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Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/06

Is Funky Winkerbean where joy goes to die? It’s not enough to have Mopey McMopester slouching around and complaining because his best friend is finally getting some; apparently, his face needs to be drawn to make it look like he’s been crying more or less constantly for the past three days. My prediction is that our jilted nerd will eventually get together with this gothy Asian chick; but, by the time they get around to doing glum, black-clad things to one another, the other kid and the cheerleader will have broken up. Either that, or Chien and Jessica have some longstanding beef that will sunder this friendship for good. Because nobody can be happy in Funky Winkerbean, ever.

Luann, 9/8/06

Meanwhile, there are changes afoot at a much happier high school, as Gunther and Luann do a half-assed thought-balloon version of the classic dialogue from Double Indemnity. I wonder if what Luann is wondering is, “Jesus, how is it possible for Gunther to have tiny, beady little pupils and no eyeballs to speak of? And what’s the deal with the huge expanse of skin between his eyes and his eyebrows?” That’s what I’m wondering, anyway.

Pluggers, 9/8/06

Q. How many pluggers does it take to reinforce traditional gender roles?

A. All of them.

This strip, which is apparently so retrograde that it the Chief Plugger got tired of waiting for someone to submit it and just whipped it up himself, poses an interesting philosophical question: Is there such a thing as a female plugger? Or is Pluggerdom an all-male brotherhood, with the best that anyone without external genitalia can hope for being the lesser but still honorable title of “plugger’s wife”? While this cartoon seems to imply the latter, remember that the Fox-Woman (or is she a kangaroo? or some kind of dog?) has already been established to have a job that involves wearing a suit, which complicates matters: maybe there are she-pluggers, but this woman is only a plugger-in-law. She’s clearly acclimating real nice, though. Wouldn’t want those soft, feminine hands, good for cleaning dishes and spanking li’l pluggers, all calloused up by rough, strenuous man’s work like changing the light bulbs. Hope you’re don’t mind sitting in the dark till your husband gets back from the pawn shop, lady.

Mary Worth, 9/8/06

You know you’re in trouble when the Woody Allen defense suddenly seems like a good idea.

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Shoe, 8/31/06

The punchline of this joke is at once bland, hackneyed, vaguely sexist, told better elsewhere, and immediately forgettable — classic Shoe, in other words. Of more interest to the comics student is Roz’s wide-eyed, head-bobbling reaction. She looks like the Perfersser just told her that the Health Department is planning to shut her diner down because of a psittacosis outbreak, not because she’s just been fed some dumb “male birds are from Mars, female birds are from Venus” shtick. (By the way, Perfesser, girl birds have feathers, not hair.) Is she not used to this sort of lameness? How long has she been in this damn strip?

The Phantom, 8/31/06

I have to admit to being a little dissapointed with the conclusion of this Phantom storyline, with the Ghost-Who-Yuks-It-Up-With-Midgets seeming pretty blasé about allowing Chatu the Shirtless Terrorist to escape and shirtlessly terrorize another day. Now we know that, for the Phantom, the big thrill is not bringing bare-torsoed ne’er-do-wells to justice, but instead setting things up so that you can really screw with their heads a few years down the line.

Luann, 8/31/06

Hey, everybody! The Toni and Brad Show’s back! Just like we’ve all been waiting for all this time! Right? Right?

Right?

[awkward silence]

In an effort to say something nice, I’ll say this: I like the way Reddy’s eyes are cast sarcastically to the right in the first panel. I’m imagining an elaborate series of electrodes attached to Brad’s ape-like mug so that the li’l safety robot can display a full panoply of lifelike facial expressions.

Mary Worth, 8/31/06

And heeeeere comes the bludgeoning.

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Luann, 8/24/06

As noted, “couples retreat” was clearly code for “swinger’s convention”; thus, “Kamp Kouple,” which is what’s emblazoned on Mr. and Mrs. DeGroot’s t-shirts, is clearly code for “Nondescript airport hotel where we rented all the rooms for a week and paid the staff extra to look the other way while we engage in random ‘kouplings.'”

While I have too much dignity to offer “Kamp Kouple” t-shirts, thanks to the amazing graphics skills of faithful reader mon-ma-tron, you’ll be able to celebrate this year’s hottest pop culture phenomenon in garment form in short order:

I’ll make these shirts on the CafePress store when I return to Baltimore next week … but until then, this should whet your ironic-logo appetite!