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The Lockhorns, 8/14/12

One of the twisted, dysfunctional “games” played by George and Martha, the main characters in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, is talking about their non-existent son. They each tell stories about him, making things up as they go along to create a fuller picture of him; but, as in all improv, the rule is that each has to take the other’s story as canonical. This is a private game, though, and when Martha starts playing it in front of another couple specifically to annoy George, George retaliates by telling her their fake son died in a car crash.

This is a long way to point out that, like George and Martha, Leroy and Loretta don’t have any children either. So I suppose that whatever just happened in that big box store was some variation on George and Martha’s game — a little less creepy, perhaps, but a lot more expensive.

Curtis, 8/14/12

I’m actually really enjoying this “Curtis and Barry are trapped in an apartment with a dead lady and a bunch of cats” storyline, as it’s the strangest and more interesting thing to happen in the strip since Kwanzaa. Still, I question whether old people actually have more lightbulbs on hand than younger folks, and I also would have enjoyed seeing the Wilkins boys come up with an adult diaper-based escape plan.

Archie, 8/14/12

I’m really looking forward to violent class war breaking out in Riverdale! Which of the town’s proletarians will abandon class consciousness and side with their capitalist oppressors? Reggie? It’ll be Reggie, right?

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Lockhorns, 8/8/12

The Lockhorns isn’t just another comic panel; it’s one of the grimmest and most unsparing glimpses into the ways that the absence of love can wear you down into a sense of misery that’s so all-pervasive that you don’t even realize anything else is possible. I love how dead everyone looks in this panel. Leroy is so far gone he can’t even imagine how pathetic and small his request makes him look in front of a stranger; Loretta is dying of embarrassment but can’t summon up the words to explain why; and the pizza delivery kid, slouched over and numb, gets another glimpse of what appears to be the universal soul-crushing awfulness of adulthood, and is getting a crappy tip to boot.

Curtis, 8/8/12

Just a little whimsy in Curtis, where the Wilkins boys help out an old cat lady with some chores and then she drops dead! The facial expressions in the final panel are so great that I feel comfortable forgiving future Weekend at Bernie’s-style zaniness in advance.

Pluggers, 8/8/12

You’re a plugger if you remember when you used to eat at actual restaurants that served recognizable food, but a fried chicken dinner at one of those places cost like $9 plus tip, whereas you can get a 10-piece Chicken Nugget meal for $6, and sure it’s not “chicken” so much as “processed reformed chicken meat” but you get more of it plus it’s a lot faster and you can order right from your car, what does anyone expect you to do, what do you look like, some kind of big city elitist?

Ziggy, 8/8/12

Ha ha, it’s funny because Ziggy has finally realized he’s a slave to global capital!

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Herb and Jamaal, 8/1/12

Herb’s mother-in-law Eula, who both lives and works with him, is always on his case, constantly. One could write this off as just part of the eternal conflict between a mother-in-law and her child’s spouse, or, perhaps more accurately, as a tired, stereotypical retreading of the supposedly eternal conflict between a mother-in-law and her child’s spouse. Or, as today’s strip demonstrates, it could be that she’s terrified by Herb’s obvious emotional and sexual connection to his “best buddy Jamaal,” and will do anything to distract him from it, in the vain hope that she can keep her family together.

Lockhorns, 8/1/12

Call the Lockhorns hackneyed if you must, but it can still take us to depths of relationship hell that we never imagined existed. I mean, just think if you were at a place in your marriage when you thought, “God, I wish we had gotten that murder-suicide pact nailed down when the time was right. But what’s the point, now?”

Marvin, 8/1/12

It’s Marvin’s 30th anniversary, and from this day forward, I will no longer think of him as a horrible brat-child glorying in his inability or refusal to poop in a toilet. Instead, I will pity him as a victim of a capricious creator who for whatever perverse reason delights in forcing him to stew in his own excrement.

Shoe, 8/1/12

You may be alarmed to learn that Shoe is having sex with his golf clubs. Personally, I’m even more unsettled to discover that he’s getting emotionally attached to some of them.