention of all you Ted Forth haters to this post on yellowjkt’s blog. If you don’t come away with newfound respect for the Tedster, you are a lost cause.