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Gil Thorp, 3/26/14

The interminable winter Gil Thorp plot about … wardrobe malfunctions? or something? … has blessedly ground to a narratively unsatisfying halt, and now we’re getting the run-up to the spring plot, which, though it appears to be equally brain-dead, at least features one of the irritating teen characters being repeatedly and comically injured. Sadly, panel three here depicts zany and accident-prone baseball star “Lucky” Haskins being doused with root beer after suffering two self-inflicted black eyes — I say “sadly” not because I object to this humiliation (I most certainly do not) but because at first glance it might look like he’s being taken over by the sinister “black oil” virus from the X-Files, which would make for a more interesting plotline by an order of magnitude.

Mary Worth, 3/26/14

[GASP] TOMMY YOU CAN’T GO DOWNTOWN!!! DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT AWAITS YOU THERE? Mary Worth went downtown once, years ago, and barely escaped with her life! How can a vulnerable young addict, still fragile in his recovery, grapple with a hellscape like this and expect to escape with his soul intact?

Panel from Mary Worth, 8/7/05

Stay safely in the suburban zones, Tommy, if you value your life … and your sanity.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 3/26/14

I can’t imagine any USDA inspectors or other allies of the “revenooers” attempting to do their jobs in Hootin’ Holler, so I have to assume that the inhabitants have established their own method of agricultural regulation to make sure they don’t poison each other with the produce of their tiny, hardscrabble farms. While surely we can see the advantages to such a system, there are disadvantages too, as Loweezy is discovering. And anyway, isn’t even a local and voluntary rating system for butter a shadow of the encroaching and sinister government Leviathan? Why don’t the Smifs just fill out an IRS Form 1040 Schedule F (Profit or Loss From Farming) while they’re at it? Looks like some folk are going to have to decamp to an even less accessible holler before this whole place goes to hell.

Apartment 3-G, 3/26/14

For the record, Tommie is taking several days to describe how she tracked down a large animal vet by talking to a minor government official in a small town in Upstate New York, so, you know, don’t worry, because suspense isn’t really going to be involved in this equation.

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Mary Worth, 3/25/14

Oh, hey, what’s going on with Tommy the ex-con’s failing attempts to reintegrate himself into society? Well, today what’s up is that Tommy was sitting on his mom’s bed looking at Internet pornography all day instead of trying to find a job. As hilarious as Tommy’s facial expression in panel two is, I’m mostly fascinated by his feet in panel one. I know in my heart of hearts that he’s just supposed to be wearing white tube socks and there’s a little bit of a shadow falling from his feet onto the sheet, but it really looks to me like he owns white patent leather shoes with dark heels à la Pee-wee Herman and has chosen to wear them while sitting on his mom’s bed and looking at Internet pornography.

B.C., 3/25/14

One of the things that amuses me about my relationship with B.C. is that I’ve read it daily for more than a decade and yet there are multiple named characters that I literally have never been able to tell apart in any way. I mean, I know that these two here are “Clumsy” and “Curls,” because they actually have distinct character designs, but there are also “Peter” and “B.C.” and (I think?) “Thor” and I cannot tell you anything specific about any of them. This may explain why one of those guys died in fiery agony almost a year ago and I never even noticed he was missing.

Hagar the Horrible, 3/25/14

The thing I like about today’s Hagar the Horrible is that invites you to imagine the hours of inept rowing leading up to this exchange. “Okay, they … they still haven’t figured it out,” Hagar thinks. “Should I say something? No, they need to learn for themselves. If they ask, I’ll say something. God, they’re still doing it. Is this the dumbest Viking band in all the North? Was it even worth it to brutally kill my father’s cousin in single combat to win their loyalty? Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything, let them ask, let them ask, let them ask…”

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Apartment 3-G, 3/23/14 (panels)

“Listen, you idiot! I have found a need to fill: as a nurse, at this hospital! In fact, I think I’ll take your job, since it’s so obviously vacant! Sheesh, who do you think I am — Lu Ann?”

Dick Tracy, 3/23/14

When Chester Gould launched Dick Tracy in the 1930’s, newspaper comic strips were a big deal. Like reality TV today, comics had prima-donnas, feuds, alliances, bitter contract disputes, knockoffs, parodies, the whole megillah. One of the best parodies was Al Capp’s Fearless Fosdick comic inside his own L’il Abner. Fosdick “ran” from 1942 through 1977 and spun off comic books, TV shows, endorsements (Wildroot Cream-Oil), jazz compositions, and toys. And here it is again, reparodied in its own source as “J. Straightedge Trustworthy” by in-strip cartoonist Vera Alldid. Wheels within wheels.

Anyway, I hope that Dick Tracy tries to recreate the entire 1930’s comic-strip ecosystem, especially if it makes good on the hint in panel 2 there.

Hi and Lois, 3/23/14

Hi and Lois entertains the Boomer fantasy that their nostalgia represents the apex of culture, but has the wisdom not to push it.

Mary Worth, 3/23/14 (panel)

“Gee whiz, weed and booze are already taken …. I guess it’s meth for me, then!”

Time for me to toddle off into that good night: Josh will be back Monday with your Comments of the Week and brand-new comics snark. Thank you for the wonderful response to the fundraiser, and for a fun week!

— Uncle Lumpy