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Spider-Man, 1/31/15

This week’s Spider-Man has involved some confusing business about Peter sauntering into the emergency room after a robot fell on him and then sauntering out again diagnosed with a cracked rib and I honestly don’t know enough about his spider-powers (the proportional powers of … a spider) to know whether rib-breaking is a thing that could happen to him, and so whether this is all genuine boring medical talk or a boring ruse to protect his boring secret identity. The fact that the fracture in the x-ray extends beyond the rib itself seems to indicate the latter? Either way, Mysterio lets the wall-crawler know who’s boss by crumpling the x-ray up and fucking it.

Gil Thorp, 1/31/15

In any other narrative context, an athlete whispering, essentially, “Please! I hurt so bad!!” to a trainer would be a cue to start a Serious Issue Story about performance-enhancing drugs of some sort. But since the person being implored is the dorky student manager who only cares about fundamentals and sweater vests and branding, probably he’ll just get some advice about dribbling or something. Gil Thorp can be a pretty disappointing comic strip most of the time, guys.

Six Chix, 1/31/15

You know, Six Chix usually manages to fly under my radar, but it’s had a banner week this week, all bloated corpses and petty grievances and other bloated corpses. And this is a pretty solid capper: a woman dressed all in black, like a burglar or a puppetteer, attempts to buy a robotic simulacrum of a loving family, only to be rebuffed in favor of her own cat, who is in turn repulsed and terrified by the android’s steely embrace.

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Six Chix, 1/30/15

Oh, man, kids today, am I right? Always conceptualizing the food they eat as aesthetic experiences worthy of being shared with others, am I right? In my day, we saw food for what it was: a disgusting mass of organic matter that, if you were lucky, had been pumped full of preservatives to slow down its rot. This’ll show those punks who get so excited about putting pictures of their brunch on the MySpace or whatever. Hey young people: those Eggs Benedict are basically a festering corpse, when you think about it!

Hi and Lois, 1/30/15

But … but …

there are only five ex-Soviet Central Asian countries

you are being screwed here, Chip

Azerbaijan does not count

it is clearly part of the Caucausus, not Central Asia

no wonder these kids are doing so badly on their standardized tests

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/29/15

I’m not sure which I find more jarring here: the fact that Jughaid has used the flatlander term “spoiler alert” (in Hootin’ Holler, as in many traditional cultures, entertainment takes the form of bards putting their own spin on endless variations of well-known narratives, so the very idea of a novel, linear plot with a surprising ending would be foreign to these children), or the fact that the normally raven-haired Miz Prunelly is suddenly a blonde.

Crankshaft and Funky Winkerbean, 1/29/15

Well, the Dick Tracy-Funky Winkerbean crossover is over, but the Funkyverse still has CROSSOVER FEVER!!!!! With nobody currently willing to cross over with it, though, it’s been forced to mingle timelines with … itself. Yes, there’s now a cross-decade Funky Winkerbean–Crankshaft narrative confluence in progress, about Crankshaft driving beloved (?) band leader Harry Dinkle and the band to some band championship or something. Funky’s installments are using Old Timey Photo Album Frame panels, the strip’s sign for Things That Happened Long Ago, which is confusing since both strips take place more or less in the present. All this timestream mucking about mainly serves to sadly let us know that, since Crankshaft’s life continues beyond this adventure, Harry will never make good on his promise to slide that baton straight through Crankshaft’s leathery old flesh and right into his black, shriveled heart.

Six Chix, 1/29/15

One good thing about having a nationally syndicated comic strip: when you experience some minor irritation in your daily life, the rapidly aging and declining comics-reading demographic will get to hear about it, by God.

Pluggers, 1/29/15

The only time pluggers will be addressed with the slightest glimmer of dignity is when they are already in the grave.