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Slylock Fox, 3/5/07

Wow, so Slylock Fox is keeping with its overall mystery theme, but seems to have moved from cutesy Encyclopedia Brown-type mysteries to late night Cinemax “erotic thriller”-type mysteries. This shift can probably be attributed to the hiring of the sexy Cassandra Cat, who featured in a previous disturbingly adult installment of the feature. What really ups the squik factor me, honestly, is not merely Cassandra’s bound state, or even the fact that she really was tied up by a “friend”; no, it’s Slylock and Max’s creepy, expressionless, voyeuristic stares. You sort of get the feeling that they’ve been halfway into that window for a while now.

By the way, I didn’t even notice the goldfish, thrashing around on the floor as it dies slowly, until I read the solution to the puzzle. So thanks for making me contemplate that little horror in the midst of this perversion, Mr. Omniscient Upside-Down Slylock Fox Narrator.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/5/07

I’m not sure what Herb’s expression in the final panel is supposed to indicate: that he’s reveling in squinty-eyed glee at his own lame internal joke, or that he’s taking a dump in his pants. Frankly, both scenarios would provide him with roughly equal amounts of dignity.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 3/5/07

I don’t really have a ton to say about today’s TDIET, except that “Richard Kahane” is none other than faithful reader and occasional commentor Obélix, who scores points for actually making his entry comics-related. Comics Curmudgeon readers have now supplied four or five TDIETs over the past year or so, which may say something about what percentage of this feature’s readership we make up.

Spider-Man, 3/5/07

Sadly, today’s thrilling remote control nabbing makes panel two the most exciting moment in Spider-Man in several weeks. Still, it’s nice to see that Brendan Fraser is still getting work.

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Mark Trail, 1/23/07

Hmm … “Mark, this is Dick … the beaver we trapped is back!” Oh, close enough. Welcome back into my heart, you crazy beavers! All is forgiven!

I love Mark’s goofy, heavy-lidded grin in the final panel. “Yeah, that Dick … he’ll shoot a beaver, all right … no warning … those kids should be worried … he’d shoot the kids too … Rusty and … the other one … the little girl … what’s her name … oh, Christ, I am so wasted.”

Gil Thorp, 1/23/07

Ah, it’s another fabulous Gil Thorp crowd scene, this time brought to you by M.C. Escher. The Lady Mudlarks’ five fans are in full effect, showing their apathetic love in the center of the yawning, featureless abyss that is the Milford gymnasium. Lisa’s mom, who is usually right, apparently thinks that only her patented wacky Mussolini impression will get this crowd fired up. That having failed, in panel two she manages to bend the nature of reality itself, and Blondie McBuzzcut looks up in confused terror as she manages to get her arm in front of his face in defiance of ordinary spatial dynamics.

Speaking of panel two, Person Of Indeterminate Gender Wearing A Fur-Trimmed Jacket And Hat Even Though He Or She Is Inside is back! It’s good to see that Lady Mudlark fever is chronic, if not infectious.

I might be more hip to the nuances of the thrilling “But…” in panel three if I were more intimately acquainted with the meanings of high school basketball referee hand signals. But all in all, I’m pretty glad I’m not.

Spider-Man, 1/23/07

Spidey’s been in the midst of a wholly uncharacteristic crime-fighting spree this week, but don’t worry: it’s just a cover-up for his usual whiny marital angst. I’m not sure how you pronounce “?”, but I can guess why he’s trying; I don’t think any member of the actual criminal element has used the phrase “plugged nickel” in, well, ever.

Pluggers, 1/23/07

No. No. If some aspect of being a plugger is contingent on being literate, then … everything I know about how the world works is meaningless.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/14/07

Well, now we know how Eric Mills has managed to claw his way to the top of New York’s ultracompetitve art world. Suckers spend all their time carefully wooing temperamental geniuses in the hopes that they’ll create another Guernica, another Thinker, a work that will make their reputation echo down the ages. Eric instead finds some moderately talented striver, then dangles the prospect of fame in front of her eyes and orders her to churn out paintings by the gross. He seeks nothing less than to be the Wal-Mart of the art world, complete with slave labor. I’m guessing the “gallery” where Lu Ann’s masterpieces will be displayed is a conference room in a Holiday Inn on the New Jersey Turnpike, and that the ad copy for the “show” will rely heavily on the phrase “starving artist quality at starving artist prices.”

Spider-Man, 1/14/07

In a particularly egregious Sunday-weekday comics coloring mismatch, Saturday’s Caucasian Gay Pirate Porn Star has suddenly been replaced by today’s African-American Actor Who Is Classically Trained But Can Nevertheless Only Find Work As A Cheesy Doo-Rag-Wearing Criminal, circa 1993.