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Funky Winkerbean, 2/3/11

In linguistic matters, I am a firm descriptivist rather than a prescriptivist. I believe that many grammatical rules waved about by pedants are poppycock based on Victorian-era grammarians who wanted to make English more like Latin. I also know that all languages slowly change in both grammar and vocabulary — if this weren’t so, we’d all be talking like Shakespeare, or we’d be able to read Beowulf in the original — and fighting against such change is pointless. Still, there are certain neologisms that set me off, and one of them is “quality” used as a synonym for “good.” My old roommate had this same reaction when people used “luck” to mean “good luck,” which I found hilariously overwrought, and I recognize that this is essentially the same linguistic phenomenon, and yet here I am, wanting to strangle Les, even more so than usual. I guess I just associate this use of “quality” with soulless corporate prose, and assumed that as an Important Writer Person Les would reject it with great smugness. I mean, there’s a gas station near where I live that has a huge sign that reads “QUALITY IS NOT AN OPTION — EXPECT IT,” which never fails to make me laugh, and I guess I’m discovering that my standards for Les are a little higher.

In other news, grad school-era Les was some kind of leering, sideburned megalomaniac, and it’s actually rather shocking that Ronnie bothered to seek him out.

Crock, 2/3/11

Since I relentlessly slam on Crock for being unfunny and terribly drawn, I feel obliged to admit that today’s installment actually made me laugh. I kind of love everything about it, from Preppie’s horrified nose-wobbling to the ugly dog’s smug post-obscene-gesture smirk in the final panel. I’m always fascinated by the fact that taboo words or gestures that cannot be depicted in mass media can be described or otherwise conveyed such that the reader knows exactly what’s been censored, like when only the vowels of swear words are blanked out on the radio. Probably the strip would be wholly incapable of depicting a dog giving “the paw” in a way that makes any kind of visual sense, but today at least that weakness is turned into a strength.

Judge Parker, 2/3/11

I dearly hope that our hitherto unseen sexy home-wrecking publicist is at the door, mangled, broken, still wearing her hospital gown, and trailing an IV behind her; she’s come to aggressively mate with a married author, as stipulated in Cheatham House’s standard contract. It would also be funny if that knocking were actually being produced by a woodpecker — a giant, sexy woodpecker.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/3/11

Berna, you don’t know the half of it! Look at those stitches across the top of his head — it looks like Dex finally got that brain surgery he always wanted!

B.C., 2/3/11

“Also, describe in graphic detail how his chitinous exoskeleton will shatter the moment the needle hits it!”

Panel from Mary Worth, 2/3/11

I used to love the Internet as well, but with this vision of Internet-apology swimming before me, all untrimmed fingernails and wobbly combed-over hair, I think I’ll destroy all electronic equipment in my house forever. Well played, Mary Worth!

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Marmaduke, 2/2/11

You know, there are some jokes that I feel like I do to death a bit on my blog, and I begin to think, “Oh, I’m really blowing what I see in this comic way out of proportion.” Among those jokes are my two main Marmaduke tropes: that Marmaduke is a flesh-eating hell-demon, and that his owner is Adolf Hitler. But then I see a panel like this and I feel entirely justified. I mean, look at the guy in the Lost and Found window! Does he look like someone mildly put out because a dog has somehow wandered into his workspace and the dog’s owner is making a little joke? No, he’s quavering in abject terror. The sweat, the grimace of pure panic — that’s how someone looks when confronted with a terrifying, slavering monster who’s stashed a dozen eviscerated corpses that it’s “found” all over the furniture, and is gazing with big-eyed affection at history’s most notorious mass murderer.

Ziggy, 2/2/11

Ha ha, that J.K. Rowling, what a money-grubber, am I right? Not like Ziggy, a franchise that’s all about artistic dignity, and that will wrap itself up with grace once Ziggy kills Voldemort or whatever. Boy, somebody’s bitter about something, I tell you what.

Mary Worth, 2/2/11

Oh my God, Dawn is addicted to the Internet! This is what happens when you let vicious technology pusher Jeff Corey interact with your daughters. Only a mature, strong-willed man can grapple with the info-beast that is the Internet and expect to come out a whole person.

Crock, 2/2/11

Is this … is this about porn? The soldier from the fort wants to check out porn, but is wearing a bag over his head because he’s embarrassed, and also the porn is already checked out? It’s interesting to discover that my impulse to force comics into making some kind of sense is more powerful than my preference to not under any circumstances think about the characters from Crock as sexual beings.

Family Circus, 2/2/11

“Mommy also told me I’m not a groundhog, so that’s got me bummed out.”

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Judge Parker, 1/31/11

Oh my God, you guys, Judge Parker, I can’t believe I’ve been so slack in keeping you up to date on what’s happening in Judge Parker! One of this strip’s less charming M.O.s goes something like this: first it introduces a sexually attractive woman, then it makes her evil, then it destroys her, then everyone is smug about it. Apparently this is getting a bit dull, because in this latest storyline this sequence has played out entirely off-panel, as we heard a whole lot about the sexy publicity lady who was going to make Judge Emeritus Parker’s unreadable book a best-seller and also seduce him, then heard that she had been hit by a bus. And all this without us ever laying eyes on her and learning whether her breasts were ludicrously large or just very big!

Anyway, while we might not get to see our evil temptress, we will see all the rich people who rule the strip being smug about her downfall, because that is the Judge Parker version of the money shot. Look at Sam talking smugly on the phone in his hotel room! Look at Abbey trying to display a shred of human decency, but physically unable to suppress a smirk at a harlot getting her comeuppance! Aaah, that’s the stuff.

Mary Worth, 1/31/11

Say what you will about Mary Worth, but at least you can’t accuse it of presenting us with sexually attractive characters of either gender. Today’s weird diptych is a case in point. In both panels, the lavender clad ladies on the right are particularly mush-faced and deformed looking, while the orange-shirted gentlemen on the left look marginally more appealing, or at least like non-mutant humans. Thematically, though, the panels are mirror images: Dr. Jeff is making a final push to get Mary into the e-book age, while Wilbur seethes inwardly as his daughter flees the dinner table to eat in her room so she can play Angry Birds on her iPhone in peace. Look at how tightly Wilbur is squeezing his eyes shut! Is he imagining a world where Dawn loves him, and is eager to talk to him about her hopes and dreams as they share the orange spheroids he’s so lovingly prepared?

Beetle Bailey, 1/31/11

You might find it baffling that Beetle would consider a joke-telling robot an aid to America’s combat operations, but keep in mind that he’s been in the army over the course of five wars and hasn’t seen combat once, so his ideas of what would “help the war effort” might be a bit off. Also, you might find it strange that “Two young ladies met two guys” could be considered a “joke,” but remember that this is Beetle Bailey, which isn’t funny ever.

Funky Winkerbean, 1/31/11

Oh, yes, let’s introduce some other seemingly normal lady who wants to have sex with Les, that won’t be gross and distasteful at all.

Marmaduke, 1/31/11

“I think someone wants you to dig your own grave.”