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Gil Thorp, 7/11/07

Ha ha! Oh, man, the Gil Thorp summer hijinks are getting started even more quickly than I could have hoped! I’m totally in love with Gail Martin, the “rock and roll Carole King,” as she was called yesterday; truly, nothing shouts “rock and roll” like a collared shirt and a long braid that you clutch dramatically to your chest while you belt out your non-hits and your banjo player grooves behind you. This looks exactly like the kind of scene where a brawl would break out, and I look forward to tomorrow’s weirdly proportioned and strangely angled fisticuffs. Since Kelly has a troubled past with guys with rage issues, this should provide excellent fuel for one of the eleven rapidly crosscut dramas that will be entertaining us until football practice starts up again.

Apartment 3-G, 7/11/07

Ruby’s dialogue says “funny Texan with more realistic ideals of beauty than these supposedly sophisticated New York City girls,” but her solemn expression in panel three, along with Tommie and Margo’s panicked exchange of glances, says “violent feederism.” In two weeks, look for the two of them to be tied to their chairs, their faces smeared with tangy barbecue sauce, begging for mercy, as Ruby says, “Nuh-uh, Maggie, you still only got one chin!”

Ziggy, 7/11/07

If you thought that the sight of a desperate, insane, bald dwarf with no pants jabbering about the dishonesty of inanimate objects while thrusting a fifteen-year-old household appliance at bemused service worker wouldn’t be funny, well, today’s Ziggy is here to be prove you wrong. I actually laughed aloud at this. Ziggy may continue to exist, as far as I’m concerned.

As I look at it more, I’m sort of hypnotized by the text in Ziggy’s word balloon. The symmetry between the sentence-initial “i” (lowercase, in defiance of all known typographical conventions) and the final exclamation mark, makes it look like he’s actually shouting “T lies!” in Spanish. Which, for my money, is even funnier.

Luann, 7/11/07

I’m only marginally less sick of Brad-Toni than I am of Curtis-Michelle, but this sequence is growing on me. If Toni ends up running off with uberskeeze TJ because of his cooking (or “cooking”) skills, I will be willing to forgive a lot that’s happened in the last few years.

Dick Tracy, 7/11/07

It just wouldn’t be Dick Tracy if the payoff didn’t include somebody writhing around in pain. This isn’t the optimistic fantasy land of Mark Trail; those eyes aren’t growing back.

Family Circus, 7/11/07

Hmm, what’s the most alarming part of this? Yeah, I’m going to have to say that it’s Big Daddy Keane’s little smile.

Gasoline Alley, 7/11/07

Gasoline Alley: the one comic strip that isn’t afraid to show you how the system is stacked against the white man.

Spider-Man, 7/11/07

In a strip that brought us such epic battles as Dr. Octopus vs. his television, Spidey vs. a bowl-hatted butler, Spidey vs. his own outdated ideas of economics and gender, and, of course Spidey vs. a brick, today’s struggle between J. Jonah Jameson and Larry King may represent a dramatic zenith.

And, finally, I’m sure sexy toast-eating is somebody’s fetish, so:

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/11/07

Go to town, perverts!

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Dennis the Menace, 6/13/07

I don’t pretend to keep track of what the kids are into these days in terms of whimsical and impractical forms of transportation — I’ve only just got my mind around the concept of “heelies.” That having been said, we do have a number of Dennis/Joey-aged kids in the neighborhood, and I have yet to see any of them bouncing down the street on the back of some sort of freakish pastel-colored fitness ball with a handle. Honestly, it looks like they’ve somehow lassoed and tamed the terrifying balloon-guard thingy from The Prisoner. File this under “menacing,” in the “surreal and disturbing” subcategory.

For Better Or For Worse, 6/13/07

All right, let me just say this: I love her! She’s short, she’s brassy, she’s not afraid to show off her dental work. In three panels she’s displayed more personality than Liz has in the past three years of moping, thought ballooning, fleeing from excitement, and getting cheated on. Who’s with me on Team Julia?

Of course, the first meeting between Anthony’s new love interest/employee and the Great White Goose That Broke His Heart is rife with underlying tension, and Julia, being a forward lass, is clearly up for some psychological gameswomanship. The question is, what not-so-subtle message is she trying to send to Liz with her little dental display?

• “See these teeth? Back off, bitch, or I will bite you.”
• “I’m putting my finger down my throat because you make me want to barf.”
• “Yeah, I can open my mouth this wide — and you wonder why Anthony’s smiling? Oh, I guess you don’t know what I’m talking about, since you’re so determined to avoid a cream dress at your wedding — your wedding that ain’t ever gonna happen!”
• “Yeah, he actually said ‘inconvenient tooth.’ Your whole family’s sense of humor sucks. Why couldn’t I have had his assistant the morsel work on me?”

Funky Winkerbean, 6/13/07

Since I am usually relentlessly derisive towards Funky Winkerbean’s relentless grimness, I feel obligated in the interest of fairness to mention that I’ve really been enjoying the “freaks and geeks go to the prom” storyline this week. At first I thought that Mopey Pete was moving in for a smooch in the first panel, but I think he’s just permanently slouched due to the crushing weight of his ennui.

