Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 1/27/14

Here’s the thing about me and the soap opera strips: after years of reading them, I’ve just sort of normalized their usual low-level absurdity, and so they have to get really absurd before I sit up and take notice. So, last week, when Tommie saw a deer get hit by a car and found a little baby deer and felt bad about it, with the whole thing narrated by Tommie without us ever actually seeing either deer? Low-level absurd. Tommie bringing said baby deer, who looks a lot more like a kangaroo or something, back to her small New York City apartment, to live? VERY ABSURD. This week’s going to be great! Tommie tries to figure out what the baby deer will drink from a bottle and eventually calls La Leche League! Tommie tries to laugh off all the lacerations on her hands and face from the deer’s tiny but still sharp hooves! Tommie takes the deer for a walk, on a leash! The deer poops and pees all over the apartment, despite the fact that Tommie’s been taking it for walks! OH MY GOD MARGO OH MY GOD WHAT WILL MARGO SAY I AM SO EXCITED YOU GUYS

Mark Trail, 1/27/14

Speaking of things I’m excited about: we all know Mark Trail recycles plots from its past, sometimes directly, sometimes piecing together characters and art and plot points from multiple sources to create a dreamlike world of eternal return. Anyway, one of the first great Mark Trail storylines this blog covered, more than nine years ago (ugh, I am so old) involved Birdie, a kindly, animal-loving vet who was married to a taxidermist who was using taxidermy as a front to smuggle drugs and Mark figured it out and Birdie and her husband knocked Mark unconscious and threw him in the water where he encountered some sharks. Will bird-helping Jessica Canupp’s taxidermist boyfriend also be a drug dealer? Let’s hope!

Six Chix, 1/27/14

Can you imagine if some substance that magically restored youth were discovered, but it only existed at one place on Earth and you had to travel there to get it? As soon as word got out, thousands or millions of people would quit their jobs and jump in the car, overwhelming whatever transportation infrastructure existed in the region. But the traffic jams would just be the beginning: whoever discovered the fountain and initially tried to control access to it would immediately be overwhelmed by the influx of desperate people, greedy for eternal life; similarly, whatever government ruled the territory would struggle to simultaneously maintain order in the region and fend off neighboring states for whom the temptation to conquer this miracle land would be overwhelming. Within weeks or even days of the fountain’s discovery, global society would inevitably collapse into violent anarchy. So, yes, there’s some good world-building going on in Six Chix here, though I’m not sure what the “joke” is supposed to be per se.

Luann, 1/27/14

Oh man, I had assumed this was just a rerun of the last time the boys and the girls at Pitts High had weird, unsettling bathroom conversations, but now it appears that Knute actually has some sort of official bathroom-cleaning duties, to give the whole scenario some vague context outside someone’s very specific fetishes. Hey, remember during the 2012 Republican primaries when Newt Gingrich said that poor children should work as school janitors to make money? We should send him a copy of this cartoon and watch him weep bitter tears at the horrifying unintended consequences of his schemes.

Post Content

Better Half, 1/5/14

Stanley thought that the ennui of a long medical stay would be leavened if he checked in to Vaudeville, Borscht Belt, and Dadjokes General Hospital. How wrong he was!

Gasoline Alley, 1/5/14

If the central conceit of your strip is that the characters age in real time, but also your strip has been running for 95 years and you refuse to kill anyone off, you will eventually get a visit from a nice man from the government convinced your characters are perpetrating Social Security fraud.

Six Chix, 1/5/14

The vet is there to provide the constant medical attention this nightmare legless dog-blob abomination needs to maintain its ghastly parody of life.

The lawyer is there to fend off lawsuits from everyone emotionally traumatized by seeing it.

Post Content

Gil Thorp, 11/26/13

Uggggh guys, sorry I haven’t been keeping you in the loop on the Gil Thorp football season plot, but it’s been super boring. Here’s a quick summary: the big guy who never talks is making friends and has a girlfriend and is playing on the football team even though he continues not to talk, and the Coaches Thorp are doing some half-assed detective work to figure out his Past Life Trauma; and Tip the cheerleader has been dragooned into playing on the football team, because almost all the actual football players have been injured in some way. The injury spate has up until today been confined for the most part to incidents during games or in practice, but today the team’s running backs have just been straight-up killed in a car crash. Which leaves one to ask: what horrible sin against the Gods have the Mudlarks committed, to be suffering such a fate? Were their sacrifices at the annual bonfire not considered worthy? I was reminded of a line in this review of a book about Aztec culture and sacrificial religion:

I suspect that, given a geographical setting where the main instrumental aim of religious ritual was to avert natural dangers that came at irregular intervals, such practices were subject to an “intensification ratchet” — if your efforts did not succeed in preventing the earthquake, volcanic eruption, or hurricane despite the previous long period of peace and quiet, the best inference is that it’s probably because you did not try hard enough.

In other words, look for increasingly frequent and bloody pep rallies in the coming months, with the limping and injured players making the perfect sacrificial victims. “Why do you turn your backs on us, O Gods of Victory?” Coach Kaz will implore, blood-stained hands raised to the heavens over a steaming, gory altar at the front of the Milford High School auditorium.

Six Chix, 11/26/13

I’m intrigued by the truly radical proposal being broached in today’s Six Chix: that electricity-hungry humankind should bypass the oil companies and just deal directly with Satan, the Lord of Lies, himself, tapping the supernatural fires of Hell and the moans of damned souls as an energy source. What could possible go wrong? I mean, sure, eventually we’ll all be weird pinkish blobs tortured for eternity, but let’s be real: that was probably going to happen to most of us anyway, so why should we pay high utility bills in the meantime?

B.C., 11/26/13

This is as good an opportunity as any to remind you that I have a Twitter account that you can follow if you like that sort of thing! It’s, uh, mostly petty complaints.