Post Content

Funky Winkerbean, 4/17/12

So this perky underclassman nerd is attempting to woo jock senior Summer by means of anonymous text messages, which sounds like something that most girls would find spectacularly creepy and would probably earn him a punch in the face, but in the Funkyverse there’s a 50-50 chance this will result in true love. It did make me wonder (a) if anonymous text messages are even something you can send from your phone, (b) if so how a reply could get back to you, and (c) assuming such things exist, if anyone really calls them “restricted texts” as our amorous dweeb has been doing. Then I realized that I had just a little too much self respect to put the energy into researching the answers to these questions, so I didn’t! Aren’t you proud of me?

Mark Trail, 4/17/12

By “updating an aerial survey of his area,” Doc of course means “masturbating.” He knows that Mark will go in search of Tom, and hopes that, in stumbling upon him in the act of onanism, Mark will finally be forced to confront the reality of human sexuality. Decades of marriage to Doc’s daughter hasn’t done the trick, so this may be his last chance.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/17/12

So far, this plot’s central mystery has revolved around the dead Foster’s true character. Was he a lovable old rogue who perhaps drank a bit more than he should? Or was he a hateful alcoholic dick? The fact that he left for his daughter a book (one that everyone keeps emphasizing “reads like a screenplay”) that’s full of traumatizingly hot sex scenes involving her mother seems to tip things towards the latter possibility.

Spider-Man, 4/17/12

The last bit of dramatic tension in this storyline has been resolved without any help whatsoever from our ostensible protagonist, so now he can finally celebrate Spidey-style! Spidey-style celebration apparently consists of a little jig that’s frankly embarrassing to watch, because dancing is one of the many, many things Spider-Man sucks at.

Post Content

Mary Worth and Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/3/12

Hmm, hey, did someone decide to have a Best Sidelong Glance In A Soap Opera Strip contest and somehow NOT ask me to be a judge??? That’s OK, because I enjoy each glance on its own terms and don’t feel a need to quantify them or pick one as the “best.” Each has its own charms! For instance, I like how Mary is looking somewhat hopefully at Jeff, hoping that he’ll look past the theatrically weeping televangelist and see the more general analogy she’s trying to draw. You know, sometimes you get wake-up calls in this life! Like, when your asexual not-girlfriend keeps rejecting your marriage proposals! Maybe that would be a sign to wake up and move on with your life? Not just come over to her house and bother her with your jabbering while she’s trying to watch the bad man crying on the teevee?

June’s glance, meanwhile, is more one of mounting panic, as she realizes that Rex is about to be zero help in dealing with this sexy not-dressed drunken lady who’s demanding more booze, for drunkenness. “Sure … give me a minute,” June says, backing slowly towards the liquor cabinet, not taking her eyes off Iris lest she suddenly and violently attempt to drink the lamp.

Dick Tracy, 4/3/12

Speaking of contests, it appears that Dick Tracy heard that Mark Trail was going to depict the world of marijuana use and/or distribution in a hilariously square fashion and thought, “Whoah there, I’ll bet we can do them one better!”

Slylock Fox, 4/3/12

This is pretty much the saddest Slylock Fox since that guy brought his skeletonized fish to the vet. In fact, it may be even sadder, because while that guy will probably move on with his life eventually and the fish is past caring, these two star-crossed aqua-lovers are stuck for their short lives in their too-small bowls, without even a fake treasure chest to hide behind while pressing their lips against the glass and imagining what it must be like to feel the physical touch of someone who really loves them.

Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 3/29/12

Cookie has always been something of an anomaly among the denizens of Camp Swampy; he never appears in uniform, so one assumes that, like Miss Buxley, he’s a civilian employee of the military rather than a soldier himself. My grandfather was during World War II a stateside Army cook who was actually in the Army; I’m not sure when that stopped being a thing, but presumably it was during the post-Korea/pre-Vietnam era during which most of Beetle Bailey’s now thoroughly outdated tropes arose. One assumes that today Cookie receives his paycheck from a Halliburton subsidiary.

But while he may not be under military discipline in a strict legal sense, it appears that he’s required to do the bidding of whoever’s around with the highest rank. Today’s strip, for instance, is much more than the typical ha-ha-Sarge-sure-likes-to-eat because of Cookie’s look of quiet despair. He knows he’s killing Sarge calorie by calorie, knows as he stares into that pan that he’s troweling grease onto Sarge’s arteries every morning. He’d like to suggest a healthy breakfast once in a while, but he’s duty-bound to produce 1,190 calories, as ordered. But he doesn’t have to be happy about it.

Mark Trail, 3/29/12

The beginning of this current Mark Trail storyline has promised nothing but a little aerial photography of the greater Lost Forest region, which, once it became clear that Mark was not terrified by the notion of mechanically assisted flight, did very little for me. But now the real action is starting, and that action involves what I assume are marijuana plants that are about to be spotted from the air, and that action will be awesome. Hey, generic khaki-clad baddies, do you know who would recognize marijuana? Mark Trail! Prepare to get punched something fierce!

Family Circus, 3/29/12

Skynet has sent an army of T-1000s from the future to attack the Keane Kompound, which should make us question whether it really hates humanity as much as we’ve been led to believe.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/29/12

“And his thirst for brown liquor!”