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Shoe, 11/11/07

“These are perilous times to be refinancing your mortgage, Cosmo.” Ah, an auspicious beginning to any light-hearted journey into the Sunday funnies! But at least the Perfesser’s encounter with his mortgage lender is fairly straightforward. See, his name is “I. M. Usurious”! Which indicates that he is usurious! Ha! It’s a sharp and subtle commentary on modern mores. He’s also a buzzard, you’ll note. Because banks metaphorically feast on the flesh of the dead and dying, you see! (Or is it metaphorical? The world of Shoe, so much like ours but with anthropomorphized talking birds, always straddles the line between metaphor and nightmare.)

Family Circus, 11/11/07

The post-modern emotional desert in which the Keane kids gasp for sustenance is starkly illustrated today, as they can only interpret mom and dad’s attempt to have a genuine moment of romantic intimacy through the lens of the horrible pop cultural products of late-stage capitalism. A more realistic thing to shout at them might have been, “Hey, no getting frisky, you two! You can barely afford to feed all of us now as it is.”

And, just for the heck of it, let’s check in to see what’s going on over in Rex Morgan, M.D.!

On second thought, maybe let’s not.

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Shoe, 10/21/07

As the funnies have repeatedly taught us, there’s nothing better for tickling your funny bone as you read the paper over a leisurely Sunday breakfast like a lonely, depressed bird trying to deal with his empty life by drinking alone. Usually it’s the Perfesser whose ruined, emotionally dead existence gets put on display for our amusement, but today’s it’s Shoe, because, hey, why the hell not. He wants to drink whiskey until his vision is impaired! His psychic wounds are so deep that no amount of substance use can put an end to the pain! Normally this is the stuff of depressing black-and-white European cinema, but there’s a cute pun here and a reference to a classic movie star that 75 percent of the strip’s readers have never heard of — plus, as mentioned, the poor depressed alcoholic and his enabler are birds — so in this case it’s a God-damned laugh riot.

Funky Winkerbean, 10/21/07

I have to admit that I found this strip both sweet in and of itself and a decent way to frame the Great Funky Winkerbean Leap Forward. However, I do wonder exactly what dialog preceded “…and so that’s what happens to people when they die.” If this were the Family Circus, there probably would have been some treacly description of God taking you up to a beautiful shiny white paradise where you get to look down from above on a cloud, but in this strip I’m guessing Les provided a detailed description of the typical sequence of organ failure, followed by a chemistry-heavy discourse on the decay of organic matter. Similarly, in a cutesier strip, little Summer’s heartwarming gesture in the first panel of the second row would indicate that Lisa will live forever in her heart, but it’s more likely that Les brought her to Central Park so she could dig up some of her ashes and eat them.

Judge Parker, 10/21/07

Yeah, Red, wait! Stick around! I can’t imagine why you’d want to leave. Is it just because one of your hosts got drunk and tried to shank you with a steak knife because you pointed out that he got himself into his own mess? Nice little egging on there from Sam — “Wish you hadn’t sad that, counselor! Don’t make Mullety Flatop angry — you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry!” Why, if you storm out now, you won’t get to see Trudi break that wine bottle on the edge of the table and go after her knife-wielding brother. Should be a hoot!

Oh, and note to Keith: Don’t all shysters have law degrees by definition? Also, I know it’s your house and all, but you really shouldn’t try to stab people with the flatware.

Dennis the Menace, 10/21/07

Ha ha, look at Dennis’s pissy face in the last panel! I know what he’s going to be when grows up: sullen and unemployed!

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B.C., 9/26/07

…or like fish, right? Because the whole “tastes like chicken” joke is about exotic animals that people don’t usually eat, you see, and at root it’s based on the fact that chicken is fairly bland, as is most meat from small-ish animals, and it’s just that chicken is the kind of small-ish animal we eat the most. And fish, by contrast, actually have a really distinctive flavor … and he’s eating a fish … and the joke would have worked just as well if the punchline had been “…it sure tastes great” or something along those lines … and … and … AAAAARRRGGGH!

Ahem. To say something nice, I sort of like Clumsy’s crudely drawn but effectively harrowing look of profound horror in the final panel. I also think it’s amusing that Curls has taken his first bite of delectable Dorsellectus Illusivii out of the fish’s head. (Addendum: OH GOD I KNOW THE NAMES OF B.C. CHARACTERS WITHOUT LOOKING THEM UP PLEASE KILL ME NOW)

Hi and Lois, 9/26/07

“Now, Trixie, don’t forget, Daddy and I have decided that you will stay a perfect porcelain doll, untouched by the dangerous rays of the sun throughout your sheltered life. Don’t make me put you in the barrel again!”

Pluggers, 9/26/07

Pluggers … let their children play in feces? Wow, there’s really not much I can add to this one. I would like to point out, though, that cats like to shit in sandboxes generally. Brightly colored sandboxes in the postage-stamp-sized backyards of yuppie-hipster rowhouses in Park Slope; huge, multi-level sand-based environments in the acres behind McMansions in Northern Virginia; or sand-filled tires in the trash-strewn lots of Pluggerville, USA: cats will do their business in any of them. Thus, I can only assume that the poop angle was added here to give someone a perverse thrill. You are sick, sir or madam, sick!

Shoe, 9/26/07

OK, if you’ve worked for a newspaper for years and frequently cover political stories and still don’t know the length of your town’s mayoral term, you no longer get to call yourself “Perfesser.” I don’t care if it’s whimsically misspelled. This sort of thing quite frankly makes me rethink my opinions on media consolidation. If Gannett bought the Treetops Tribune (or whatever the hell it’s called; I’M NOT LOOKING IT UP YOU CAN’T MAKE ME) and outsourced all of the local reporting to a journalism compound in Bangalore, at least those guys would know how to look up the answer on Wikipedia.