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Crock, Dennis the Menace, and Blondie, 4/24/07

There are some days — like today, for instance — when the comics make a mockery of the very concept of “family entertainment.” In Crock, one half of the Foreign Legion detachment assigned to Guard Tube #5 blithely recounts a missive from home regarding his cousin’s new child bride, while his troopmate goggles in disgust at the the thought. Does the Legionnaire capable of decency speak out against this horror and risk alienating his only companion in the brutal desert? Or does he remain silent and thus complicit in this crime? Meanwhile, even if we ignore the more unsettling aspects of today’s Dennis the Menace, we should still note Mr. Wilson looks completely blasé, as he’s apparently wearily resigned to the fact that there is no place and no condition in his life that can not be violated by the demon child next door. Similarly, Dagwood only looks on in mute disbelief as his old nemesis the mailman places his feet on his genitals; Blondie certainly didn’t try to stop him, so he figures he doesn’t have the right to say no anymore.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/24/07

For those of you keeping score at home: Rex has been assigned to stall Hugh Avery so that Heather and Pete the chauffeur can get to the big board meeting and pull off whatever coup d’etat they’re going to pull off so as to seize control of Avery International. Meanwhile, today Hugh is ordering his unnamed second to stall the board meeting so that Hugh can get there in time to pull of his coup. In other words, there are currently rival attempts being set in motion to make sure nothing whatsoever happens in any way, shape, or form. And then of course there’s the thrilling cell phone reception subplot. In short, it’s pretty obvious that this week’s Rex Morgan, M.D., is an elaborate physics experiment designed to show that time can in fact be brought to a halt, and perhaps even reversed.

In an attempt to inject some kind of excitement into this thing, I keep meaning to mention that “Rex Morgan” is apparently the name of a gay porn star, which should come as a surprise to no one. Thanks to faithful reader Colleen for pointing this out in the comments. The picture accompanying his Wikipedia article indicates that he’s not as attractive as the good doctor, in my opinion.

Mark Trail, 4/24/07

Having taken care of the insurance fraudsters, Mark has moved onto his next big quest: eliminating labor unrest in the bird world. Subversive elements are fomenting a Red tide among our winged friends, and Mark’s on the case to make sure that the good old-fashioned American values of open labor markets aren’t destroyed by these feathered pinkos and their socialist ideas about “collective bargaining.” With desperate characters like the Avian Wobblies in charge, things could get a little rough, so Andy (who disturbingly appears to be melting in the first panel) has headed out into Lost Forest to fetch the bird Pinkertons to fight on the side of the American way.

Marmaduke, 4/24/07

After years of trying to figure out what object his owner Phil loves most, Marmaduke has settled on the perfect bait. Poor Phil is about thirty seconds away from being killed and eaten, and not necessarily in that order.

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Curtis, 4/21/07

Congrats to Curtis for making the unpopular assertion that looks and surface appearances do matter. Although this strip doesn’t really seem to have any context to speak of (it’s not like Curtis and his dad were talking about the way those “rap” “artists” dress or anything), it’s good to see someone bucking against the PC “it’s what’s on the inside that counts” orthodoxy.

By the way, I’m pretty sure the fact that the elder Wilkins is drinking out of that prissy little teacup means that he’s on the “down low.”

Update: I can’t believe I almost let slip this opportunity to link to faithful reader Maughta’s blog, Judge a Book by its Cover. Basically, what I do to comics, she does to the covers of paperback novels.

Blondie, 4/21/07

I’ve never given a lot of thought to where exactly it is that the Bumsteads live. I guess I’ve always had the idea that it was somewhere suburban and bucolic. But now that I know that nighttime in their neighborhood is ruled by roaming, unfenced packs of hungry, semi-feral dogs, I might have to rethink some of my assumptions.

Mark Trail, 4/21/07

Wait … Mark returned to the inside of his beehive (note the freaky honeycomb wall design) and just left Dan and Sally “in the hands of” the private employees of a private company, who lack the power to detain or arrest? Does he think they’re just going to patiently wait there for their fate after the horror of being found out by the great Mark Trail?

Actually, they probably will. When Mark Trail punches you, you stay punched.

Mary Worth, 4/21/07

A few people have complained that I didn’t mention Mary Worth this week; this is because I found her dinner with Vera to be crushingly boring (yes, I realize that this is how normal people react to any arbitrarily chosen five days of this strip, but still). This opinion was solidified by the fact that Vera revealed essentially nothing, not even in her thought balloons, so I have no idea what exactly Mary’s so excited about in panel three. The only thing the introverted Ms. Shields mentioned that caught Mary’s attention was that she had a nanny as a girl, so I’m assuming that Mary now thinks that she must be rich and plans on murdering her and stealing her hidden gold.

