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Popeye, 6/27/07

So it’s been seven months and two plotlines since I’ve deigned to comment on Popeye’s spinach- and/or mescaline-fueled antics. If you’re not following along at home, I’m not going to give you any context for this, because it’s just all the more delightful as a surreal and horrifying standalone vignette. Olive Oyl laughing so hard that her jaw nearly unhinges as she presses the barrel of the gun to her temple, her breast-sporting doppelgänger laughingly urging her to blow her brains out as she slams her bracelets together with a hearty CLANK!, Wimpy ignoring the horrifying drama to demand more food — WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT IN A COMIC? In three panels, Popeye has managed to be more unsettling that the last 18 months of Zippy the Pinhead.

Six Chix, 6/27/07

On a day that didn’t feature a beloved Popeye character cheerfully threatening suicide, this would surely be the funny pages’ most disturbing comic. “Oops, terrible mixup, we meant to order tanning beds but we bought cremators instead! Wondered why they were so big! Ha ha! So, yeah, we burned your wife to death.”

Mark Trail, 6/27/07

Wow, Crooked County Commissioner #1 sure is looking … distinguished, isn’t he? There’s just something about him that says, “Gosh, this handsome and paternal figure would never do anything illicit; rather, he would be an excellent person with whom to negotiate a delicate land deal involving public funds. And he just might be the right person to be the highly paid head of the county’s new airport authority! I wonder why I feel so simultaneously drawn to and respectful towards him now?”

And, in the first panel … he also seems to be super cool as well! I know, mature and distinguished and super cool in one package? I don’t pretend to understand how he does it. All I know is that the new airport’s gonna be the best airport ever!

Marvin, 6/27/07

Perhaps you’re right, Marvin. But we can pass legislation that forces freaks like your mother — with their grotesquely oversized heads tottering atop their reedy, stick-like bodies in a most stomach-turning fashion — to live out their days in closed institutions where normal people can’t see them. And we will, if the letter I’m about to write to my Congressman has anything to say about it.

Slylock Fox, 6/27/07

The heroine seems a little young to play the part, but everything in this cartoon — the meal of canned tuna and toast eaten right out of the can and toaster, respectively; the filthy house, crawling with rodents; and, of course, the dozens of hungry, hungry felines — screams “crazy cat lady.” But you know what? Once you realize the role you’re born to play in this life, I say, why wait?

Mary Worth, 6/27/07

Wait, what? “Yawnfest?” “Beyond boring?” I think somebody needs to turn around. CANNONBALL! CANNONBAAAAAAALLLLL! It’s never a boring party when people are doing the cannonball. CANNONBAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!

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That promised weekend wrap-up metapost will be coming soon, but I thought you might enjoy, you know, some comics commentary or something. I had originally planned to skip over the comics from the days I was away, but of course I had to read them to catch up, and some of them just called to me, so here are the highlights of all the stuff I missed. (Sorry in advance if I step on anyone’s snark, I haven’t had time to go over the weekend’s 1000+ comments in depth…)

They’ll Do It Every Time, 6/22/07

Yeah, I know, this one’s from Friday, but faithful reader anne failed to tell me in advance that “Anne D.” was her! So, enjoy another moment in Curmudgeonly TDIET domination.

Archie, 6/23/07

You know, I don’t think we give the Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000 enough credit. If you gave a mere human the task of of creating a comic strip in which a teenage boy sprays a sexy teenage girl with a hose but which is nevertheless entirely homoerotic in subtext, he or she would invariably stalk off, proclaiming loudly that such a thing is impossible. The AJGLU 3000 merely churns through data and chugs forward implacably to its programmed destination.

Crankshaft, 6/24/07

“Yeah, see, we call them that because sooner or later one of them is going to have a massive myocardial infarction right there in the booth. Ha ha! Hopefully I won’t be on duty when that happens, ’cause they’d probably make me help move the corpse.”

Mary Worth, 6/24/07

This may be the most frankly sexual Mary Worth (and is there a more disturbing four-word sequence in the English language?) in the strip’s long history. Dr. Jeff’s attempts offer up his son has a substitute object of Mary’s affections are quickly quashed. Mary then goes on at great length about her plans to pimp the junior Dr. Corey out to every woman at the party; she’s so excited at the prospect that her ascot has been knocked askew. Dr. Jeff, while obviously proud of his son’s virility and sexual fitness, expresses his concern over the young fellow’s man-whoring. To cap things off, we get the image of a bee pollinating a flower, soon to fly off to another, illustrating Drew’s “love ’em and leave ’em” policy in one of the most discomfort-inducing metaphorical fashions possible (presumably instead of spreading pollen from blossom to blossom, he brings chlamydia instead). Will Vera’s womanly parts be the hive that will trap this bee with its sweet, sweet honey? Stay tuned!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/24/07

The most awesome thing about this Rex Morgan is that every single thing that Hugh is saying is in fact 100 percent demonstrably true, and yet he’s being drawn like a paranoid lunatic drama queen. Panel four, in which he waves his highly trained pointing figure around while he stares goggle-eyed and shouts accusations at nobody in particular, with June rolling her eyes in contempt, is particularly choice. Heather can only defuse the situation by again busting out the “Boo hoo my poor rich husband is dead or possibly floating in the icy North Atlantic” waterworks, which strategy will presumably have diminishing returns.

