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Hagar the Horrible, 5/1/12

You know, I’ve been reading Hagar the Horrible for most of my literate life, and like most people, I had always assumed that the recurring strips where Hagar and Lucky Eddie crack wise on a tiny desert island just served as a place for desert-island gags rejected by the New Yorker. It’s only at this moment — as Hagar wistfully thinks about his wife, who’s thousands of miles away, who has no idea where he is, who he’ll probably never see again — that it occurred to me to try to fit these scenes into the larger narrative of the strip. Now that this conceptual shift has taken place, here’s my first question: what happened to the rest of the crew? Did Hagar and Eddie eat them?

Six Chix, 5/1/12

When I first scanned this strip I thought it was some miracle of life nonsense, but seeing the exhausted expression on momma bird and the frankly terrified look on papa bird, my guess is the real point is that spring made these birds horny and so they had some bird-sex and forgot to use birth control. Or should that be … BIRDTH CONTROL?? Because they’re birds, you see! Ha ha! Anyway, long story short, they have a bunch of children they don’t want now.

Spider-Man, 5/1/12

Oh, man, I don’t know why I’m surprised, but MJ’s supposedly funny play is terrible. Unless maybe the quote marks around all the dialogue indicate that the cast is in on the joke about how terrible the play is, and are playing the entire thing for meta-comedic laughs at the meta-awfulness of it all? That sounds like something that would play in Brooklyn rather than on Broadway, and anyway it’s been repeatedly demonstrated that nobody in the Spider-Man newspaper strip is even a tiny bit self-aware, because if they were they would immediately stalk away in disgust.

Mark Trail, 5/1/12

Just wanted to keep you up to date with the Mark Trail action. Today’s action: a bad guy lets loose with a WHAT TH’, which is always awesome. Also, apparently Andy’s kill switch is hard to turn off! Man, look at that slavering maw in panel two! He’s got a taste for human flesh now!

Funky Winkerbean, 5/1/12

“He used to joke about it, but it’s not a joke anymore. It’s completely true! My father can’t feel any human emotion or grasp ordinary, everyday experience unless it’s mediated through a recording device of some kind. In this way, he has become the archetype of a 21st century human being.”

Beetle Bailey, 5/1/12

Hey, remember back in the ’90s when Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Industries LLC made a big deal about sending General Halftrack to sensitivity training, because of his constant, actionable sexual harassment of his secretary? Well, it didn’t take

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Six Chix, 3/30/12

Color me 100% DELIGHTED at this frank depiction of three ladies just getting stone cold blotto in the comics. In fact, it took me a moment to get that there was a pun in play here, and I thought the whole joke was “Ha ha, these three women have consumed an amazingly large amount of alcohol, and now they feel really unpleasant!” I also thought that the lady in the middle had had her throat slit, possibly in a drunken brawl, though I guess that’s just supposed to be her chin. Anyway, things are never quite as good as I imagine them to be, but they’re still pretty good in this case.

Momma, 3/30/12

Oh, Momma, I think you’re confusing your lingo here! A “hit” in crime-talk is a murder for hire; maybe the term you’re looking for is “shakedown”? Or maybe you think Francis is going to purchase a “hit” of some illegal narcotic (that’s what the kids call it? a “hit of heroin”? the kids? the junkie kids?) with your money, something his sweaty overeagerness in panel three might suggest. I realize this is all taking place in a world where there’s a radio show called “The Greatest Hits On Earth” and also people still buy radios and they cost $40, but for some reason “hit” really bothers me.

Funky Winkerbean, 3/30/12

I have been trying to find something nice to say about Funky Winkerbean’s 40th anniversary celebration, and finally here’s something: it’s nice to see that 40 years ago Funky Winkerbean didn’t feel obliged to put ‘quotes’ around ‘phrases’ to ’emphasize’ the ‘joke.’

Judge Parker, 3/30/12

Ha ha, ladies, more concerned with interior decorating than with blowing away intruders, amiright fellas? It’s a wonder we even let them have guns!

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Apartment 3-G, 3/14/12

Hmm, Apartment 3-G, do remember that there was once a lady who didn’t want to have kids, but her husband browbeat her into it, and then, when she reacted to motherhood exactly the way you’d think someone who didn’t want kids but was browbeaten into having one would react, everyone she knew decided she was a monster and it was totally 100 percent OK that her husband made a pass at another woman, while they were married? She was named Thérèse, and she was in For Better Or For Worse, and she was, um, somewhat controversial, so perhaps we don’t want to be modeling anybody on her situation too closely? I expect rampant fetus worship from Tommie and her new found obsession with midwifery and Lu Ann and her love of all things tiny and (for the moment) dumber than her, but I have to say I’m kind of disappointed in Margo here. She’s about to bust out laughing and say, “Ha, no, I’m screwing with you, let’s take this six-pack over to Nina right now,” right?

Funky Winkerbean and Crankshaft, 3/14/12

Meanwhile, over in the Funkyverse, the Lady Scapegoats have been permitted by their hitherto malevolent God to claim the state basketball championship. At least they overcame adversity and all that; hateful old Crankshaft appears to be on the verge of some other delight-generating golf triumph (a hole in one? I’m not looking at the last few days’ strips, you can’t make me) thanks to pure dumb luck. Presumably this means that the very fabric of Funky-reality is about to be torn apart from joy overload, so everyone involved needs to enjoy it while they can.

Six Chix, 3/14/12

When you contemplate newspaper comics, do you think to yourself, “Enh, I like the funny drawings and all, but there isn’t enough puking for my taste.” Well, consider their game STEPPED UP.