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Gil Thorp, 1/7/08

One of my favorite terrible things about Gil Thorp is the way its narration boxes and exposition characters just hurl the full (and almost invariably WASPy) names of characters at you willy-nilly. I guess it’s supposed to keep you up on who’s doing what, but for me it has the opposite effect, as anyone who isn’t the main thrust of the storyline invariably gets lost in a sea of badly drawn faces. Was Grant Sanders an important player in the recently concluded football storyline? Has Bill Hawkins ever appeared in the strip before? Who the hell knows? I’m not very good with names in real life, and generally the people I encounter there don’t have facial features that move around and change shape from moment to moment. The only thing I’m sure of is that the dude at left in panel three was a prominent member of the Lollypop Guild.

Five bucks says that “Let’s get the A-Train involved here” also features prominently in Andrew Gregory’s foreplay banter.

Hi and Lois, 1/7/08

Hi is regarding his son with goggle-eyed horror not because they actually had some kind of upcoming vacation to St. Moritz — after all, this is the family whose idea of a dream trip was a week in cheesy faux Old West mining town, and even that apparently drove them to the verge of bankruptcy. No, the Flagston patriarch is stunned that Chip can actually summon up a phrase in a foreign language. For obvious reasons, they had always pegged him as the dumb one, and long ago spent his college fund on trips to cheesy faux tourist attractions.

Slylock Fox, 1/7/08

I hate to sound like I’m kissing up, but today’s Slylock is really a perfect little noir vignette — and while Reynard Noir is on vacation, too! I love the look into the Rats’ depressing home, with crumbling plaster covered over with Reeky’s wanted posters. The neat stack of photocopied bill sheets on the stool and the paper cutter in the foreground remind us that counterfeiting is exactly the sort of crime that fits the manic, obsessive energy of a meth fiend like Reeky. And I love the way Mrs. Rat is sitting at her vanity in a sexy slip (no doubt it’s 95 degrees and they don’t have AC), while her loutish hubby bellows commands from the other room. If only it ran in my newspaper, I could see it in black and white as it was clearly intended to be.

Funky Winkerbean, 1/7/08

Ha! It’s Funky Winkerbean! Even the exposition is cruel!

Judge Parker, 1/8/07

“So, I masturbated into your underwear drawer. Hope you don’t mind!”

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Slylock Fox, 1/6/08

OH, COME ON, SLYLOCK! I can’t make out the solution to this mystery in its small typeface, but I especially can’t make out why the two of you aren’t making out right now. “Prank calls,” indeed. I’m assuming that the only way the usual slack-jawed bunny and bird townsfolk were able to figure out that these sexy, sexy phone calls were coming from Cassandra was through top-secret technology called “caller ID.” Therefore, by my powers of deduction, I come to the conclusion that she wanted to be caught — caught with a full bubble bath and a bunch of scented candles. And who do you bring over? Max. Frickin’ Max. Unbelievable. That’s it, I’m on Team Cassandra! Who’s with me? (Buy the shirt if so, obviously.)

Zits, 1/6/07

I’m not sure if I mentioned it in a blog post, but a few weeks back there was some mild degree of controversy because Zits delved into the darkest, most offensive world of sexually charged street lingo. Specifically, there was a strip that featured Jeremy uttering in the word “sucks” — not in the sense of anybody specifically sucking on anything in particular, but in the general sense of the situation he was in being suboptimal, in the way that teenagers have been doing since at least five years before I was born. Several newspapers actually pulled the strip. Anyway, it baffles me that said word caused a kerfuffle and yet Scott and Borgman walk the streets as free men after foisting this image onto our brains, is what I’m saying.

Apartment 3-G, 1/6/08

“…a little sad and a lot drunk. And a lot asshole, too.”

(P.S. Don’t forget that Comments of the Week now appear on Mondays! So you can go to bed now, is what I’m trying to say.)

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Dick Tracy, 12/22/07

I’ve managed to go several weeks without mentioning Dick Tracy, and that’s because it’s been stupid and incomprehensible and insane. The meandering, pointless storyline has involved a maniac holding the governor hostage in an old haunted mansion at the end of a tunnel behind a painting; meanwhile, a wrecking crew has shown up to demolish the house the same day that a high-profile charity haunted house sleepover event involving local politicians is ostensibly in progress inside, and they refuse to obey the orders of the police. Today’s comic is worthy of mention, though, because it features the bad guy (or maybe the governor — I’m not entirely clear on this point) falling to his death, a mighty SPLATT ringing out as his organs are pulped inside his body cavity; then his corpse is mangled by a bulldozer, which the operator of said machine barely notices. I would bet money that this strip runs in at least one newspaper that pulled Zits last month because it used the word “sucks.”

Family Circus, 12/22/07

This sort of blasphemous sass that should definitely not bring a wry little smile to the lips of the mother of any ostensibly Christian household. Mommy needs to get out the crucifix and use it to bludgeon the devil out of her sinful son.

Judge Parker, 12/22/07

Hmm, pot brownies should really leave Abbey “inspired” to do little more than sit in the office and giggle about all the clashing color schemes she keeps coming up with. New theory: meth brownies.

Slylock Fox, 12/22/07

You know what America needs more of? Superheroes that pick up criminals by the scruff of the neck and then punch them in the face.