Archive: Phantom

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Funky Winkerbean, 1/25/09

I’m having a bit of trouble understanding exactly what the idea is that sassy Montoni’s waitress Rachel is trying to get across in the final two panels. Is it “We cover up our anxiety about the quality of our food by aggressively insisting that you eat it at all and pretend to be enjoying it, even though you’ll probably suffer a massive heart attack about halfway through, because of the grease?”

I am not, however, having a hard time following what’s happening on this date. Apparently, earlier Cayla told Les, in a sultry voice and with hooded eyes, that she “didn’t want to be good anymore.” Naturally, he interpreted this as somehow relating to her diet, so he took her to his artery-busting place of part-time employment. The fact that he thinks he’s impressing her by throwing his weight around at the local fast-food place, where he took an afterschool job not because he needed the money but because he was lonely and wanted to spy on his teenage daughter, tells you everything you need to know the direction in which this date is going.

Phantom, 1/25/09

The current Sunday Phantom storyline has featured Kani, a juvenile delinquent from the mean streets of Mawitaan, being rehabilitated by the Phantom and his cheerful children. Today Kani learns a few lessons that will do him well in the tough, gang-ridden environment where he grew up: that punches with padded gloves will easily best men with guns (this coming from the only superhero I know who carries a pistol), and that when you land a particularly good punch your opponents will remark favorably on your pugilistic skills. Surely if the big purple guy just wanted Kani offed, he could do it more efficiently than this; presumably this is part of some elaborate reality-prank show, where Kani will get gunned down in an alley on his first day back home and then they’ll play a muted-horn wanh wanh WANNNNH.

Slylock Fox, 1/25/09

The main Slylock Fox mystery isn’t particularly interesting to me today (he’s going to eat the fortune? really?) but I am charmed by the puzzle in the strip’s top layer. Presumably, Grandpa has set up this elaborate brain-teaser to make his grandkids feel bad both about their intellectual limitations and about forgetting his birthday. “So you know the birthday cards you get every year with a $20 bill inside? Well, you can forget seeing any more of those. That’s now what I call ‘Grandpa’s bourbon fund.'”

Mark Trail, 1/25/09

Coloring madness during the week (and yes, I do intend to follow up with you nice people who contacted me about it, I swear) can at least be explained by the fact that the Monday-through-Saturday strips are drawn and colored by different people, who don’t necessarily speak to one another. That doesn’t help answer the question of why this Sunday strip features what appear to be pigeons bearing parakeet markings. Presumably next week’s nature lesson will be about wild mushrooms: which are OK to eat and which are OH MY GOD THE COLORS THE COLORS.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/6/09

Oh, Margo! Even when you’re busy snooping and destroying evidence all by yourself, you can’t help but indulge yourself in a little free-form bitchery. And that’s OK; you need to practice to keep yourself in fighting shape. But I question whether anyone wearing that vest/button-shirt combo — you’re one cameo away from being the cover girl for the next issue of Hot Western Schoolmarm Monthly — has a right to impugn the aesthetic choices of others. Admittedly, I’m not sure I’d have wanted something in my living room that was so … aqua, even before I married a woman with impeccable taste in interior design, but the larger problem is that the leather couch doesn’t scream “bachelor” so much as it screams “chair,” what with it being only wide enough for one person to sit on it and all. I know New York apartments are small, but still.

Family Circus, 1/6/09

I was planning on waxing pretentious about how this panel neatly encapsulates American middle class anxieties and explains both why we passed the PATRIOT Act and why we don’t let little kids play outside anymore, but then I realized that I should just relax and enjoy the sight of a couple Keane Kids in a moment of terror, right before they’re mauled by a vicious dog. It’s kind of impressive that they can still dish out the adorable puns even as they panic.

Phantom, 1/6/09

The Phantom plotline just concluded involved a madman attempting to use bats as biological weapons agents, only to eventually become infected with deadly Ebola himself, yet was so boring that I managed to not comment on it at all and could barely remember what it was without going back and checking. Thus, while an optimist might insist any plot that begins with horrible scaly fish-men from the briny sea must be promising, I have my doubts. I am amused by the fact that that these tailèd sea beasts are demurely wearing loincloths, to protect our innocent eyes from their hideous blue mer-penises.

