Post Content

Spider-Man, 11/10/09

“I dunno, I guess I thought … he put people to sleep? You know, like the mythical figure you tell your kids about? ‘Mr. Sandman, Bring Me A Dream,’ and all that? But this is just a man … who turns into sand … and who calls himself ‘the Sandman.’ I mean … huh. It’s kind of a little too on the nose, isn’t it?”

Judge Parker, 11/10/09

So, wait, Frank D’Vito’s widow is a leggy, amoral blonde who lounges about her mansion wearing a dress so short and tight that she would find it literally impossible to sit down? I for one am totally shocked to see such a development in Judge Parker.

Mary Worth, 11/10/09

“Oh my God, he has … rightlegitis! And Scott’s father’s right leg was so shapely, too! Damn you, you smack-dealing bastards! Damn you straight to hell!”

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 11/10/09

“BUT I FIGGER YORE EYESIGHT MUST BE PRETTY KEEN, T’ COMPENSATE FOR YOUR BAD HEARING! YOU CAN HEAR ME IF’N I SHOUT LIKE THIS, RIGHT?”

Post Content

Spider-Man, 11/7/09

Oh my goodness, have I somehow managed to completely miss to this point the fact that Spider-Man crime honcho Bigshot is in fact a person of diminutive stature? And that his “Bigshot” moniker is thus delightfully ironic? That’s the conclusion I’m drawing from first two panels. It’s also possible that American’s bankers, apparently deciding that ordinary citizens no longer give them proper respect in the wake of the financial meltdown, have installed raised daises for their tellers so that they can literally glare down at the little people.

Meanwhile, in panel three, the Sandman is showing that Bigshot doesn’t own him. Sure, he may be taking part in this bank heist in order to save his daughter’s life, but he scrupulously avoids using any coarse terms of abuse for lawmen. No, it’s just “pop,” “buddy,” and, if he really gets worked up, “bub.”

Phantom, 11/7/09

Hey, everyone, the Phantom’s wife got blown up! Apparently! But I hear this is the start of a seventeen-month storyline, at the end which I’m guessing the Walkers will be reunited, not that our hero has any way of knowing this, since he doesn’t read the trade press. I mostly just want to point out the implication of the final panel, which is that the creepy cave shaped like a human skull with a terrifying, yawning mouth used to denote good happy fun times for the Phantom and his kids.

Crankshaft, 11/7/09

Crankshaft’s awful yuppie neighbor exists mainly to make Crankshaft look vaguely sympathetic and it’s kind of working here today. Jeez, the old guy’s proud of finally learning the names of all the Canadian provinces and territories, OK? Does it cost you anything to let him finish?

Beetle Bailey, 11/7/09

You know, we all poke fun at the cancer in Funky Winkerbean, but for my money the most depressing things in the comics are the Beetle Bailey strips about how General Halftrack needs to drink himself into a stupor because he hates his wife so much. Dear everyone who can’t get enough booze-soaked marital discord in the paper: Have you tried watching Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? It’s like this, but good!

Post Content

Luann, 11/2/09

Have you guys heard about the new Lars van Trier movie, Antichrist? In the opening sequence, a couple known only as “He” and “She” (played by Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg) get it on in sexy black-and-white slo-mo, and while they are so distracted, their little son climbs out the window and falls to his death. They are tortured by this, psychologically, and later literally! According to rumors on the Internets (and stop reading if you’re some kind of Lars van Trier aficionado or something), there is extensive genital mutilation along the way to the horrifying ending.

Anyway, nothing I’ve heard about this movie has caused me to change my opinion that Lars van Trier is a loathsome sadist, but upon reading this strip I can begin to see the appeal of such a plot line. If you’ll allow me to project: Brad and Toni engage in intimate congress on the couch the moment TJ leaves on his onion run; against all of our expectations about Brad, it lasts longer than seven minutes; TJ’s risotto (his “baby”) is burned (“killed”); TJ returns and crushes Brad’s testicles with a block of wood. This will all be part of a long-range and ultimately successful strategy to make TJ the strip’s most sympathetic character.

Spider-Man, 11/2/09

And speaking of characters for whom we should or should not harbor sympathy, have we mentioned lately that Spider-Man is an self-centered douchebag? Here is his latest scheme: he wants to convince Sandman, whom he defeated in super-combat some time ago and who has since gone straight, to engage in simulated combat in New York, so he can photograph it and sell said photographs to the Daily Bugle. Never mind the damage this will do to Sandman’s already dodgy reputation; our theoretical protagonist isn’t even bothering to pay the poor guy for his trouble! We are left to wonder who’s the worst offender: Spider-Man, for demanding that Sandman go along with his journalistic hoax, or Bigshot, for kidnapping Sandman’s daughter and threatening to harm her unless Sandman robs a bank. OK, sure, promising harm to little girls is pretty bad, but consider the fact that Bigshot is a comically preening villain named “Bigshot,” who is almost certainly constitutionally incapable of better, whereas Spider-Man is, ostensibly, a hero. Or at least he was until this week! Maybe this is the Spider-Man newspaper strip’s attempt to wade into Alan Moore-style moral ambiguity, which ought to be extremely hilarious.

Gil Thorp, 11/2/09

“I’m 5-5, Valerie. I’m easy to miss! Especially because you’re, what, seven feet tall? Eight? Is volleyball even challenging to you? Argh, no, don’t step on me!”

Mary Worth, 11/2/09

Meanwhile, in one of those “Gift of the Magi”-type things, Adrian has decided that, to live in solidarity with her comatose beloved who will never be able to perceive this beautiful world again, she will be disabling all of her senses as well. Scott is opening his eyes just as Adrian is in the process of ripping out hers.

Pluggers, 11/2/09

Thank goodness, the plugopalypse has been averted! Unfortunately the use of the elitist neologism “snail mail” will only cause further problems for our overburdened postal system, as the official Pluggers P.O. box becomes encrusted with slime from all the actual snails mailed in by confused pluggers everywhere.