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Phantom, 4/27/11

I’ll say this for the Phantom: Whatever its questionable history of depictions of Africans decades ago (a little digging will find you some howlers), the current version of the strip makes a reasonable attempt to accurately depict a post-colonial African state. Today’s strips neatly encapsulates the tension between the multiple sources of identity that can compete for the loyalty of citizens of such nations. Most residents of Bangalla probably aren’t more than a generation or two removed from their ancestral villages, where ties of clan and tribe are paramount; yet many of the young have moved to the modern capital of Mawitaan, where they’ve mingled with people from other parts of their country, and have perhaps begun to see themselves more as citizens of Bangalla than anything else. Which I imagine might cause problems for this whole Chatu-wrangling thing. “Wait, you want us to come home and do what now? Uh, yeah, see, we have this nice construction gig thing going here … cool shared apartment down on the lower East side, near some decent Bandar restaurants … why are you guys running a prison anyway? Don’t we pay taxes to the Bangallan government to run a prison system? Oh yeah, that’s right, you don’t participate in the whole monetary economy thing. Well, anyway, I think we’re going to stick around in the city for a while, but thanks for asking! Say hi to Grandpa for us!”

Herb and Jamaal, 4/27/11

Oh, that wacky Herb and Jamaal, unable to bring itself to use such specific terms as “GI Joe” or “soldier”! But this zaniness masks the important issue here: If the information I’m getting from Funky Winkerbean is correct, Herb’s GI Dude will be suffering from PTSD after years left abandoned in that box.

Family Circus, 4/27/11

“Just like all the messages we send to Mommy on Twitter begging her to love us! They never work either.”

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So ends the Fall 2010 Comics Curmudgeon Fundraiser — a sincere “thank you” to everyone for your generosity, patience, or both. It’s never too late to contribute, of course — that’s what the little button on the left is for — but no fund drives for six months or so, promise. Now y’all’ve been so nice, here’s an extra helping of Saturday comic goodness:

Mary Worth, 9/25/10

Mary prunes and preens in smug self-satisfaction, never more menacing than when she’s bent two young lives to her will — in this case, by engineering the world’s most logorrheic second date.

Charterstone used to have a gardener, the vaguely ethnic Carlos Alora, whom we haven’t seen for years: the shaping of all lives is now Mary’s alone, and here we see her greatest achievement. No, not the shapeless lump in her hand — that’s just something to bleach for dinner. It’s on the left, her own precious rose — odorless, bloodless, perfect, and white as the grave.

Gil Thorp, 9/25/10

First among the many charms of Gil Thorp is its fidelity to “sports” themes that bore even those few readers they don’t utterly baffle. For example, the team rosters are dutifully trotted out every season, as though we’re going to clear away the piles of sports memorabilia cluttering our dens to find a pen and paper and write them down. And then there are the sportsy “issues” that define the season — like that thing Coach Tod Andrews saw! Was it Milford’s second-half offense-bogging? Could it have been the exhaustion of senior linebackers Cody Exner and Marcus Tedford? Perhaps the overreliance on “Mr. Excitement”, “The Ghost”, Jamaar Gaddis? Or was it the rookiehood of QB Miles Paris?

Hey, wake up — see what I mean? Nobody cares. At least from a male heterosexual perspective, today’s strip boils down to, “Hey, cute glasses! Not much of an ass. Hmpf, Gil’s faking it again.” Then on to Hägar the Horrible.

Bizarro, 9/25/10

I just stuck this in ’cause I like it.

The Phantom, 9/25/10

On a quest to rescue his beloved Diana, the Phantom infiltrates Rhodia’s feared Gravelines Maximum Security Prison, which sports the world’s most adorable prison logo! Take a look:

That’s where I want to go on my next incarceration! Maybe when the lovebirds reunite they’ll hang out on the beach before they leave? It’s happened before!

Crankshaft, 9/25/10

Just a lame hospital joke, but hey: he had an intestinal blockage that cleared up on its own yesterday and he’s still in the hospital why, exactly? And can’t sleep why? Is son-in-law Jeff still spiking his Metamucil® with wallpaper paste?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/25/10

Oh, we’re deep into the Rex Morgan Problem now, folks — starts out all Rexy with the finger and the latex and the KY and the Whoooooooop!, but morphs into a legal whodunit about records disclosure, segues into a political contest of wills, and here we are at “shady developer.” ZZzzzz … wake me for the gunfire.

And seriously, for somebody whose prostate has become as famous as the other donuts down at the diner, Hizzoner looks awful cheery in panel 3. And look, he’s running for re-election, right? Tell me again why can’t he oppose Jason King’s strip mall now?

OK, look: this is a Saturday post, on a freaking Saturday! Is that worth a couple bucks, or what? I thought so! Thank you!

Whoooooooop!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Beetle Bailey, 9/18/10

This is a joke. I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way; I mean it’s got a setup that establishes our expectations, and a punchline and visual that gently subvert them. Sure, it’s Beetle Bailey and it’s about golf, but it’s professionally executed and there’s no denying it’s a joke. That, and we get to look at General Halftrack’s sweet pimp hat. Nice.

Crankshaft, 9/18/10

This, on the other hand, is Crankshaft. It starts out like a joke, with one of those trademark paid-by-the-word Crankshaft “setups” busting a bowel in panel 1 — maybe bricks are hard to draw? But there’s no twist, no surprise, no little epiphany at the end — just confirmation that Crankshaft’s bitter hostility is no match for his selfishness. And the same damn hat as always.

The Phantom, 9/18/10 (panels)

The Phantom, 7/29/10

Up top, the Phantom shows up dressed like a thug in the the middle of the night to interrogate the homeowner whose phone Diana used to call New York back in July, as we see down below. The terrified Rhodian reports that no way was he shooting at any white woman, and anyway he only used his little BLAM gun, not that great big BOOM one, no sir!

Mary Worth, 9/18/10

Four days listening to Hunky Doc Mike drone on about his dead absentee alcoholic vigilante failure Dad and poor Jenna’s itching to wrap up this “closure” claptrap and get down with some hott “moving on” action! Let’s listen in:

Mike: “I saw a man who wanted justice, and became obsessed with getting it.”
Jenna: “It seems knowing his reasons and weaknesses helped you forgive him. Do you want to take a walk?”

Mike: “He gave me life, but I never really knew him.”
Jenna: “You came through when it mattered! My place or yours? I think I might have a little wine left!”

Mike: “When he reached out to me, I saw what I had missed all those years!”
Jenna: “You helped him find peace! “It’s just down the street, and I’ve got a trapeze!”

Mike: “There was so little time, and so much I needed to say to him.”
Jenna: “You did what you could! Hey, maybe there’s some special thing you’ve always wanted to try but were too embarrassed to ask a girl ….”

Mike: “He taught me the lessons of his life, but died before I could thank him!”
Jenna: “Oh crap, Mary and Jeff just walked in — listen, just do me in the john, OK?”

Hey everybody, I’m sitting in while Josh is on vacation. Use bio@jfruh.com to contact me about any trouble with the site, spam, comment issues, etc. Thanks!

— Uncle Lumpy