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Momma, 1/14/11

It’s been a long time since I’ve checked in with Momma’s passive-aggressive, vaguely incestuous stylings, and today’s entry is so delightfully absurd that I hesitate to try “explain” what it might “mean.” Are we to imagine that Francis has stuffed his nice hat so full of clothes that it has ridiculously stretched out? Or that Momma, in her dotage, went all knit-crazy and made a ludicrously oversized hat for her son? Or that Francis, having long ago traded away the precious maternal keepsake for beer or whatever, just tells the first improbable lie that comes into his head, betting that his mother’s senility will cause her to quickly forget exactly what they’re talking about?

Also, this strip reaffirms my firm belief that black and white strips should not be colored in, because that allows me to imagine, based on the vague patterns visible, that Momma has knitted Francis some kind of oversized rasta hat.

Mary Worth, 1/14/11

A quick visit to the Website of the Four Seasons Bora Bora reveals that it is (a) awesome and (b) the equivalent of about $650 a night, so Jill’s guilt over a little light drunken rehearsal-dinner-ruining must have been quite acute. But I’m less interested in what Jill hocked to pay for this craziness (assuming she just didn’t create fake “vouchers” in Photoshop) and more interested in Adrian and Scott’s wildly different reactions. Remember, Scott was the one who suggested a honeymoon at the local Motel 6, while Adrian longed for an exotic voyage; so why is Scott grinning with manic intensity at the thought of sun and fun in the South Pacific, while Adrian is about to vomit in terror?

Curtis, 1/14/11

We’ve finally arrived at the lesson of this year’s Kwanzcaapade in Curtis, which appears to be: there’s nothing we can’t achieve if we work together a species, so long as we can just go back in time and correct all our mistakes.

Gasoline Alley, 1/14/11

With his pleas to his God having been rejected with contempt, Slim has quickly turned to nihilism. “Really, honey, in 100 years we’ll all be dead. All of us, just marching inexorably towards the grave, and nobody will remember we ever existed. Why bother? Why bother doing anything?”

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Mary Worth, 7/29/10

I’m not going to lie to you: the deeper Dr. Mike sinks into misery, the happier I get. Thus I’m nearly ecstatic at the first-panel flashback, in which he mopes sullenly in the rain, having been stood up by his deadbeat dad once again, with only an albino pigeon for company. In panel two we see the present-day man tormented by these visions, and attempting to punch them out of his mind, or at least knock himself out and fall into blessed unconsciousness. Mary, watching over tented fingers, seemed stunned at just how quickly her latest meddle has gotten so awesome.

Momma, 7/29/10

But I don’t want you to think that I wish ill to all inhabitants of the comics pages! For instance, poor Tina is one of the minor characters whose plight I feel most keenly. She’s been exposed to this sort of Oedipal horror for the entire duration of her marriage, but from her crumpled mouth and thousand-mile stare in panel three, I’m thinking that today may be the day when she finally snaps.

Beetle Bailey, 7/29/10

Camp Swampy’s base doctor was a good choice to conduct the terrible medical experiments that the government is secretly carrying out on unwitting human subjects, since he appears to be literally incapable of empathy.

EXCITING CONTEST OPPORTUNITY: You have all probably been wondering “Why is Gil Thorp wasting its time this summer on golf, the most boring sport in existence, without even the fun of Marty Moon being humiliated?” Well, it might have something to do with a little contest being run by the Detroit News, which employs Gil Thorp writer Neal Rubin to write about sports as his day job. Readers vote for a News writer; whoever gets the most votes will get $500 bucks for his or her favorite charity, and one person who voted for the winner will be selected at random to spend some Quality Time with that writer. So obviously you should all vote for Neal, get some cash to Gleaners Community Food Bank, and get in the running to win “a lavish lunch for two with Neal Rubin at one of the area’s best restaurants, or lunch and a round of golf for two with Neal at Plum Hollow Country Club in Southfield.” If you play golf with him, you must dress up as Ben Franklin and keep trying to get him to bet on the game. DO IT! VOTE NOW! (Thanks to faithful reader jvwalt for the tip!)

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Momma, 5/28/10

Reading Momma is always a harrowing experience, but rarely does the strip get into Funky Winkerbean territory and actively discuss, say, suicide. Not content to have Momma simply make awkward conversation with the widow of a man who just killed himself, today’s strip takes us on journey ever deeper into sorrow. At first we are lead to believe that Sadie’s husband killed himself because his failing body left him in constant agony; but then, as Sadie gives Momma an icy glare, we realize the truth: that he took his life because of the failure of her marriage, and that she frankly believes that this was the only reasonably reaction on his part. Fun!

Hagar the Horrible, 5/28/10

Of course, it’s leagues more sophisticated than Hagar the Horrible, which features a dog who really, really has to go to the bathroom. Don’t “relax” your bowels, Snert!

Crankshaft, 5/28/10

A question for northeast Ohioans: in your local dialect, does “wuss” rhyme with “bus”? Follow-up question: Do you smile cheerfully in the wake of repeated assaults on your property, believing them to be the inevitable punishment of a sadistic creator?