Post Content

Marvin, 12/16/09

I’m a bit confused as to the relevance of the first panel of today’s Marvin. Roy does not seem to have done anything to get into character as he stomps through the living room; rather than going into a festive “Ho ho ho, you don’t want to end up on my naughty list!”, he merely snaps at his grandson for casually spreading filth all over the house. It’s possible that Marvin is fooled because only the jolly old St. Nick would have the superhuman reserves of love and forgiveness necessary to resist throttling the little monster right there; on the other hand, the real Santa would know that Marvin is being good, for Marvin: instead of just dumping out easy-to-pick-up trash, he could be shitting everywhere.

Crankshaft, 12/16/09

Crankshaft, meanwhile, is doing exactly what you’d think he’d do as Santa: providing unnecessarily convoluted and awkward set-ups for jokes, and terrifying little children until they’re on the brink of tears.

Dennis the Menace, 12/16/09

I do believe that Dennis is getting some of his menace back! The image of an unruly mob of children looting Santa’s workshop is a delightful one, as is the thought of the desperate elves vs. tots battle that would be the logical prelude.

Dick Tracy, 12/16/09

Oh, sneaky long-haired son of the long-haired conductor of long-hair music, this is Dick Tracy! The phrase “If you can stop beating me…” will not compute for anyone. It will just earn you more beatings!

Post Content

Curtis, 11/9/09

This may not be interesting to anybody else (though really, what’s the point of having a blog if you can’t write about things that aren’t interesting to anybody else?), but I was sort of intrigued by Curtis’s father describing The Day After Tomorrow as a “Dennis Quaid movie.” I mean, yes, Quaid got top billing, but the film featured an ensemble cast, and you certainly wouldn’t call it a Dennis Quaid vehicle. It got me wondering whether films with large casts jockeying for screentime aren’t sort of Rorschach tests, with people seeing as most prominent the actor with whom they have the most in common. So, whereas middle-aged dad Greg Wilkins might call the film a Dennis Quaid movie, younger adults might consider it a Jake Gyllenhaal flick, whereas short sixtysomething Brits would identify it as an Ian Holm film. (As a believer in the auteur theory, I’d call it a Roland Emmerich movie myself, and who else is going out on opening day with me to see 2012, the latest from history’s greatest artiste of delightful computer-generated mass destruction? Anyone? Anyone?)

Getting back to the comic, I’m sort of amused by Curtis’s “Um, yeah” in panel three. “Dad, The Day After Tomorrow was a huge Hollywood blockbuster with an enormous marketing budget, so obviously I saw it. I’m the film industry’s perfect consumer! It’s like they grew me in a lab!”

Shoe, 11/9/09

Have you ever noticed that virtually all of Shoe’s distasteful romantic interludes are depicted as occurring in bars? I’m not just talking about the creepy courtship; even the sort of relationship talks that you’d expect to take place at home, or in the car, or in one of the more secluded booths at Pizza Hut, or really just somewhere that provides a little privacy, are instead aired out with Shoe and some interchangeable member of his cast of soul-deadened lady birds bellied up to the same bar where they presumably first set bleary, bloodshot eyes on one another. It leads one to believe each partner has someone or something at home that much be kept in the dark (e.g., children, spouse) or kept secret (e.g., porn collection, spouse) about/from the other. The logical conclusion is that the entire duration of these ephemeral relationships takes place at smoke-filled watering holes, with the drunken lovers hopefully retiring to the backseat of one of their cars to get it on rather than taking up a valuable toilet stall in the men’s room.

Marvin, 11/9/09

In somehow even more distasteful romantic news, today we learn what odor Marvin finds sexually arousing: the unguent one has smeared on one’s nether parts to soothe rashes caused by sitting in one’s own urine or feces for extended periods of time.

Marmaduke, 11/9/09

Hey, lady, don’t try to impose your square heteronormality on Marmaduke! Unfettered by humanity’s hang-ups, he’s free in his polymorphously perverse state to flirt with either the carefully groomed poodle or the big butch terrier, or both, whatever strikes his fancy. And anyway, this being Marmaduke, he’s probably not planning to “flirt with” anyone so much as to “kill and eat” them.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/9/09

Meanwhile, Wally Winkerbean, his life torn apart by a cruel twist of fate and his mind tortured by traumatic brain injury and PTSD, has decided to drink himself to death. Gonna be a fun week!

Post Content

Marvin, 11/1/09

Yes, why are the pleas for intellectual stimulation and emotional connection from Mavin’s little blond friend being met with only feedings, endless feedings? The answer can easily be found in the name of the toddlers’ preschool. Just as a corral is a vast pen where cattle are kept before being sent to the slaughterhouse, so too is the Kiddie Korral primarily a site where babies are held until they’re fat and juicy enough to be blended into high-grade and delicious baby paste. Marvin already seems largely resigned to this fate. But still, there are unsettling questions raised by this scenario. Specifically, are truth-in-labeling laws strong enough to ensure that members of America’s baby-eating community are informed when they buy a jar of baby paste that may contain an awful baby, like Marvin?

Judge Parker, 11/1/09

That Sam Driver is a real renaissance man! Not only is he an unscrupulous defense attorney, but he’ll gladly serve as an unlicensed marriage counselor for wealthy celebrities! Note that much of his advice consists of repeatedly telling Rocky not to ask for a refund on his wife’s seven-digit impulse buy at Spencer Farms.