Archive: Marvin

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Slylock Fox, 2/13/17

I can’t remember where I read it now, but there’s a line in a review of Rogue One that I liked, discussing Darth Vader’s appearance. This is the first film where David Prowse didn’t play the body of the character, and the reviewer said that in the new movie Spencer Wilding, the new actor, looked and moved differently, so “he just looked to me like a guy in a Darth Vader costume, which, I suppose, is what he was.” Don’t we all, in essence, play-act the roles in life we aim to inhabit, uncertain of when the moment will come when we finally make them our own? And isn’t this made more difficult when someone else is so strongly associated with the job? It might’ve been the dogs, with nostalgia for their now vanquished nemeses, who explained to the other animals the utility of the postal service after the beasts took over; and, like all the creatures trying to ape the infrastructure of human society, this mailbear is doing the best he can. But it’s his hesitancy, his sense that he’s not really a postal worker, that he’s just a bear wearing an XXL uniform torn off a long-ago-eviscerated H. sapiens letter carrier, that Shady Shrew is exploiting here. Who’s to say that he isn’t in disguise, after all? Who’s to say that they aren’t all going through a vaguely absurd pantomime of their vanquished betters, with their bowler caps and trench coats and magnifying glasses?

Dick Tracy, 2/13/17

Meanwhile, over at Dick Tracy’s heist plot, the Brush, a man with a freakish shock of hair coming down from his forehead and completely covering his face, is about to change out of his landscaper’s uniform and into a security guard’s uniform, two disguises that will definitely let him blend in undetectably and not draw any attention to himself whatsoever.

Dennis the Menace, 2/13/17

I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Mr. Wilson is planning to murder Dennis — he’s old, he’s lived a long life and there isn’t much left to it, prison and the electric chair don’t scare him, etc. — but it’s pretty shocking to see him admit it so openly to his wife.

Marvin, 2/13/17

I spend a lot of time grappling with the horror of Marvin’ endless poop jokes, but it’s only with today’s strip that I feel like I get the rationale behind them: apparently they’re part of some misguided Freudian belief that we’d all be better adjusted if we didn’t have to obey society’s oppressive rules about going to the bathroom in a toilet and just, like, shat whenever, man, you’re not the boss of me and my gastrointestinal tract.

Pluggers, 2/13/17

Pluggers’ dreams of a sex-robot companion became a lot more attainable once they realized that due to their age and general physical decrepitude they had lost interest in sex a long time ago.

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Marvin, 1/25/17

This comic about how Mavin’s dad Jeff is getting lavishly praised for using his well-outfitted kitchen to create palatable food is a little undermined by the fact that the food depicted is one of the most disgusting entrees I’ve ever seen in the comics, and I read Mary Worth daily. “I can’t believe you made this!” exclaims Jeff’s mother-in-law, and it’s true, it’s hard to believe that anyone would present a writhing mass of sheet-white tentacles topped with a viscous blob of ink-black goo to his family and expect them to eat it. “And you didn’t even burn anything!” his father-in-law adds, perhaps unaware that this awful feast absorbs all heat energy without getting any warmer, because it was forged in the infinitely hot bowels of hell.

Anyway, the “punchline” here is that Jeff, a man, has managed to produce an unburnt meal, in contrast with the typical efforts of his wife, Jenny, a woman. As a result, Jeff will take on family cooking duties from now on, since he’s clearly better suited for them will hold this over Jenny in their long-running marital oneupmanship, forever.

Gil Thorp, 1/25/17

Oops, it only took a day to solve the mystery: Aaron Aargard is terribly inconsistent because his mother (?) won’t come see him play, because she has the vapors or something. It’s enough to drive anyone into the welcoming arms of electronic dance music, and maybe drugs!

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Mary Worth, 1/14/17

OH SNAP GUYS THIS IS A METAPHOR! A metaphor for Iris’s current romantic dilemma, where she has to choose between Zak and Wilbur! It might not be obvious at first, but once you look at the details I think you’ll find it’s pretty clear:

  • Zak is a simple grad student without much money, so his activities with Iris will be limited to things like bowling and cheap concerts for local bands. Iris is satisfied by her sexual encounters with Zak so consistently that they’ve almost become routine.
  • Wilbur, meanwhile can afford the go-go world travelling lifestyle that only a lucrative syndicated newspaper columnist career can subsidize, voyaging to exotic Antarctica and Japan on a whim. However, due to Wilbur’s age and constant mayonnaise consumption, his heart could go at any time, meaning that any relationship with him could lack longevity. Zak, by contrast, is healthy and twenty years younger than Iris, and thus unlikely to predecease her.

It seems like a difficult choice! I don’t envy her!

Hi and Lois, 1/14/17

I really appreciate the amount of care that’s been put into the accoutrements of Thirsty’s sloth here. I’m particularly fond of the fact that there are two sock but only one shoe in evidence, that there’s a can of PBR on the floor and pint and shot glasses on the coffee table (no coasters, natch), and that there are multiple books strewn about, since just because you’re a slob doesn’t mean you’re a philistine. But the best for sure is Thirsty’s big smile as he naps on the Flagston’s couch. He hasn’t been this happy in years!

Gil Thorp, 1/14/17

“Aaron, your teammates overheard you talking about taking drugs. This is extremely serious.”

“But what if … I don’t offer you any explanation, and you wait until the end of the week when I reveal the truth in a dramatic fashion at the game against our biggest conference rival?”

“Enh, that’ll work.”

Marvin, 1/14/17

Ha ha! It’s funny because Jeff is happy to let Marvin stew in his own feces, as long as he doesn’t have to smell it!