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Blondie, 9/14/06

Since I try to say something nice on this blog at least once a month, I will say that today’s Blondie actually made me laugh. I too would watch debates on the Sandwich Channel with great interest. Plus, if this exchange actually occurred, it would be the first time in the history of punditry that the construction “shove [something] down my throat” was used correctly. Note to TV talking heads and angry talk radio callers everywhere: something being paid for with tax dollars or featured prominently on television is not being “shoved down your throat.” Please try to keep this rhetorical device in reserve for something that merits it, like, I dunno, mandatory fellatio laws.

Pluggers, 9/14/06

Commentors on yesterday’s thread have already pretty much said everything I would want to say about the ostensible “joke” of this panel, but I do want to address the reason why the Chief Plugger has chosen to not actually depict a plugger in today’s feature. Note that the individual who contributed the idea is known only as “Sapiens.” This presumably is meant to emphasize that he is a member of our species, Homo sapiens (the reason why a plugger would drop off the “Homo” should be fairly obvious). Since the inhabitants of the Pluggers strip are not human beings at all but rather freakish, mutated Beast-Men, it’s probably for the best that no attempt at visual representation was made today.

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B.C., 9/13/06

I can no longer get worked up about the fact that B.C. makes jokes about semi-obscure aspects of golf culture as if everyone’s going to get it, or the fact that said jokes aren’t funny even for those who know what the strip’s referring to. However, I do have to object to this strip being based around not just a lame-ass joke, but the totally incorrect genre of lame-ass joke. The fact that whatshisname and, uh, the other one are standing around the “Show Me” rock means that this ought to be an example of the strip’s patented non-hilarious “Show Me” joke, where the cavedude on the left starts a sentence with “Show me” and the cavedude on the right comes up with a pithy and supposedly witty response. (Actual non-hilarious example from 1990 that I found online: “Show me a girl who curls up with a good novel every night…” “…and I’ll show you a broad who lives in a bookmobile.”) This strip may provide evidence for one of my darker suspicions: that Johnny Hart has dozens of predrawn “Show Me” strips (and, presumably, “You Know” strips and “Wiley’s Dictionary” strips) just waiting for the dialogue to be filled in, and today he was so worked up about rude golf spectators that he just sort of forgot that he was supposed to do a “Show Me” joke.

The saddest part is that this bit could actually have been done as a legitimate “Show Me” strip: “Show me a golf tournament where they shout ‘You the man!’…” “…and I’ll show you a golf tournament that sells tickets to morons, too.” It does some violence to the joke and isn’t very funny, but hey, this is B.C.

Mark Trail, 9/13/06

Boy, when this Mark Trail storyline got started, it seemed like it was going to be about poaching. Three months ago, who could have predicted that it would climax with an angry mob led by a sinister chicken-kicking beekeeper attempting to kill a lovable, confused tame bear who almost killed her owner by french-kissing him while he was driving? How do they come up with these twists and turns for the plot? I bet it helps to be totally insane.

For Better Or For Worse, 9/13/06

Yesterday we learned that when Anthony thinks sexy thoughts about Liz, Liz looks sexy. Today we learn that when Liz thinks sexy thoughts about Anthony, Liz looks sexy. Presumably this imbalance exists because it’s not possible for Anthony to look sexy.

Pluggers, 9/13/06

You’re a plugger when your prescriptions cost more than your groceries, but every time anyone tries to discuss some kind of socialized medicine program, you start ranting about “God damn liberal commie Hillary-care.”

Apartment 3-G, 9/13/06

And that was the day that Tommie decided for sure that she liked girls better.

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Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/06

Is Funky Winkerbean where joy goes to die? It’s not enough to have Mopey McMopester slouching around and complaining because his best friend is finally getting some; apparently, his face needs to be drawn to make it look like he’s been crying more or less constantly for the past three days. My prediction is that our jilted nerd will eventually get together with this gothy Asian chick; but, by the time they get around to doing glum, black-clad things to one another, the other kid and the cheerleader will have broken up. Either that, or Chien and Jessica have some longstanding beef that will sunder this friendship for good. Because nobody can be happy in Funky Winkerbean, ever.

Luann, 9/8/06

Meanwhile, there are changes afoot at a much happier high school, as Gunther and Luann do a half-assed thought-balloon version of the classic dialogue from Double Indemnity. I wonder if what Luann is wondering is, “Jesus, how is it possible for Gunther to have tiny, beady little pupils and no eyeballs to speak of? And what’s the deal with the huge expanse of skin between his eyes and his eyebrows?” That’s what I’m wondering, anyway.

Pluggers, 9/8/06

Q. How many pluggers does it take to reinforce traditional gender roles?

A. All of them.

This strip, which is apparently so retrograde that it the Chief Plugger got tired of waiting for someone to submit it and just whipped it up himself, poses an interesting philosophical question: Is there such a thing as a female plugger? Or is Pluggerdom an all-male brotherhood, with the best that anyone without external genitalia can hope for being the lesser but still honorable title of “plugger’s wife”? While this cartoon seems to imply the latter, remember that the Fox-Woman (or is she a kangaroo? or some kind of dog?) has already been established to have a job that involves wearing a suit, which complicates matters: maybe there are she-pluggers, but this woman is only a plugger-in-law. She’s clearly acclimating real nice, though. Wouldn’t want those soft, feminine hands, good for cleaning dishes and spanking li’l pluggers, all calloused up by rough, strenuous man’s work like changing the light bulbs. Hope you’re don’t mind sitting in the dark till your husband gets back from the pawn shop, lady.

Mary Worth, 9/8/06

You know you’re in trouble when the Woody Allen defense suddenly seems like a good idea.