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So ends the Comics Curmudgeon 2008 Fall Fundraiser. A sincere thank you to all the many contributors for your generous donations, and to all our faithful readers for your patience. Ads and fundraisers help keep CC going, but we know it’s not why you’re here. So here’s an extra-large serving of tasty, tasty comics for your Saturday enjoyment!

Mark Trail, 10/4/08

See? See? This is why Little Miss “Daddy Died and Gave Me His Big Ol’ Company” Sue Butler will never break that glass ceiling into the top echelon of rapacious capitalism. You can see it in panel two, where she’s all “Oh, I am in Mortal Danger” and “Oh, I hope some oddly affectless Man of Action with waxy hair hears my anguished cries!” A true Titan of Industry would be thinking, “Hey, this is great! Now we can say we’re draining the wetlands to save the children from gators!”

Oh, and “Go Blue and Orange!”

Gasoline Alley, 10/4/08

Rover’s got potential, though: “Oh, thank Heaven, my benefactor died before he could discover my fraud!” (Let’s not dwell on the fact that if Sultan P. had in fact been trying to install Rover’s invention on a fuel-injected car, he would have discovered the fraud.) But genius inventor or not, I wonder if Rover really has the smarts for the top job — most folks wipe the side of the face on which they’re actually sweating.

Beetle Bailey, 10/4/08

At last, the Beetle Bailey/Marmaduke crossover. This one goes on the fridge!

The Phantom, 10/4/08

Looks like Ghost-Who-Hemmorrhages has a grim mission for Ol’ Doc Poor-but-Noble here. But inquiring minds want to know, what’s Ol’ Doc reading?

Aha! One imagines that entire panel-one bookcase is stuffed with Phantom-related literature like this, this, and this. Probably some correspondence course he’s taking for when he takes over from Stripey in a couple days. NEXT!

Archie, 10/4/08

OMG TEH KIDZ + TEH TECHNOLOGY ROFLMAO!

Archie archivists will note that the child is Leroy, Veronica’s cousin* and, in the comic books and digests, Archie’s tormentor. Of course, the ALGU-3000 knows none of this beyond:

PROCEDURE CHAR_LOC.
Begin.
DISPLAY "Enter location and character.".
ACCEPT Loc.
ACCEPT Char.
PERFORM UNTIL NOT ValidLoc.
EVALUATE TRUE
WHEN Lodge_Mansion DISPLAY "Location is valid."
WHEN Char_Residence DISPLAY "Character residence is valid."
WHEN OTHER DISPLAY "HA HA HA -- O TEH KIDZ!"
END-EVALUATE
END-PERFORM
STOP RUN.

* Update: Not “brother” as originally posted. Thank you, faithful readers!

Sally Forth, 10/4/08

Hey, Sally’s finally ready for her makeover — Let’s help!

  1. Lose the jumper
  2. Hairstyle, sweetie. For the love of God.
  3. [Reader input!]

Apartment 3-G, 10/4/08

So, they’re investigating drug abuse by a dead guy? What’re they gonna do, put him in Hell Jail?

Blondie, 10/4/08

Poor, desperate Blondie’s sexytalk and coy strapslip lure Dagwood into the kitchen, not out of his pyjamas. His bagel-themed pyjamas. I swear she’d have better luck with frickin’ Sam Driver.

Judge Parker, 10/4/08

Well, speak of the devil! Alas, this is all just boring exposition (ha ha!), but lest anyone forget, Abby Spencer is headed to Scottsdale for some damn plot-device horse show. I’m praying her arrival will coincide with writer Woody Wilson’s departure on a long journey, stopping the plot cold and leaving Abby, Heidi, Dixie, and us-y in the strong but supple and surprisingly tender hands of artist Eduardo Barreto. Masterful hands! Maybe a long and fatal journey?

Hey — it’s Broderick Crawford Day! Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy