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Slylock Fox, 1/15/07

This has to count as one of the most frankly sexual newspaper comics I’ve ever seen. I neither expect nor at any level want to see red-hot mouse-on-mouse action in Slylock Fox, but in a medium that tippy-toes around the love life of three healthy single women in Manhattan and goes to excruciatingly unrealistic lengths to protect Elizabeth Patterson’s virtue, the matter-of-fact presentation of Max “visiting” Melody in the middle of the night — and of the two of them obviously being woken up by Slylock’s frenzied late-night call — is kind of shocking.

This sidekick business is clearly no cakewalk; clearly, Max must be forced to carry a beeper around with him, or to give his vulpine boss the phone number of all his lady friends’ houses. Either that, or he’s only cultivated his relationship with Melody because he knows she lives across the street from a fence. As soon as the stolen goods are recovered, Max is moving on, leaving a tiny broken heart in his wake.

For Better Or For Worse, 1/15/07

In my policy of trying to find the bright side of everything, I’m really enjoying Liz’s verbal humiliation at the hands of her Mtigwakian supposed friends. As I’ve noted earlier, the Noble Natives of the North may have been intended as a heavy-handed bit of ethnography, but they have ended up being the only people in Foobonia allowed to frankly call Liz on her crap. Not that I endorse the overarching “stick with your own kind” message here, but wrapping up “Girl, she stole your man! Snap!” in some kind of mystical “spirit journey” hokum is pretty hilarious to me.

I think we all know that Liz doesn’t have to worry about guidance. Her journey is like a cruise missile, zeroing in on The Mustache at an unstoppable rate.

Antifoobitarianism is spreading to the Webocmic world, by the way. Check out these recent offerings from Crap I Drew On My Lunch Break and Shortpacked!

Dick Tracy, 1/15/07

Boy, Dick Tracy is getting soft. Dick actually looks kind of concerned that he may have accidentally destroyed a man’s mind while engaging in pointless plot-stalling exposition. It takes mustachioed industrialist Diet Smith to supply the appropriate level of callousness. “Now, Tracy, this man is my employee, and when he signed his contract, he waived his right to sue or press charges over accidental brain erasure. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the empty shell of his body is disposed of with some degree of dignity.”

The phrase “he spilled his thought beans” makes me uncomfortable on a number of levels.

Mary Worth, 12/15/07

Not only is Mary Worth honest-to-God going to Vietnam, but she’s managed to go from decision to airborne in less than a week. Meanwhile, she’s still having disturbing dreams. I’m guessing that “Hanoi … Peace Village” has something to do with this, but it’d be so much cooler if it were actually the site of the Communist mind-control lab where Mary was brainwashed forty years ago. It’d play out like The Manchurian Candidate, with Mary playing the part of both Frank Sinatra and Angela Lansbury.

At first I was jealous that Mary was flying in some kind of magical airplane with wide, comfortable seats and several inches of elbow room between neighbors, but then I realized where that extra space came from: there doesn’t appear to be any aisle. Presumably once the plane reaches Vietnamese airspace, the bottom of the plane will open up and the passengers will be dropped onto their destination.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/3/07

So, in case you weren’t paying attention, Eric Mills broke Margo’s heart by jetting out of town mysteriously, then just as suddenly set it aflame again by showing up on Apartment 3-G’s doorstep on Christmas in a particularly pointless bit of plotting whiplash. Margo must be getting inured to the pleasures of hot monkey sex romance and such, though, because it isn’t having the same softening effect on her personality as it did a few weeks ago. I love her completely pointless outrage in panel one. “Mr. Gibbs? How dare he have a WASPy, monosyllabic last name!”

Mr. Gibbs has been nothing but avuncular and pleasant to Lu Ann throughout the long Adventure of the Haunted Studio, but that facial expression in panel three pretty much screams, “Hello ladies! Looks like all those hidden cameras I installed throughout this firetrap are about to pay for themselves after all!”

Crankshaft, 1/3/07

You know, today’s Crankshaft is a good example of the strip’s subtle but fierce misanthropy. Because at first you’re grateful that they switched the expression around and didn’t actually show you the mangled corpse of a deer embedded into the hood of this car, but then you realize that he’s implying that somewhere there’s a terribly injured animal running around, with a huge chunk of metal and glass and plastic hanging out of a bloody wound in its side … well, Crankshaft is kind of mean-spirited, is what I’m trying to say.

