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Gil Thorp, 2/20/08

Today new Gil Thorp artist Frank Bolle met his first real challenge. I’m not talking about panel one, in which three Lady Mudlark hoopers decide, in the apparent total absence of an opposing team, to play against one another; and I’m not talking about panel two, which depicts Lisa Wyche apparently being dropped from a great height directly onto her wrist. Those are just par for the course over at Gil Thorp headquarters. No, just as Eduardo Barreto’s trial by fire at Judge Parker came when he first grappled with Abbey Spencer’s sexy red mullet, so Bolle must eventually confront Gil’s epic flattop head-on. And … it’s a punt! It’s only your third day, so we’ll let it slide, Frank, but you can’t hide behind word balloons forever.

I’m not sure I approve of Gil’s new face — not angular enough, and a little too much like Robert Mitchum and/or Rock Hudson, as several commentors noted. I do, however, approve of Mimi buttoning up what appears to be one of Gil’s shirts, implying that we’ve just missed some red-hot Coach-Thorp-on-Coach-Thorp action. During which, apparently, they were talking about Lisa Wyche’s wrist injury. Obviously.

Marvin, 2/20/08

So, earlier this week we learned that Marvin’s mom is unable to continue her career as a romance novelist because caring for Marvin has left her unable to even imagine what passion and sexuality might be like. (By the way, did any of you know that Marvin’s mom was supposed to be a writer? I didn’t, and I’ve read the strip every damn day for the last two and a half years.) As a result, she’s given up on the romance genre and instead decided to churn out a series of pregnancy-themed sub-Foxworthyisms called “Belly Laffs.” In an act that profoundly blurs the line between narrative structure and narrative content, the Marvin strip itself will similarly follow her down the road towards an easy paycheck; in the first entry in the series, the strip boldly proclaims its intention to phone it in by showcasing not one but two panels consisting a pregnant woman from the neck down and nothing else.

By the way, anyone who’s see Marvin in action knows that Jenny drank while pregnant, and heavily.

Dennis the Menace, 2/20/08

I know it’s one of my jokes that Dennis isn’t very menacing these days, but at least once a week I goggle at his completely nonthreatening antics — he pushes “the best things in life are free” treacle! he offers seminars on Polynesian sociolinguistics! he launches public health campaigns! — and I think, “OK, that’s it. He absolutely, positively, can not get any less menacing than this.” Then, of course, came the Star Wars cosplay.

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Hi and Lois and Shoe, 2/18/08

On the day on which we officially celebrate the birth of George Washington, and our many car dealers celebrate other, lesser, presidents, two comics have decided to honor America’s 43 chief executives by highlighting what they do best: running up huge deficits that scar our children emotionally. (Yes, I know, they have help from Congress on this, but Congress doesn’t have a holiday — a fairly puzzling development, when you think about the fact that Congress is in charge of voting holidays into existence.) Ditto Flagston has been rendered sleepless with terror in the face of the huge spending spree going on that places him and the rest of his cohort billions of dollars into debt before they even reach voting age; meanwhile, young Skyler Fishhawk is merely prematurely cynical when confronted with the abdication of governmental responsibility. Which outcome is more troubling?

Ziggy, 2/18/08

From day to day, Ziggy panels end up at various and seemingly random locations on a sliding scale of realism. On some days, we’re confronted with scenarios that might almost occur in real life, as Ziggy bickers with surly diner chefs or admonishes his pets; others seem more symbolic and dream-like, with our pantsless eponymous hero demanding self-aware automatons or confronting philosophical vending machines. Today’s installment is particularly trippy: are we to understand that the aphorism hanging over our bald, dwarfish protagonist is spray-painted on the blank expanse of wall that he’s standing in front of? Or is it something spoken aloud, but not contained in a word balloon because it’s the booming voice of our omnipresent creator? The stark shadow trailing behind Ziggy’s feet hints at the latter, as it would seem to indicate that he’s facing into some sort of blinding divine radiance. It’s kind of sad, but at the same time kind of unsurprising, that Ziggy’s God would speak in bland cliches.

Non Sequitur, 2/18/08

Non Sequitur no doubt prides itself on being the crankiest and most cynical strip around by an order of magnitude, so it’s kind of sad that today’s entry could be reworked without too much effort into a Pluggers installment.

Marvin, 2/18/08

Marvin takes a moment away from its cavalcade of hilarious ass jokes to remind you that having a child will destroy your sex life. Ha ha, so hilarious! I like that dad is holding a mug labelled “DAD”, as if to emphasize that he’s made the transition from vibrant, sexual being to exhausted, zombie-like baby minder. I’d say the heavy-lidded look of suicidal depression on the characters’ faces is another nice touch, but that’s pretty much what everyone in Marvin looks like all the time.

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Blondie, 2/15/08

I suppose by “old college sweatshirt” Dagwood means “sweatshirt I wore when I was in college,” but when I think “college sweatshirt” I would visualize a sweatshirt that has, you know, a college’s logo or mascot on it, or at least its name. Then again, Dagwood went to college during the Harding Administration, when there were probably only about ten or twelve active universities in the United States, so maybe the colors were enough. Back then, the mere sight of a blue and black garment let you know that you were in the presence of a graduate of Dagwood’s esteemed alma mater. I’m sure he has many fond memories of rooting on The Stripes on the base-ball field.

Gil Thorp, 2/15/08

You might recall that after the famed self-clubbing incident of early 2007, Tyler was banished to intensive psychiatric treatment. Obviously it worked like gangbusters. He’s gone all season without bludgeoning himself; and, what’s more, thanks to his new self-knowledge, he’s gained an almost uncanny insight into how the human psyche works. It’s almost as if he’s able to project himself out of his spit-curled head and into Andrew Gregory’s slightly longer spit-curled head. Gil and Kaz will be thankful for his help in this case, obviously, but may grow increasingly nervous about just what kind of mind-reading monster they’ve created.

Lockhorns, 2/15/08

The Lockhorns schtick is generally not difficult to wrap one’s head around — they hate each other, you see — so the occasional panel composed of complete nonsense is all the more surprising. Who exactly is Leroy playing chess against? Why are all the pieces the same color? Why does Loretta’s “sleepy eyes” face look exactly like her “black eyes from getting in a car wreck” face? And how does it all fit in with their endless attempts to destroy one another, as everything inevitably does?

Mark Trail, 2/15/08

This may be the greatest ever Mark Trail that doesn’t actually feature Mark punching anybody. At last, we get to see a bear dish out the punishment and hostility, though alas some kind of syndicate rule seems to forbid the depiction of the Neanderthal henchman being eviscerated, so we instead need to settle for the sight of him fleeing in terror unrealistically quickly. I do like the fact that the widow Malone seems to merely stand around arching her eyebrows sexily while her muscle is nearly mauled. “Sorry, the bullets in this rifle are only for the elimination of one Mark Trail, not for some great furry beast. Perhaps you should have made use of your own weapon rather than casting it aside and screaming ‘AHHHH..’, you bearded cretin!”

Marvin, 2/15/08

OK, Marvin, that’s … that’s enough with the ass jokes. For serious now.