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Shoe, 10/27/22

I’m trying to figure out what the funniest message the Joint Chiefs of Staff could send to a small-town newspaper on an 8 x 11 sheet of paper in tiny font that would raise this level of shock from the Perfesser. I’m thinking “America’s civilian leadership has failed! The military must take control and begin the process of national regeneration. Do you happen to know the President’s phone number?”

Mary Worth, 10/27/22

With Zak’s life hanging in the balance (literally) and Iris unable or unwilling to hulk out, there’s only one thing left that can save our star- and age-crossed lovers: the power of prayer! Remember, when Wilbur was forced by circumstances into the ultimate indignity (climbing a tree) in order to hold starvation at bay, he beseeched the Almighty for help and was immediately transported to a party island, so I certainly hope God intervenes here as well and Zak falls harmlessly onto a cool trampoline while a bunch of positive-vibes bro onlookers cheer.

Pluggers, 10/27/22

EXTREMELY DEPRESSING PLUGGERS SCENARIO, 2006: I’m so desperate for cash I need to pawn my television, depriving me of some of the few joys I have left, for just a few meager dollars!

EXTREMELY DEPRESSING PLUGGERS SCENARIO, 2022: The computer watch tells me I can sleep now. Sleep. Sleep. You can tell from my facial expression that the only time I feel any pleasure is in that brief moment after I’ve been given permission to slip into blessed unconsciousness but before sleep takes me and I stop feeling anything at all.

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Shoe, 10/11/22

If you want a sense of how very old the actual imagined target readership of the newspaper comics is, consider today’s Shoe, which uses as the basis for its punchline the pop cultural touchstone of men belonging to fraternal orders with silly, overelaborate rituals and leadership titles. This is not even something that was really part of the Baby Boom generation’s experience; it’s something that Baby Boomers half-remember their parents arguing about, probably. It’s something that I, a 48-year-old man, mostly know about from watching decades-old reruns of The Flintstones as a child. And yet here it is, a joke in the newspaper and on God’s own internet that makes exactly zero sense if you aren’t familiar with these entirely moribund organizations. Definitely a sign of a healthy art form!

Gasoline Alley, 10/11/22

Not sure what I’m more surprised by: that Walt never considered that his proposed activities might be physically dangerous, or that the prospect of death finally coming for him still engenders anxiety, rather than a sense of profound relief.

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Judge Parker, 9/21/22

Oh, sorry, it seems the Judge Parker brain trust has heard your little diatribes about how Judge Parker is boring now because it’s all about its characters processing their mundane emotions in baffling and erratic ways. Well, that’s why we’re abruptly shifting gears and bringing back Steve the wounded special forces warrior to introduce this hard-hitting new storyline about the judge that replaced Judge Randy Parker, who cracked down on meth and fentanyl traffic … and whose whole family just got murdered. Or, sorry, assassinated. Assassinated! Will I be cancelled as a soft-on-crime lib if I point out that assassination is a kind of murder?

Funky Winkerbean, 9/21/22

Speaking of murder, I guess the Funky Winkerbean brain trust noticed they hadn’t pulled any grim shit since Bull Bushka drove off a cliff back in 2019. Well, here you go, you ghouls: Darrin and Jessica tracked down a real weirdo who hoards memorabilia from the TV station that employed Jessica’s father, John Darling, including the gun that a guy dressed as a plant used to kill him! Look at how Jessica and her husband are recoiling in shock at the casual way this guy identifies his ghastly trophy! Are you happy now, you sickos? Are you happy???

Curtis, 9/21/22

I appreciate the long game Greg is playing here — making an elaborate show of enjoying Curtis’s favorite music before cruelly lowering the boom in the final panel. I assume, like a master chess player, he anticipated multiple potential third-panel conversational gambits from his son, and had a sick burn in his back pocket for all of them.

Shoe, 9/21/22

Far be it for me to call a comic strip about talking birds who wear (some) clothes “realistic,” but I do think that its portrayal of life at a small-town newspaper has a certain truth to it, in the sense that it depicts a publication run with almost no employees, which almost nobody reads, and the few remaining editors can just use it to pursue their own personal gripes and vendettas as they kill time waiting for a hedge fund to buy them and immediately shut them down.