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Momma, 9/13/07

OK, Momma, you’ve finally succeeded in convincing me of one of your central theses: that I would not, in fact, want to have Francis as a son. This is not because of the litany of abuse heaped upon him in roughly half of the feature’s strips; rather, it’s because the boy has no filter whatsoever on his sexual ruminations. You might remember that Francis likes to look at Internet porn with his mother in the same room. Today, in panel three, the smart thing to say would have clearly been, “Ah, I’ve also heard nice things about this young woman! Yes, I’d love for you to arrange a date for us.” Then there could be at least a few hot and heavy interludes without Momma’s constant, suffocating interference. Instead, he leapt up into the air and shouted “Woo-hoo! If Freda’s reputation is correct, I’ll soon be having consequence- and commitment-free sex with her, possibly in a kinky fashion!” (or, in bowdlerized Momma-speak, “Yes!! I will! I hear she’s a real swinger!”). Warning to overbearing mothers everywhere: this is what happens when you don’t allow proper boundaries to be established between you and your children. They just say this stuff right in front of you.

Judge Parker, 9/13/07

“Knock it off … I’m not in the mood!” Don’t feel bad, Trudi: this isn’t the first time Sam’s said those very words when faced with boobs like those.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/13/07

Here’s my suggestion for a sponge-bath-based TDIET:

Alf Ragweed’s images of nursing care have been heavily influenced by pornographic movies…

(In his thought balloon: “Hello Mr. Ragweed … I need to clean you up … I hear you’re so dirty … are there any particular parts you want me to focus on? Mmmmm … oh yeah …”)

But when he actually needs a sponge bath in a real hospital, how does it go? Need I tell you, dear reader?

(“All right, turn over, and — AWK-K-K-K! What the hell is this? Honestly, I’m not paid enough to deal with you … do you think wiping your crusty ass is a turn-on for me? … and it’s so small … wait till I tell the other nurses on the floor … etc., etc.”)

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/13/07

“Yes, I expect that’s a reunion Hugh isn’t looking forward to! Also, from panel two on, I’ll be played by Oscar-winner Billy Bob Thornton!”

Mark Trail, 9/13/07

Holy crap, is Homer going to start sitting on the duck eggs himself? O great Lord of Comics, we are not worthy of such joys.

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Dennis the Menace, 8/27/07

It’s not particularly hard to parse the look Alice is giving Dennis in this panel — I’m pretty sure that something along the lines of “Fine, don’t chew, you’ll just be all the more likely to choke to death so we can be free of you” is running through her head. The fact that she’s wearing a black cocktail dress adds to her aura of icy disdain, but it seems kind of out-of-place at a family dinner for just the three of them. Perhaps this is a glimpse into the alternate-reality version of the strip, Dennis, Viscount of Stokington? That would explain the ultra-formal attire: the whole noble family is supping at their seat, Menacing House, with Henry, the 16th Marquess of Forth and Stoke, despairing that his unruly heir will ever be considered cultured enough to follow in his footsteps to Eton and Oxbridge.

Family Circus, 8/27/07

Hooray for the coloring gnomes, who apparently noticed that the caption here makes reference to “leaves … starting to change” and actually colored the leaves in the background accordingly! That doesn’t forgive the obvious and unexplained dollop of red at the end of Billy’s football, however. The ball is too blunt to stab anybody with, so presumably our little towheaded psychopath killed an innocent in some other way, then dipped the football in the spilled blood, hoping to thereby gain totemic power.

Mary Worth, 8/27/07

Great Jesus Christ, do I want to know why Mary was apparently sitting on Dr. Jeff’s lap while he was doing something “tiresome” at the computer? Or why she has that bizarre, fixed smile on her face? Leaving Jeff to go to bed in what appears to be the middle of the afternoon? Please, take us back to Dr. Drew, with his Star Trek-themed three-way fantasies, I’m begging you.

Momma, 8/27/07

I’m assuming that “– you know — life” is code for “the facts of life” which is in turn code for “the basics of human sexuality and reproduction.” Momma’s clearly right to pick her battles, as nobody, least of all us poor readers, would want to see the how her core values on sexuality — that any woman who has sex before marriage, or enjoys it afterwards, is no better than a common harlot — would be received. But maybe a bit of an explanation would have made things better for her son.

Pluggers, 8/27/07

Normally I just snicker immaturely at pluggers from my elevated position as an East Coast cultural elitist, but today’s installment strikes me as quite poignant. As our plugger hero stirs with furrowed brow, he almost seems to be saying a little prayer: Please, Lord, let me poop tonight. Please. I try to be a good person. I think it’s been nearly a week.

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Gil Thorp, 8/22/07

So, well, uh, I guess my hopes that this might be interesting, or make any damn sense at all, have pretty much been dashed at this point. Way to hold up under pressure there, Cliff. “I didn’t do it!” “We followed you!” “Aw, hell.” I am pretty impressed by Gail’s look of unbridled rage there in panel three. You do not want to get on the wrong side of the rock and roll Carole King, I tell you what. I guess the real lesson here is that shady dudes with Fu Manchu mustaches and a record of drug offenses are actually pretty cool guys! They sure wouldn’t leave passive-aggressive notes scattered around; they’d just insult you to your face.

(But it still doesn’t add up! With the money he earned touring, Cliff was able to buy a van! A van!)

Mark Trail, 8/22/07

Meanwhile, smack dab in the middle of the future site of the Lost Forest Hot Topic, Homer the friendly construction worker is about to take a stand to protect some baby ducks from the ravenous jaws of your so-called “progress.” It should come as no surprise that our duck-loving bulldozer operator is clean-shaven, while the stench of evil rising from his coworker is as thick as his no doubt matted beard. Fortunately, Mark Trail will soon be on the scene to explain what he learned from Sam Hill: once the developers finish draining the wetlands, birds won’t want to lay their eggs there anymore, and the problem is solved!

Momma, 8/22/07

The following sentence is one that I never, ever wanted to write, but I suppose in retrospect it was inevitable, so here goes: The frank sexuality in today’s Momma is deeply disturbing to me. It’s already been implied that Francis fancies himself a ladies man, much to Momma’s disgust. Presumably she assumes (no doubt with good reason) that Francis’s inability to hold down gainful employment probably indicates that he’s unable to operate a prophylactic, and that she has dozens of bastard grandchildren all over town. You’d think she’d be a little excited about the prospect: grandkids are usually idée fixe #1 of the Mommas of the world; she’s got none to brag about down at the senior center, other than little Chucky, who hasn’t appeared since his fateful trip to the bar with Francis, when he was presumably traded for beer.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/22/07

I’m not going to touch the political content of today’s TDIET (“Public education: A necessary institution in an equitable society, or an insatiable money pit?”). Instead, I’m going to outline the lottery-themed TDIET I’d like to see:

Governor Honcho calls a press conference to crow when he busts up Vito’s little numbers racket…

(“Step right in, gentlemen! Why not put a bit of scratch on 17 red? Only 35-to-1 odds! You could … aw, cheese it! The fuzz!”)

…but then who d’ya see on TV trying to get you to put a buck on the Big Payoff Lottery Scratch-Off? Do you have to ask? I don’t think so!

(“Million-to-one odds … and you could be that one! Why not cash your Social Security check to buy more? Every dime goes to education! Etc … etc …”)

Apartment 3-G, 8/22/07

OK, now they’re just fucking with us, with the hair.