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.

Post Content

Slylock Fox, 10/19/09

One of the things I like about Slylock Fox is the wealth of odd details that make it easy and fun to build the sort of counternarratives that are more or less my stock in trade. For instance, this may seem like just another bit of campground petty theft, but think about it for a minute: why, exactly, is this multi-species collection of critters out in the middle of the blasted wilderness with all their money, staying in a series of makeshift tents, not dressed properly for the weather? My guess: they were called out to this desolate spot by charismatic cult leader Reeky Rat, who promised that they would be taken up to the Great Sky City by the emissary of the Heavenly Aeon in a crystal Cloud-Ship, for which they would have to buy a ticket. If Reeky’s nephew Rodney had merely claimed to be collecting fares for the Sky-Journey, Slylock’s fancy ratiocination would be useless, as his mundane logic can tell you nothing about such higher matters.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/19/09

Hey, remember like a kajillion years ago when there was this Rex Morgan storyline where Pete the Chauffeur was supposed to be good, and then he turned out to be bad, because, I don’t know, it moved the plot along? Well, I’m sort of hoping that’s what’s about to happen here, because lord knows this is a plot that I very much want moved along. Tim’s line in the second panel is probably supposed to be a clumsy pass of the “If you were my wife, I’d love you so much that I’d hire ninjas to follow you everywhere! You’d never have a moment out of my control!” variety, but it would be more exciting if it were leading into “Pete ought to keep better track of you … because now he’ll have to pay a hefty ransom if he ever wants to see you alive again! MOO HA HA HA!”

Barring that, maybe it will be the first thing and Becka and Tim will just fall into an adulterous affair and forget all about his demented mother, who will settle into a wacky sitcom-style lifestyle with the golf pro and the punk rocker. “Hey, old man, I know you’re senile, but could you at least remember to light a match after you stink up the bathroom? This trailer isn’t that big!” “Are you ready for your golf lesson?” “I’m hungry! When are you going to feed us?” [CANNED LAUGHTER]

Lockhorns, 10/19/09

Some of the most unsettling Lockhorns installments are those where the title couple’s trademarked ennui-deadened hate is turned outward, rather than at each other. What, exactly, are Leroy and Loretta doing here? Clicking from link to link, noting the lies and falsehoods, both wearing a heavy-lidded expression that shows that they expected no better from this fallen world? That sad thing is that this may be the most romantic Lockhorns ever, if we accept “sharing an activity” as falling loosely into the “romance” category.

Marvin, 10/19/09

Ha ha, Marvin, wait until you find out that Ms. Landers will no longer be permitting you to spend the day sitting in your own putrefying feces! “What, we can’t shit in our pants anymore? Does she think this is Buckingham Palace or something?”