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The Phantom, 1/16/08

Hooray, I did it! I managed to get through the entire previous incredibly moronic Phantom storyline without mentioning it in this blog once! This one is just getting started, and may turn out to be just as dumb, but I can’t resist today’s installment, in which Diana Walker (aka The Phantom’s Imported Caucasian Bride) is, as our narration box tells us, chatting with her friends about their career choices. (Side note: Hey, narration box, do you think that you don’t need a verb just because you have an exclamation point? Hmmm?) It sure was nice of Diana and her friend the cop to arrange to meet their friend the waitress for lunch while she was working the lunch shift. “It’ll be fun! We’ll talk while you serve us our meal! Maybe we’ll even tip you!” As if that wasn’t bad enough, cop-lady is stealing waitress-lady’s lifelong dream. “That’s the answer! Jungle patrol! Be sure to think of the adventures I’m having out on the frontier the next time an old man yells at you because his coffee’s too hot!”

Funky Winkerbean, 1/16/08

Not being married to a band director, I guess I can’t be expected to truly understand the horror that they go through, but I admit to not seeing the connection between being left home alone as your partner leads a group of teenagers through a forced march through the parking lot while they play an Andrew Lloyd Weber medley and this unappetizing combination of foodstuffs. There are a couple of possible explanations here:

• John’s total inability to cook, which I had blamed on a terminal case of Stereotypical Comic-Strip Maleness, is actually some sort of little-talked-about side effect of marrying a band director. Enormous bowls of M&Ms and six-packs of BEER-brand beer are actually the best he can do for hospitality, considering his condition. Since the other members of his meeting are in the same boat, they can’t complain about it.
• Being a band director’s spouse in Funky Winkerbean is some kind of double-whammy of crushing depression, and so the only thing for it is a tasty combo of alcohol and sugar. In fact, I’m not convinced that the colorful tablets in those bowls are actually M&Ms. I think the band directors are going to make their troubles go away with a cocktail of cheap beer and bootleg prescription pharmaceuticals — the “M&Ms” ruse is just to keep the kids none the wiser.

Judge Parker, 1/16/08

OK, I totally take back what I said earlier about Sam not being a sexual harassment risk. There’s really no good explanation for his pose in the third panel unless he’s about to casually look down and say, “Hey, whaddya know? My pants just came undone! Could you help me with that … partner?”

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The Phantom, 11/4/07

I’m not a big defense policy expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure the US Air Force is not in the business of handing out free jet fuel to random Vietnam War-era aircraft, no matter how friendly the country is whose flag is painted on the tail. Perhaps Bangalla is willing to turn a blind eye “enhanced interrogation techniques” (likely, if the slap-happy antics of the Unknown Commander are any indication) and demands payment in sweet, sweet petroleum products.

The Phantom NEXT! boxes are pretty generally awesome, but few have brought me as much pleasure as today’s. “Avast, swabbies! Be sure ye be wearing yer film badge dosimeter, lest ye suffer from radiation sickness! Ahhhr!”

Zits and The Middletons, 11/4/07

At last, two Sunday comics that aren’t afraid to admit the hard truth about teenagers: that they’re nothing but barely controlled hormone-soaked lust-beasts. Today’s Zits honestly hits a little too close to home for me, as one of my high school’s guidance counselors was a primary subject in my teenage fantasy life, which I’m sure was also true for most of the other boys and several of the girls. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, in the interests of me having coherent conversations about college application essays), I was assigned the other guidance counselor, who was a avuncular fiftysomething dude, and who was very nice but whose naked lower back I was frankly glad to never see unprompted in my mind’s eye.

Today’s Middletons is an instructional example of how the throwaway panels at the beginning of a strip (so named because some newspapers remove them to make layout easier) can really change the tone of a comic. The complete strip today offers a poignant look at that moment when young people are on the cusp of adulthood, beginning to think of grown-up matters while still clinging to childish things. But the version in my paper started with the “Cool clouds” panel, and thus was basically two teenagers talking about girls they want to bang. On the bright side, Baltimore Sun readers were spared the unsettling undertones of the “do you want to see the frog in my pocket” exchange.

Judge Parker, 11/4/07

Speaking of raging hormones, I’m getting pretty tired of every improbably proportioned female in this strip hurling herself at Sam Driver. His wife I can sort of understand (though you think she’d have given up by now), but what Sam’s got that justifies, say, Trudi lunging at him lips-first in the next-to-last panel is beyond me. It’s like he’s doused himself in some chemical that makes him irresistible to women (“reverse alcohol,” in the memorable formulation of Dinosaur Comics) — not because he wants to seduce them, but because he enjoys rejecting and humiliating them. If I want twisted, passive-aggressive psychodrama in a serial strip, I’ll read Mary Worth, thank you very much.

Spider-Man, 11/4/07

Not being evil myself, I wasn’t aware that a lack of sleepiness was one of the benefits of pledging one’s allegiance to the dark side. Think of all the extra sinister plotting — or, alternately, dusting and laundry — you could do with that extra eight hours a day! It does not, however, come as a big surprise to me that Peter Parker would rather snooze than fight evil.

Hi and Lois, 11/4/07

The creators of Hi and Lois do not appear to understand how and by whom municipal tax rates are set.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/8/07

“I can bring home the bacon;
“Fry it up in a pan —
“And never, never, never let you forget
“You’re a total idiot.”

The Phantom, 9/8/07

This plot could go either way: “Ghost-Who-Cleans-up-Neighborhoods” or “Ghost-Who-Defends-Intellectual-Property.” But if I were little Tendai, I’d lay off the illegal downloads for a while. Just sayin’.

Mark Trail, 9/8/07

Here we have almost the entire Mark Trail gradient of good and evil: bald good-hearted Homer Moore, balding conflicted Mr. Thomas, shady sideburned Tom. NEXT: Tom hires ZZ Top and a gang of Hasidic rebbes to beat sense into Homer.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/07

Signs of the End Times: Nobody in this picture is maimed or dying. Everybody’s smiling.

Thanks to everybody who hit the Tip Jar or sent Josh a check this week, and for everybody’s patience with a week-long fundraiser. Judging by my mail and the comments, it looks like it was a big success; I know Josh will be thanking contributors individually once he’s back Sunday evening.

— Uncle Lumpy