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Crock, 10/10/09

Oh, hi Crock! Thanks for stopping by to help serve as a cautionary example in my “how not to tell a joke” clinic! Here are some quick pointers:

• “One end of a phone conversation” jokes are tricky! You have to structure it such that it seems kind of natural, but the reader still gets all the information they need to piece together what’s going on. In fact, how you parcel out that information, revealing unexpected tidbits in interesting ways, is often at the heart of the sequence’s humor! Having the one person whose dialogue you can read or hear simply repeat back what the hidden interlocutor has just said sort of kills the magic.
• However, once you’ve established that we the readers can’t hear the person at other end of the phone conversation, and thus the person we can see will be supplying the dialogue for both participants, don’t change up the rules by supplying jaggedy word balloons out of the telephone’s earpiece. It’s confusing.
• Fat people tend to be spherical or oblong, rather than linear.
• A comic that consists of three panels of some dude talking on a phone against a grey background is not particularly interesting visually.

But hey, at least your punchline didn’t make light of torture or slavery!

Mary Worth, 10/10/09

“Of course, when I say ‘right behind,’ you have to keep in mind that the Earth is a sphere, and thus any seemingly straight line will, if you follow it long enough, simply bring you back to your starting point. In that sense, I’m roughly 25,000 miles behind you, which, on the vast scale of the entire universe, is barely any distance at all. I do concede, however, that by the mundane terms in which we usually view our day-to-day existence, I could more accurately be said to be ‘right in front’ of you. But our relationship is much more elevated than that, isn’t it, Jeff?”

Spider-Man, 10/10/09

Ha ha, we all think that the Sandman has mended his ways, but … the monster is forcing his innocent daughter to watch Jay Leno! Does this madman have no decency?

Marvin, 10/10/09

This week-long plot about the fact that it smells bad when you poop in your pants has climaxed with Marvin being punched in the face, and thus I take back anything bad I may have said about it.

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Crankshaft, 10/9/09

This week’s Crankshaft has involved the angry, befuddled members of this investment group talking themselves into selling their stock at the bottom of the market. Jeff’s sole contribution has been to compulsively offer up terrible, Crankshaft-style puns, all the while wearing the look of anxious self-loathing you see in panel two. It’s as if he’s actually been possessed by his father-in-law, which scenario does have the benefit of probably meaning that Crankshaft is dead.

Mary Worth, 10/9/09

There’s been a lot of unsettling imagery in Mary Worth over the years, but I’m not sure anything in this feature has creeped me out as much as what appears to be the weird afterimage of Mary’s face at the far right of panel two here. Is this a mirror in which her reflection has become detached from her corporal form, indicating that her soul is no longer firmly associated with her body? Or are Mary and Dr. Jeff passing through the section of the hospital where all of Mary’s clones float in enormous brine-filled tanks, just waiting for the day when she needs to harvest their organs to keep her alive?

Family Circus, 10/9/09

At long last, one of the Family Circus pets is depicted doing something useful!

Funky Winkerbean, 10/9/09

In this strip? Good luck with that.

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Family Circus, 10/8/09

If you’re like me (which is to say the sort of person who Thinks Too Much About Things, and is a little OCD), your first response upon seeing the numbers in today’s Family Circus was to whip out the old calculator, Billy-style, and see what kind of timeframe we’re talking about. 4,206 days is 11 years and 191 days! And one of the reasons I was curious about this figure is that I’m never entirely clear on how old any of the Keane Kids are supposed to be. It’s hard to tell, given their gnomish stature and obvious cognitive deficits, but, assuming that kids are still getting their license at 16 like they traditionally have, today’s numbers put Billy at four and a half years old, which struck me as wildly off, considering he’s supposed to be the oldest of four, and he and his little sister both go to school. Then I realized that there was a sure-fire way to determine Billy’s canonical age: the “drawn by Billy” panels, which, after a bit of searching through my archives, yielded up the crucial bit of data: Billy is 7, and so appears to be proclaiming that he won’t be getting his driver’s license until he’s 18 or maybe even 19! I feel bitter for him making me think about this as much as I have, but at least I get to point out that he either cheerfully expects to repeatedly fail his drivers test, or is incapable of doing math, even with a calculator.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/8/09

Speaking of things that irritate me all out of proportion to their actual transgressions, why does Barney Google and Snuffy Smith think we need a title card informing us that we’re going “shoppin’ wif th’ Tuttles”? Do they think that we’ll be dangerously disoriented by seeing the strip’s trademarked dialectical banter thrown about by a pair of risible hillbilly stereotypes who aren’t part of the strip’s core cast? Please, give us some credit. Most readers will see vaguely old-timey rustics crackin’ wise and droppin’ Gs from the ends of gerunds, smile wanly, and move on with their lives without troubling themselves to place the narrative in some larger context; Snuffy Smith devotees, meanwhile, will immediately recognize Hootin’ Holler’s sole pastor, and will be pleased to see that he remains a money-grubbing fraud.

Mary Worth, 10/8/09

Good lord, in the second panel, Dr. Jeff looks less like a father rushing to his daughter’s side to comfort her in her time of need and more like the leader of an angry vigilante mob, or perhaps like a majestic but enraged lowland gorilla. It’s almost as if he’s hoping that he’ll spot a heroin dealer or user on his drive to the hospital and have the opportunity run them down with his car. I was wondering why he was so worked up, but then remembered that Scott is, of course, the son of Dr. Jeff’s one true love. I can’t wait to see the bloody revenge he wreaks on Santa Royale’s comically dressed underworld!

Marvin, 10/8/09

Ah ha, I finally figured out what this week-long feces-plot is really getting at: it’s Marvin’s origin story! “And from that day on, the world knew him as … THE PANTS-SHITTER!”

Apartment 3-G, 10/8/09

Isn’t Margo’s dad supposed to be some rich businessman? Shouldn’t he be able to afford enough Just For Men to dye the hair on the sides of his head as well?