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Mary Worth, 9/20/18

If you’re ever in Baltimore, I strongly recommend that you drop by the Baltimore Museum of Art (admission is free!) and check out the Cone collection, an amazing assembly of impressionist art that was put together by two sisters over the course of the late 19th and early 20th century, with pieces by Matisse, Picasso, Cézanne, Gauguin, and other heavy hitters. The sisters only left their collection to the museum upon their death, and while they were alive much of it was just hanging on the walls of the relatively modest Baltimore apartment they shared. There’s a computer reconstruction at the museum, and you can see that every surface was just covered with these masterpieces, even in the bathroom; they were probably what would be diagnosed today as hoarders, who just happened to have the eye and wherewithal to hoard incredible art.

Now, we’re only seeing a pretty small portion of Mr. Wynter’s apartment here, and things aren’t at quite the density of the Cone sisters’ home, but just the fact the even on this little stretch of wall we have not one but two pictures of Bella sporting a bowtie to match her owner makes me hope that each step deeper into his condo unit is leading Mary into a disorienting spiral of omnipresent Bellas. Local lech Charley plastered his walls with “art of a kind … I suppose” but that perversion will be nothing compared to the bug-eyed dead dog nightmare that is Wynterhaven.

Mark Trail, 9/18/18

Everything that’s actually relevant to the plot in today’s strip will presumably be spelled out shortly, which is good because I intend to spend the rest of the day not thinking about that at all but instead imagining Rusty playing with “Snap-N-Rap,” which I assume is an app you use to upload videos of yourself rapping to Snapchat. “My name’s MC Rusty and I’m here to say,” Rusty raps, Mara beatboxing in the background, “I do foolish things and get into trouble and need Mark’s help every day!” The video goes viral, and more importantly contains location data that Snap-N-Rap harvests and shares with its advertising partners and mysterious group of Chinese investors.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/18/19

The thing with Funky Winkerbean is that I honestly have a hard time figuring out its narrative point of view sometimes. You’d think that, when you have a plot where a group of comic book dudes get extremely pumped after coming up with a character called “Atomic Ape” who’s going to be a “Lone Ranger in space” (a real thing that happened in this strip), but then one of those dudes gets very upset when a lady suggests that “Atomic Ape” have a sidekick named “Charger Chip,” the point is that the dude is being dumb for getting upset about it! But, like, also, the standard Funky Winkerbean party line is that Superhero Comic Books Are Good, and the world of superhero comics today is actually full of adult dudes who take their obviously goofy superheroes extremely seriously, and resist any attempts to make them not dark and gritty, especially when those attempts are seen as coming from or catering to women, so who knows! Maybe we’re supposed to be rooting for Mopey Pete here! How dare some woman try to water down the masculine majesty of Atomic Ape, the Lone Ranger of space?

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Gil Thorp, 9/17/18

More often than not Gil Thorp will follow a couple, sometimes interrelated, plots over the course of a sports season, and it looks like we’re getting two football plots this year: whatever the heck’s going on with Tiki Jansen, and some long snapper drama. Special teams are the goofiest part of football, so I’m extremely excited to see them get the spotlight in Gil Thorp this year. It seems that the long snapper is also the best punter, and for those of you who don’t follow football, this is a problem because the punter is the person the long snapper hurls the ball to, in the graceful position demonstrated in panel one. My sincere hope is that this dilemma is solved using cloning, or possibly time travel.

Mary Worth, 9/17/18

“Mr. Wynter, I just wanted to see how you were coping after your tragic loss. I know what it’s like to lose someone dear myself! In my case that someone was my husband, a human being, who some might say is a little more worthy of grief than a mere animal, but I won’t comment on that one way or another. Also, my husband left me a good deal of money after his demise, ensuring my financial stability. Did your dog leave you any money? At any rate, I hope this can of processed salmon is of comfort to you!” [she gently lobs the can of salmon at Mr. Wynter; he fails to catch it and it hits him square in the face]

Family Circus, 9/17/18

I was briefly thinking that at least one of Dolly’s grandmas was dead and only seen in the strip in ghost form. I was wrong, of course — it’s her maternal grandfather I’m thinking of — but wouldn’t it be funny if I was right, and Dolly was beseeching God to keep the heat turned up on her grandmother’s damned soul, in hell? Anyway, long story short, I’m a bad person.

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Pluggers, 9/13/18

Here’s some “behind the scenes” scoop: I was originally going to just do a drive-by “Haw haw pluggers don’t use computers” joke here, but then I thought: you know, in reality, pluggers have been going online for years now, as any visit to Facebook clearly indicates. And so I decided instead to do a deep dive on the rewards program at the Golden Corral, aka the “Good as Gold Club” and God damn if the FAQ isn’t a veritable gold mine of plugger-tastic questions presumably frequently asked by pluggers everywhere, including:

• “Why am I having trouble viewing my email?”
• “My coupon will not print correctly, what should I do?”
• “I do not have a printer, what should I do?” (“SOLUTION: If you cannot access a printer (at home or perhaps a public library), you will need to call ahead and speak with the management at your preferred Golden Corral restaurant to inquire about presenting your coupon via a mobile device” sorry about how much time you have to spend on the phone with pluggers talking about this, Golden Corral managers)
• “I received my birthday coupon, but my spouse did not, what should I do?” (“Most likely, this means that you and your spouse (or family member) both registered in one of our restaurants using the same email address.” HELL YEAH YOU KNOW PLUGGERS AND THEIR SPOUSES SHARE EMAIL ADDRESSES)

Anyway, other than the oblique reference to a “birthday coupon” there’s no actual description on the site of what you get for being a Good as Gold Club member or why you’d want to join. I guess only true pluggers understand the value of selfless loyalty to a family-style chain restaurant brand.

Dennis the Menace, 9/13/18

There’s been what’s to me a fairly noticeable shift in the Dennis the Menace art this week, accompanied by a change in signature from this:

To a more legible “S. Ketcham.” According to Wikipedia, “Hank Ketcham retired from the comic strip in 1994, turning over production of the strip to his assistants Ron Ferdinand and Marcus Hamilton. They continued it as a ‘zombie strip’ after Ketcham’s death in 2001, where the two, and since 2010, Scott Ketcham, continue the strip.” I guess the previous signature is a “Hamilton,” and even though Scott (Hank’s son) has been involved for eight years now, I assume he’s now … drawing it? Or something? I can’t find any other news about this online at the moment. Anyway, I doubt that this personnel change is going to lead to big changes like adding a new character to the strip, because you don’t run a cartoon for nearly 70 years because people like change, but just look at how horrified Alice is by the very thought of it! I’m not sure if her main worry is having another menacing offspring, or the process of childbirth, or just having sex with Henry again, but she’s definitely cringing in disgust at some combination of the three.

Mary Worth, 9/13/18

Now, I know everyone’s about to attack Toby for being cruel or heartless or whatever, but keep this in mind: you don’t spend the best years of your life married to Ian Cameron without occupying a great deal of your time calculating your loved ones’ remaining lifespan and figuring out the precise length of time one might be expected to mourn them when they finally, blessedly, die.