Mary Worth, 1/3/07

Is this the bitchiest Mary Worth ever? “Yeah, Agent Orange, terribly moved, blah blah blah … but what about MEEEEEEEE????? What about MY NEEDS????”

Who is Mary talking to, exactly? Yesterday’s omniscient narration box noted only that she was calling “Cambodia.” Perhaps she was connected directly to King Norodom Sihamoni, who, being a constitutional monarch, has little better to do with his time than to take phone calls from agitated biddies.

Slylock Fox, 1/3/07

I’m not sure what’s funnier: The cheery, innocent look on the face of the megamagnet-wielding security goon, or the expression of sheer, heart-stopping terror on the face of our innocent traveller — perhaps literally heart-stopping, as his pacemaker slams into his sternum, drawn inexorably by this fiendish device. If I had to guess about the origin of this little drama, I’d wager that a certain cartoonist had his precious collection of gels and liquids confiscated by some jackbooted thug while he was traveling over the Thanksgiving holiday. Well, you crossed the wrong gel aficionado, Mr. TSA Man! I bet you felt pretty foolish when you opened up the paper and found that you had been named and shamed in today’s Slylock Fox!

One Big Happy, 1/3/07

The countdown to Ruthie’s inevitable stabbing frenzy and subsequent trip to juvie begins … now.

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For Better Or For Worse, 12/19/06

Betting on what this smoke portends shall now commence! Here are your odds:

• The apartment building is on fire: 2 to 1.
• The fire was started by one of Mr. Kelpforth’s aromatic cigars: 4 to 3.
• Mike’s horrible novel only exists in that paper manuscript and on that laptop: 3 to 2.
• Mike must choose between saving his horrible novel and one of his horrible children: 3 to 1.
• Mike realizes that he has two kids but only one novel: 5 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping child to safety: 2 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Deanna to safety: 3 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Lovey to safety: 4 to 1.
• Mike must carry a sleeping Kelpforth or two to safety: 10 to 1.
• Even after burning down the house and being saved by Mike, the Kelpforths are still insufferable: 4 to 1.
• Lovey plotzes: 3 to 1.
• Deanna’s awful mother attempts to force them to move in with her: 5 to 1.
• Mike and Deanna actually end up back at chez Patterson while their digs are being reconstructed/they search for a new home/indefinitely: 3 to 1.
• Friction among the siblings occurs, but the true meaning of Christmas is learned by all: Even.
• Liz sees Mike and Deanna’s strained, child-ruined, sexless marriage and realizes that Anthony is The One: 7 to 6.
• Mike’s manuscript is thought to be lost, but is eventually recovered miraculously on Christmas day: 3 to 1.
• Mike’s slightly charred manuscript is snapped up by Canada’s biggest publisher and becomes an instant best-seller and critical darling: 2 to 1.
• Mike and Deanna continue to live with his parents anyway: 5 to 1.
• The house isn’t on fire at all; the smoke is from the massive bong hits Deanna needs to keep from murdering her husband and children: 100 to 1 (but it would be awesome.)

Slylock Fox, 12/19/06

Wow, Slylock Fox’s “six differences” is exceptionally grim this week. I wonder if earlier versions featured a cat instead of a fish, or perhaps a baby, and had to be ratcheted back a little bit so as to not traumatize all the youngsters who read this feature. Still, Mr. Jones’ look of total devastation belies the notion that this is just some cartoon fish that we don’t have to care about: it was clearly his only friend, which may explain why he’s been in denial about its deaths for the weeks it would take to skeletonize.

My favorite difference between the two panels is the rabbit’s facial expression in the background: at left, it just stares forward with numb incomprehension, while at right it gives a sidelong glance to the viewer, establishing a rapport in which both cartoon bunny and comic reader share a moment of awful comprehension of their own mortality.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/19/06

Now I know why June keeps up this loveless sham of a marriage with Rex: he’s such a colossal prick that she actually seems to be capable of a shred of empathy by comparison.

Mark Trail, 12/19/06

Yes, the beavers are excited about being with each other. I could not make this stuff up if I tried.