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Spider-Man, 9/7/06

When we last checked in with the web-slinger, he had just been knocked unconscious by a sinister butler. Since then, I have refrained from commenting on the various indignities this strip has visited upon its readership. When the murderous manservant drove out to a cliff where he had somehow prearranged a camera set-up to record his snuff film, I stayed silent. When Spider-Man spent an entire strip being held at gunpoint claiming in his thought balloons that he couldn’t move without endangering the suddenly not-evil Narna, then moved out of the way the very next day, I said not a word. When Narna tried to save our hero by flinging an enormous rock, only to hit him in the back of the head — despite the fact that, in the panel where she threw the rock, Spidey was facing towards her — I held my tongue.

But this — this — cannot stand. Here we have crimes not just against logic and good sense, but a violation of some of the core rules of this genre, in which we expect the villain to be defeated, in one sense or another, by the hero, and not to be rubbed out by his own incompetence as the hero lies groggy on the ground, felled by one of his allies. I’ll bet the writers think that this is ironic. It is not ironic. The introduction and then immediate solving of a problem in last year’s loathsome health insurance storyline was bad enough, but this is an abomination that cannot be so easily forgiven. I damn thee, Spider-Man! I damn thee to superhero hell in the name of the unwritten but well-understood contract between author and reader! Anathema, anathema!

Apartment 3-G, 9/7/06

Beer! Is there anything it can’t do? Beer looks like it’s about to get Tommie laid, which would make it the most powerful substance on earth.

Now, you and I both know that Tommie isn’t going to get laid, of course. No doubt right as Ted is about to make his drunken move, Lucy’s going to show up, begging for forgiveness, and either she’ll see the two of them together and further sitcom-style complications will ensue, or they’ll suddenly realize how foolish they’ve been and start macking right there in front of our poor forlorn redhead; or, even if Lucy stays in whatever adulterous love nest she’s been in for the past few months, Tommie will suddenly have an attack of righteousness and head on back to her cold, lonely bed in Apartment 3-G. So, no nookie for Tommie. But it won’t be beer’s fault.

Judge Parker, 9/7/06

Yeah, so I take back what I said before. I don’t think the glassy-eyed Abbey wants Raju to kiss her. I now think she’s just really, really high.

Pluggers, 9/7/06

So, you’re a Plugger if, uh, you’re forever haunted by the icy specter of death? Does Pluggers have any gears other than “smug” and “depressing?”

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Slylock Fox, 8/29/06

Ah, what a cute little game in which little kids can hone their powers of observation … and learn that adorable, tiny mice live in a world of constant fear, knowing that at any moment a powerful predator might swoop down out of the darkness and rip their frail bodies apart with its ravenous beak and razor-sharp claws, devouring them so quickly that they’re no doubt still alive as they slide down its gullet. By extension, kids also learn that the world is full of things that are powerful and threatening, and that they have no hopes of surviving in it, and so should just stay inside their safe, suburban homes, never taking risks or exploring, until eventually they graduate from college with no life skills or sense of wonder or adventure. Slylock Fox: Breeding a generation of weaklings since 1987.

Pluggers, 8/29/06

Stupid Plugger! There’s no porn in there!

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Pluggers, 8/28/06

I have nothing particularly hateful to say about today’s Pluggers, which is a good thing, because “Jason Rhea” of “Littleton, CO” is none other than Comics Curmudgeon faithful reader and occasional commentor Racing Js! So, congrats, Jason, on being the first Curmdgeoner Cardinal (but not, we hope the last) to get your home-spun wisdom enacted by freakish beast-persons.

Meanwhile, the comics’ other great reader-entry feature is proving itself to be a tougher nut to crack.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/28/06

Could this be the most cold-hearted TDIET yet? Allow me to paraphrase: “When he was healthy and in the prime of his life, Grandpa Croaker enjoyed his body’s youthful strength, and thought nothing of walking from place to place. But now that the ravages of age have broken down his joints and sucked the energy from his soul — howzat? — he’d prefer not to walk if he doesn’t have to.” The name “Croaker” is just piling on, letting us know that his inability to walk to the corner is a herald of his swiftly impending death. Oh yeah!

Gil Thorp, 8/28/06

Last summer, square-headed superteen Von Hanley managed to defeat a stalker with just a bunch of flashlights and his quick wits; this year, he, Marty, and Mandy, presumably after repeated viewing of The Sting, are apparently conspiring together to grift the grifter, and prove that two wrongs really do make a right. Since golf isn’t Von’s forte, and our three wannabe hustlers probably have about 130 IQ points between them, I have to assume that once Mandy arrives, she and Marty are just going to hold Ben Franklin down while Von administers a savage beatdown with his $4 Salvation Army putter.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/28/06

God damn, is Liz going to have all of her problems solved by women leaving their husbands?

By the way, Liz is way, way too excited about the opportunity to teach little suburban children. Yeah, it’s her life dream and blah blah blah, but you can’t tell me that any job short of, oh, I don’t know, the Governor General’s Official Fluffy Kitten Petter And Delicious Chocolate Eater would generate the kind of deranged enthusiasm portrayed here. No, her over-the-top reaction to a mere interview (which magically morphs into a job offer the moment she hangs up the phone), combined with her freakishly dilated pupils, the slovenly nature of her hovel, and her inability to focus on one thing long enough to pour her mac and cheese out of the pot and into a bowl can indicate only one thing about Liz: she’s all methed up. I for one look forward to the heartbreaking lessons about drug abuse that we’re about to learn.