I’m pretty sure that the dude wandering by in the hallway is Wilbur Weston, desperate for strip time, wearing a baseball hat and a fake mustache.

Crankshaft, 4/21/07

I think I might actually like Crankshaft the strip (if not Crankshaft the person) better if he actually did start clubbing people to death. With an iron bludgeon shaped like a human hand. He’d start with with people who talk out of turn during Garden Club. So watch yourself, ladies.

Unrelated Pibgorn update: Brooke McEldowney has started a LiveJournal blog which will keep you posted on the strip’s new home, once it finds one. There’s an interesting discussion of the editorial back and forth with his previous syndicate, and, in executive summary, the new Pibgorn’s gonna be filthy.

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Mark Trail, 4/19/07

“Josh,” people ask me, “Why do you waste your time on Mark Trail? Why do you wade through week after week of stilted dialogue, nonsensical plots, and freakishly enormous animals?” Well, folks, this is why. When Mark Trail starts punching people, there’s a little warm glow you get in your gut that tells you that everything is right in the world. Sure, it’s only happened twice in the last fifteen months (Mark punches Snake, or maybe Jake, I forget; Mark punches a lecherous, petnapping hillbilly; the installment in which Mark knocks over a trio of bumpkins with a booby-trap is awesome but not a punch per se); but the long waits make the payoffs all the sweeter.

Actual, not-made-up quote in the Wikipedia article on Mark Trail: “His assignments inevitably lead him to discover environmental misdeeds, most often solved with a crushing right cross.” This sort of whimsy almost always gets purged from Wikipedia by killjoy editors, but this sentence cannot be removed because it is demonstrably true.

In this strip, Mark even gives his erstwhile buddy the chance to throw the first punch, which he hilariously botches despite the fact that Mark is standing about six inches away from him. SORRY DAN, MARK DOESN’T GET PUNCHED, HE PUNCHES! Mark’s own steely blow proves to be stronger than even professional-grade spirit gum. It is of course laughable that Dan would skulk around a hotel wearing a cheap wig and fake beard when he could have simply purchased hair dye and grown real facial hair (Dan, did you know that if you stop shaving hair will grow right out of your cheeks?). Another wonderful possibility is that Dan did in fact dye his hair and grow a beard but Mark’s fists are so powerful that they are capable of punching the lies and deceit right off of Dan’s face.

B.C., 4/19/07

This may be a sensitive subject, but: it appears that when the syndicate said that B.C. would be taken over by “the Hart family” they meant that it would be taken over by “an elaborate computer program that almost, but not quite, understands humor and jokes.” Yes, it looks like Archie’s in for a little competition … from the B.C. Laugh Generating Unit 4000! THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!

Apartment 3-G, 4/19/07

You know, I make fun of Margo a lot on this blog, but it’s only because of my deep affection for her. She’s being so very, very obviously set up for a fall here — note to Margo: usually if a dude is thinking of marrying you, he’d at least let his immediate family know that you aren’t the hired help — that you can’t help but feel bad for her. Still, the coming rage and subsequent bloody revenge will be exquisite to watch.

Possible things running through the horrified mind of Sam the Assistant in panel three:

• “Margo, no! Didn’t you see Blood Diamond? How many African children must die to keep you in trinkets?”
• “Jesus, all a ring is going to do is draw attention to your hideous claw-hand.”

Also, is Sam actually packing up already-inflated helium balloons to take to their next party? Margo is an awful thrifty party planner.

Family Circus, 4/19/07

Since grown-up Jeffy is now drawing this thing, I don’t think it’s possible to pack more self-loathing into a single panel than he does here. Perhaps he knows that “Moronic Children = Comedy Gold” but is afraid of lawsuits from his siblings, and so is forced to humiliate his four-year-old self repeatedly in newspapers across the world to earn a living.

Judge Parker, 4/19/07

God damn, is Cedric going to off these punks execution-style in a dark alley? BADDEST. BUTLER. EVER.

By the way, I can’t conceive of an even remotely plausible chain of events that would end with me holding two actual punk rockers at gunpoint, but if I found myself in that situation, the temptation to say “Do you feel lucky, punk?” would probably be unbearable.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 4/19/07

OK, “The Halves Of Restaurant Sandwiches Are Sometimes Not Adequately Separated” is officially the pettiest TDIET gripe in the history of humanity. Still, the narration posits that “Howcum” and “Why, oh, why” might actually be different questions, which is a philosophical conundrum that will haunt me for days.