Post Content

Hi and Lois, 12/7/07

I’m the sort of guy who always looks on the bright side of things. Take, for instance, the bursting of the housing bubble in the United States. Sure, it’s causing a lot of problems for anyone trying to sell their house, as well as those employed in the housing and construction industries — and the associated implosion of the subprime lending market is probably going to destroy the world economy and have us eating old turnips and beans out of a can by 2009 — but, thanks to the recent (in legacy comic strip terms) move to have Lois of Hi and Lois get a job as a realtor, it adds a nice occasional note of contemporary desperation to this otherwise bland and hoary feature. Sure, today it’s gimmicks like apple pie and cash incentives, but surely it won’t be long before Lois has to choose: either she offers her lovely fortysomething body as a “sweetener” to close the deal on an exurban four-bedroom, or she has to decide which of the twins gets to go to college.

Mark Trail, 12/7/07

Hmm, Mark seems to have decided to challenge Rex Morgan for the coveted Dick of the Month Award. He’s finally getting around to finding out whether or not Bull Malone has any surviving kin — not because he gives a rat’s ass about how bereft they are over having just lost a handsome and successful loved one, who, for the record Johnny Malotte obviously killed — but because he’s trying he’s trying to find some other poor sap on whom to hang this cold-blooded murder. Obviously Andy was brought along for his expertise in evidence tampering.

Mark is allowed in Johnny’s holding cell because of the sacred bond of Outdoorsman Advocate-client confidentiality. Mrs. Johnny is there because the schedule for spawning more raven-haired Malotte offspring cannot be altered by any mere legal proceeding. I note also that Johnny has been allowed to keep his suspenders in the clink; perhaps the local authorities hope that he’ll save them the expense of a trial by hanging himself with them.

Mary Worth and Marmaduke, 12/7/07

Good Lord, could Mary get any smugger? Even her fantasies are thick with loathsome self-regard, as she imagines Chester positively vibrating with delight at the sight of the largest, cheapest bag of dog food she could find at the discount supermarket. On the other hand, at least ACME dog food is probably just bland and lacking in nutrients, as opposed to the actively disgusting BARFOO food that Marmaduke’s owner is feeding him. Of course, Mary claims to actually like Chester, whereas I have to imagine that Marmaduke’s owner’s attitude towards his enormous, destructive pet is a toxic mix of hatred and terror.

Post Content

Blondie, 12/4/07

Ha ha! Dagwood got distracted by a giant weiner!

No, really. He did. That’s how they spell it on the damn weiner, too.

Curtis, 12/4/07

I haven’t read Cosby’s book, but I share the opinion of copy editing guru Bill Walsh that its title really, really needs a comma between “on” and “people”.

Mark Trail, 12/4/07

Hmm … motive … opportunity … bullet came from his rifle … has anyone considered the possibility that Johnny is, you know, actually guilty? HE HAS A MUSTACHE, PEOPLE! DO I HAVE TO DRAW YOU A DIAGRAM?

Marmaduke, 12/4/07

Marmaduke’s owners are about to find themselves ankle-deep in urine.

For Better Or For Worse, 12/4/07

NNNGGHGGNGNGNNNGGGGH

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 12/2/07

“I worked on my paintings there! And that’s the window where I watched the moon!! And this is the room where I spent thirty-seven interminable weeks taking orders from what may have been the ghost of a prominent late 19th century American artist, but was probably just a figment of my oxygen-starved brain! Ha ha ha! Oh, did I forget to tell you about that, what with my conveniently selective amnesia and all?” Seriously, are we just going to pretend that the whole Ghost Ryder thing JUST NEVER HAPPENED? ARE WE? Because … because actually that would be pretty great. I really hated that whole storyline while it was happening, and the last thing I want to do is watch it get rehashed by these two morons.

Meanwhile, at the tavern across town: “Yes, but we could make it more fun, Gary! I’ve just heard about this great new thing all the young people are doing! It’s called ‘sex’!”

Blondie, 12/2/07

Yes, it looks like Dagwood and Blondie are friends with … the Glamrockers? All of them? From the entire history of glam rock? What about the ones like David Bowie, who eventually moved on to other aesthetics? Does this have anything to do with the Glambaster account?

I think the key to this whole puzzle is the middle panel of the bottom row, in which Dagwood busts out some old-school breakdance moves to celebrate the fact that he doesn’t have to go sit on the Glamrockers’ couch and watch Velvet Goldmine yet again. Obviously by the late ’70s or early ’80s Dagwood had come to believe that the whole glam rock craze was worn out and too studied by half, and found refuge in the new raw and frentic styles arising from the streets of the South Bronx.

Mark Trail, 12/2/07

Normally Mark Trail’s Sunday strips exist in a world wholly separate from the daily plots, but I can’t help but wonder if today’s lavishly illustrated paean to ritualized combat is meant to serve as a sad counterpoint to the deadly conclusion to the battle for territory between Johnny Malotte and Bull Malone. Why can’t humans take a cue from our animal friends, who know how far is too far? Why couldn’t Johnny and Bull simply have forced each other to smell their knuckles by turns until one of them had enough and withdrew instead of resorting to gunplay?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/2/07

If there’s one constant in the world of Rex Morgan, M.D., it’s that Rex is kind of a dick. Thus, I’m actually kind of surprised that Rex didn’t take the opportunity to correct Mrs. Jail Escapee’s reference to Niki as Rex’s “son.” “I’m sorry, ma’am, maybe it’s because you’re a lowlife yourself, but it should be pretty obvious to anyone with any degree of class that this little street punk obviously did not grow up in the sort of upper middle class home that my doctor’s salary could provide. That explains why he constantly disappoints me, anyway.” Of course, he’s still a dick enough to have underdosed Mr. Escapee on painkillers before cutting his arm open. With Rex, being a dick always comes first, even if it means that he might get shot in the face. That’s just how he rolls.