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Crock, 12/12/07

Today’s Crock has plenty of little run-of-the-mill terrible touches — like, for instance, the word balloon in panel two, clearly drawn for three lines of text, but with only two lines of text actually floating in it. But I’m sort of intrigued by the random pink squiggles in the background of the first panel. I’d like to believe that they’re blood streaks on the wall from the last perky thin saleslady who tried to talk smack about Grossie, but it’s more likely that someone was trying to draw some clothing racks in the background to add a little detail to the scene and then suddenly realized that no, wait, this is Crock, what am I doing.

Luann, 12/12/07

I thought that for sheer irritation, nothing could beat the “Dirk and Brad compete for Toni’s affection via the Christmas food drive” storyline from a couple of years back, but now I can see that the “Brad and Toni sublimate their incomprehensible attraction via the Christmas food drive” is going to come close. Brad’s Neanderthal suggestion that a meeting isn’t a date unless he’s paying will presumably blow up in his face when he cruises to food-gathering victory (thanks to TJ coming through with a bunch of cans of Dinty Moore stew that “fell off the back of a truck”), leaving him to enjoy a meal of lobster (which he will adamantly insist is NOT A DATE) and loneliness.

Mark Trail, 12/12/07

Luke Wilson spotted canoodling with mystery woman!

Luke Wilson, star of such Hollywood pictures as The Royal Tenenbaums and Old School, has been seen around town with a mysterious dark-haired and arch-eyebrowed beauty. The picture below was snapped as they left the Ivy last month:

Now reports are coming in that this lady is married — or was, until her husband’s murder last month. Hollywood is abuzz with the notion that Luke, long known as the “not crazy Wilson brother”, might have something to do with the dastardly deed. Though a mustachioed French-Canadian hillbilly has been jailed for the crime, NOAA weather spokesman Mark Trail insists that the Quebecker is innocent. “You exploited a friend of mine’s fiery temper!” Trail was heard to shout at Wilson at a party at Chateau Marmont.

Family Circus, 12/12/07

I’m not sure what exactly those papers are that Big Daddy Keane is holding in his lap, but they look official, what with the seal on top and everything. Let’s hope they’re the forms for committing Jeffy to that special school far away so that nobody has to listen to his idiotic questions anymore.

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Apartment 3-G, 11/28/07

Hmm, perhaps I was too hasty yesterday when I dismissed out of hand the idea that there might be some tension between the A3G narration boxes and the actual narrative. How else to explain panel one, in which we are told that our fearsome foursome are “on the way to the tavern” when in fact they are very obviously standing around in Apartment 3-G’s blandly decorated living room and not going anywhere? The only way they could be less going to the tavern is if they were out on the street walking away from the tavern, though that would be harder to convey in the limited panel space here.

On the other hand, the sudden transition from blinding white to inky black in the second panel is evocative of some kind of movement. Maybe the Professor has whipped up some advanced transporter device, and we’re seeing them walk through a hole in space-time to emerge safely on the tavern’s front steps without having to encounter Manhattan street riff-raff. Or maybe there’s just an entrance to a Prohibition-era secret passageway behind the girls’ kitchen cabinets that connects to every gin joint in town.

Dennis the Menace, 11/28/07

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen Dennis with a look of obvious panic on his face; I guess it’s also the first time I’ve seen him with his pants down. I’ll stop going further down this incredibly inappropriate road because I mainly wonder how this can be worked into the increasingly awesome The Luck of Dennis St. Michel, Viscount Stokington. If you ever doubted that the combination of Dennis the Menace and Regency pastiche would be completely hilarious, this blog should put your mind at rest.

Mary Worth, 11/28/07

Man, I thought Mary was cold-hearted over the past few days as she allowed him to believe that she had some gentleman caller over so that he’d run over and fight for her honor. Now she continues to thrust her hound at her erstwhile not-lover as the latter’s respiratory passages begin to seize up. The question now is: who will win this battle of wills for Mary’s heart? Chester’s cuter, but Jeff is probably marginally smarter.

In panel one, Mary is waving Chester’s little paw at Jeff to give some veneer of respectability to her blatant attempt to thrust the dog’s genitals in the good doctor’s face.

Luann, 11/28/07

I’d say that this is supposed to be some sort of commentary on how secular iconography is displacing the true religious significance of the Christmas holiday, but this is the same strip that had town tramp Tiffany playing the Virgin Mary in this pageant. Luann headquarters is lucky that it isn’t a smoldering, lightning-struck hole right now.

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Luann, 11/21/07

Pity the poor Luann creative team! In the continuing slow evolution of the strip’s characters, they’ve hit upon a potential gold mind of potential wacky plots: two young men living together, one somewhat impressionable, one somewhat scheming. Normally, you could just lie back and let the hijinks happen. But this is a comic strip that runs in mainstream family newspapers, so all the topics that you’d think of using for this setup — getting girls pregnant, hard drugs, getting into fights, having sex with girls, marijuana, hard liquor, video games, kissing girls, beer, uncleanliness, having physical contact of any sort with girls — are apparently off limits. We’re instead left with TJ’s manic holiday decorating jones, which, while potentially mildly amusing, seems a wee bit out of touch. Couldn’t Santa’s arm fly off in front of some little kids who would then wet their pants in terror at the sight? Oops, pants-wetting: also off-limits, apparently.

Blondie, 11/21/07

This is presumably supposed to be some sort of wry social commentary about how the commercial exploitation of Christmas seems to begin earlier and earlier every year with the stores and the malls and the waddyagonnadoamiright?, but it seems perfectly reasonable to me that desperate food addict Dagwood Bumstead would be so in love with Thanksgiving, a holiday whose main ritual is gluttony, that he’d build a series of twisted idols to it. My only surprise is that the Thanksgiving tree isn’t being trimmed with real edible yams and turkey flesh, to be consumed once everything on the table has been crammed down Dagwood’s ravenous gullet. Elmo, who has long settled into the role of Dagwood’s enabler, wants to know how he can assist with the rampant food worship; only Daisy wordlessly questions the madness.

Family Circus, 11/21/07

A good way to keep Dolly in line is to keep her ignorant of actual theology and just tell her that things that annoy you are sins that will damn her soul to hell for all eternity. Other sins in the Keane household: running in the house, staying up past eight o’clock, talking while mommy and daddy are trying to watch TV, and singing Christmas carols at any time.

Pluggers, 11/21/07

“Wait a minute!” I’m sure you said when you saw Pluggers this morning. “Canada? They don’t have pluggers in Canada! How can pluggers live in the land of Hillarycare and a marriage between a dog-man and a rhino-man? Admittedly, this submission came not from the hot-shot big city of Toronto but rather from some little town called ‘Torono’ that I’ve never heard of, but still … Canada?” Well, fear not for your sense of sanity: Idris Mercer is actually faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader Skullturf Q. Beavispants! I actually remember him mentioning this as a potential Pluggers entry in the comments some months back; I’m sure he’s gratified to see his idea acted out by an obese, flannel-clad semihuman. Not that I don’t fully encourage all of you to keep sending your petty gripes to TDIET (and we have plenty coming up in the next couple of months) but the Pluggers code has been harder to crack, and we must salute Mr. Beavispants as a result.

Unlike those who had their entries employed by TDIET, Skullturf was not contacted and told that his idea would be run, nor was he sent a suitable-for-framing copy of the cartoon, because pluggers don’t expect or deserve that sort of consideration.