Gil Thorp, 6/25/07

OH MY GOD CLAMBAKE IS A FRAUD! I’m more than a little embarrassed to admit that I didn’t see this coming at all. I’m looking forward to the shocking revelation that not only was he never in the Negro Leagues, but he’s really just a Greek guy with a good tan!

Sally Forth, 6/25/07

I swear to God, the first time I looked at this, I though Sally’s thought balloon read “I wonder how high I could get before losing my job.”

Ralph, meanwhile, is fooling nobody by poking at a keyboard that isn’t attached to anything. “Easy Ralph … easy … she’ll forget you’re here in a minute … then uncross her ankles … that’s right … any minute now…”

Wizard of Id, 6/25/07

Ha ha! Id is an absolute monarchy and the king’s power isn’t checked by any other institution or law, so he can order the gruesome torture of any of his subjects for the slightest of insults! Ha! The press secretary’s arms have probably both popped out of their sockets, and he’ll die in agony over a series of days! Ah, whimsy.

Gasoline Alley, 6/26/07

Gasoline Alley has been so breathtakingly dull lately, what with plots about sleep apnea and tinnitus by turns, that I haven’t felt the urge to note its continued existence for the last seven months. Today looks promising, however, as it seems to herald the beginning of a new story about how awful it is when black people move into the neighborhood.

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Apartment 3-G, 6/20/07

I’m very excited that Apartment 3-G has torn itself away from Roommate In A Coma to instead explore some queasy-making intrafamilial sexual ick. It’s becoming clear that Nora Mills, who as near as I can tell is supposed to be the widow of Eric’s brother, has clearly got a taste for Mills men that only another Mills man can satisfy. Questions remain: Is Eric’s Katy’s real father? Did Eric choose Margo as a romantic partner because she and Nora essentially look exactly alike? Will Nora and Margo settle this with icy glares and cutting remarks, fists, or shivs? Is that RING RING RING the most exciting panel-to-panel transition in Apartment 3-G history? And, what with Katy’s hair having grown back, is it possible that Margo’s party planning actually cures cancer?

Dick Tracy, 6/20/07

So Dick Tracy is onto a new baffling and anger-inducing storyline, which so far involves:

• A wizened old Baron who’s an ex-Communist spy or something
• His bizarrely leather-faced granddaughter in peril, Gretchen
• Some bewildering and totally made up post-Soviet pretend politics and intrigue
• A CIA headquarters building with a “CIA HEADQUARTERS” sign visible from miles away

None of that has been enough to rouse me to comment. However, I do have to say that I appreciate the artist’s bold choice in the third panel to focus the action squarely on Dick Tracy’s crotch.

Mark Trail, 6/20/07

Man, it’s hard to count all the things wrong with today’s Mark Trail, but let’s start with Mark’s casual posture and shit-eating grin in panel one. It says “I’m all relaxed and ready for some phone sex” and not “I just almost got killed and then spent an hour rooting around inside a duck’s intestines.” Then there’s the idea that a two-seater private plane running into a bird is somehow big enough news to travel all the way back to Lost Forest — presumably everything Mark Trail does or says is front page news in the local paper — and the fact that Mark himself didn’t bother to be the one to relay said drama to his wife. There’s the par-for-the-course emphasis problem in Cherry’s first word balloon — that should be “how are you”, not “how are you” — and someone in the syndicate has clearly bowdlerized “that whore” into “the young lady” in panel two. But mostly I’m just disturbed by Cherry’s melting nightmare of a face. PLEASE MARK DON’T MAKE HER SAD ANYMORE IT’S FREAKING ME OUT.

Mary Worth, 6/20/07

More proof that Mary and Jeff are very much not ever getting it on: if Dr. Corey Junior thought for a single moment that there was the slightest sliver of a chance that he might accidentally walk in on the two of them having sex, you can bet that he’d be knocking, very loudly.

Actually, Mary’s pretty lucky that her not-boyfriend’s son arrived when he did. Dr. Jeff really doesn’t want to go this party, and in panel one he’s pretty clearly sizing up his cane as a potential weapon.

Spider-Man, 6/20/07

In any marriage, there’s a certain amount of give and take, compromises two partners have to make so that they can both get what they want, even — or perhaps especially — when it comes to sex. Clearly the Parkers have just finished off a rousing session of healthy marital relations, and, as is their custom, they left the TV on throughout, due to Peter’s insistence on bitching at and about it at all times.