Judge Parker, 6/13/07

Oh, man, I love Sophie: girl knows how to work that entirely unearned wealth. You might recall that the wacky Raju storyline was set in motion when she outsourced her homework to India. By the time she’s 21, she’ll either be presiding over a Spencer Farms-branded horsefeed import-export business and using her deep pockets to undercut her competitors, or snorting coke off of a Piet Mondrian and then beating the servants with a gold brick.

Luann, 6/13/07

I am trying with all my might to ignore the completely asinine current plot of Luann, but I cannot ignore the visuals in panel two. Why is Bernice wearing very dark and clownishly applied lipstick? Why is Luann suddenly sporting very long, probably fake eyelashes? Are they trying to show us the strip would look like if it were acted out by two cut-rate drag queens?

Because if they are, I’m honestly kind of intrigued. I’m not sure what it would take to get me interested in this storyline, but “having it acted out by two cut-rate drag queens” is probably on the list somewhere.

Mary Worth, 6/13/07

“Are you serious? After the last one, where I was ogled and belittled by the freaks who live here? Oh, hell no.”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/13/07

Look at that little smile in panel three — Hugh is doing some Creepster Math in his head. “Hot, emotionally vulnerable stepmom + hot-sounding June – annoying, meddling Pete = three-way! Looks like this little trip to America was worth my while after all!”

Zippy the Pinhead, 6/13/07

Zippy the Pinhead isn’t the groundbreaking strip it once was, but I’ll say this for it: when Zippy takes off his shirt, he’s got nipples, by God, unlike Mark Trail or Dagwood Bumstead. A pointless taboo broken!

While I’m perfectly comfortable seeing his dainty little nips, I have to say that his sock(?)-clad, Hagar the Horrible-esque, potato-shaped feet scare the hell out of me.

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Archie, 5/8/07

From today’s comments, I’m glad to see that the bulk of you share my horror at the Archie-Joke-Generating-Laugh-Unit 3000’s attempt to understand the human soul. The AJGLU 3000, having been programmed with the main motivations for everyone in Riverdale, apparently believes that it would be amusing to see these three running eternally after their hearts’ desires (Jughead: a White Castle slider; Reggie: a dollar sign written on a piece of paper; Archie: Betty’s severed head), never getting closer, their numb faces reflecting their dawning awareness of the Sisyphean nature of their task.

One sometimes wonders to what degree human beings intervene in the AJGLU 3000’s workflow. On the one hand, Coach No-Name, despite his boasts about the track team’s prowess, has a thousand-mile stare in panel two; clearly he knows just what an awful thing he’s done to his innocent charges, and expects retribution, either from a merciful God or in a lawsuit for emotional distress. That moment of self-awareness could never have come from a computer. On the other hand, if people edited this strip, you think they’d have noticed that all three runners have had their left arms hacked off, or that Archie is about to stomp on a puppy.

Gil Thorp, 5/8/07

Hey, does that middle panel of inscrutably drawn young women staring silently confuse you and creep you out as much as it does me? You’re actually supposed to be seeing things through Branden’s eyes as her attempt to rally her teammates into a world of harmony and goodness flops terribly. You’ll note that the two girls the back of whose heads you can see in panel one are facing forward in panel two — Paris, who God only knows why I remember her name, and stripy-tank-top-girl, who I think might be the nosey newspaper reporter maybe? And then there are some blondes. Anyway, even to get this far into understanding what’s going on, you have to have read this damn thing every day and take a minute or two to connect the dots, which means that only I and twelve other people in America have done so. The artists would be better off making all of their panels look like panel two: wordless collections of random people staring at you with dead eyes.

Speaking of dead eyes, Coach Mrs. Coach Thorp is horning into Funky Winkerbean territory, waiting to hear back on the results of some chronic and inspiring illness that she’s been so busy dealing with that she can’t beat some sense into her feuding softball team. Evidentially she doesn’t want to hear what the doctor has to say, as she’s put the earpiece of her phone outside her hair and halfway back her skull.

Luann, 5/8/07

I don’t want to say that Luann’s plots should feature explicit, hardcore, toon-on-toon sex, but … wait, do I want to say that? No, no, I don’t. But I do want them to stop acting like the characters are screwing or fooling around or kissing or having meaningful non-platonic relationships when they so clearly are not. If you had seen this strip out of context, you’d assume that Tiffany had come down to the fire station and hurled herself at Brad, and that they had gotten it on in the back of the ambulance, or at least made out for a while. Instead, what actually happened is that she ran her fingers up his tie and made several double entendres. The end. And now, Luann is going to freak. Because she’s in the Taliban or something and Tiffany has polluted her brother with her harlot fingers. It makes no God damned sense at all.

Also, Brad made some reference to previously having a girlfriend, by which he could only be referring to his totally pretend not-relationship with Toni Daytona. Which means that Brad has no idea what a “girlfriend” actually is, which I do find kind of plausible, now that I think about it.

On a different subject, many of you cruelly mocked recent maybe-widow and smooth corporate operator Heather Avery for having a pig nose in today’s Rex Morgan, M.D. But faithful reader bobbaloo (aka bob byrd) took a more charitable view: he thinks her nose just became detached from its moorings and accidentally flipped upside-down. Behold his correction! (The original is on the right.)