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Family Circus, 9/7/09

While my self-respect demands that I ignore Billy’s patented brand of ME ME ME LOOK AT ME idiocy, I am a little curious about just what sort of adult-time activity he’s interrupting. It appears that Mommy and some of her grown-up friends are hanging around the house decked out in what appear to be low-key hipster housewife togs from 1978-ish. The two non-Keanes look somewhat discomfited by Billy’s appearance, and really, why wouldn’t they be; still, I’d like to believe that there’s something vaguely disreputable going on here, possibly involving objects hidden away in those clunky purses, or clandestine ingredients added to the big mugs of International Coffee so casually balanced on the furniture.

Also, I’m curious as to what these ladies are doing over here at Billy’s bedtime. Shouldn’t they be at home reading fairy-tale stories to their own sleepy broods? (The idea that the Keane parents would be associating with non-breeders is obviously unthinkable.) Perhaps it’s actually 3 p.m., which has been established as Billy’s bedtime due to some combination of strict parenting ideas and his extreme obnoxiousness.

Marvin, 9/7/09

I feel like I’m getting kind of repetitive when it comes to Marvin, and I promise to stop the moment it stops serving up nightmare visions that turn my stomach. This strip at least demonstrates a sort of interesting visual effect, which is that all the cues that we associate with cute, adorable babies — grossly oversized heads, short, stubby limbs, a proportionally wider torso — become awful and terrifying when the baby in question is blown up to adult size. The vision of the monstrous Marvin-troll, the same height as his mother but at least three times the mass, with a grossly oversized head and eyes the size of baseballs, is so shocking that it allows us to ignore the even more unsettling fact that he’s berating his mother for dressing all slutty.

Spider-Man, 9/7/09

Since Spider-Man has no super-speed abilities, I question how much safer anyplace he could take MJ to within “seconds” might be. “Sorry, Logan. Had to take the lady to safety by putting her on top of that five-foot-tall pile of boxes inside the same building or place where we’re standing now. Is it a warehouse? I forget. Anyway, you can see her right over there. Let’s wave to her from down here, where it’s ever so much more dangerous!”

Jumble, 9/7/09

I originally read the rather compressed dialogue in today’s Jumble cartoon as “Now they can enjoy their food without sweating.” Because the toxic pesticides these pilots have sprayed all over the picnic tables will cause all of the parkgoers’ pores to close up, a few minutes before their nervous systems just shut down altogether.

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B.C., 9/1/09

Since Johnny Hart’s death, B.C. has spent significantly less time dwelling on evangelical Christianity, and, in a perhaps not unrelated development, more time dwelling on infidelity and the suggestions of infidelity. Today’s strip is kind of interesting in a narrative-theory sense in that it features the ant family characters — “features” in a very loose sense, as none of them are actually portrayed. We see only word balloons emerging from exterior of their anthill home, itself so stylized as to be unrecognizable outside the context of the strip; I’d have to assume that, unless you were a regular B.C. reader, the whole thing would be completely incomprehensible. Still, there is a certain perhaps accidental bit of visual interest, particularly in the silent penultimate panel, in which the absence of dialogue forces you to contemplate the rather phallic nature of this anthill of lies, just at the moment when the she-ant is coming to grips with her spouse’s inability or unwillingness to control the wandering of his own sexual organs.

Momma, 9/1/09

As ever, Momma is significantly less subtle. Momma wants to make sure that her sister knows that Francis is a man-whore, not a he-prostitute.

Jumble, 9/1/09

Meanwhile, these poor Jumble folks suffer from a (possibly drug-induced) paranoia so powerful that it’s negatively affecting their sex life. The hubby plans to keep wearing his slippers throughout their carefully planned sex act, to prevent prying eyes from seeing his toes.

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Jumble, 8/25/09

I’ve been doing this blog for (ye gods) more than five years now, and in that time I’ve learned that cartoonists are charming, funny, wonderful people who are incredibly good-natured and have a sense of humor about what I do here, even if I’m cruelly mocking their life work. This is true of the ones who contact me, at least; there may in fact be dozens of comics artists out there seething at my scorn, but they have yet to start hurling bricks through my window. Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that some comics artists actually go out of their way to ask why I don’t make fun of them, and among those people is Jumble artist Jeff Knurek (whose last name always looks to me like a Jumble clue, but I digress). Although I have noted this feature a couple of times in the past (drawing zoophilic perversions always helps you get into this blog), I have submitted to his urgings and am now approaching his puzzle comic anew! Anyway, today’s comic proves that Mr. Knurek has sadly confused “astrologer” with “low-rent Elvis impersonator,” and “crystal ball” with “ball of yarn.”

Reading the Jumble also reminds me of the fact that it makes me feel stupid, because I’m not actually smart enough/don’t have the attention span to solve the puzzle, ever. Crosswords I love, but my brain stubbornly refuses to rearrange word scrambles into the correct configuration. Thus, I’m always getting the joke a day late and out of context, since I do read the answers faithfully. In that regard, I feel obliged to point out that “MIRTH SKIMP CROTCH PENURY” seems to tell a delightful little tale about wasting all your money on prostitutes.

Ziggy, 8/25/09

How much abuse does Ziggy take in his titular comic-panel? It’s unquantifiable, but it’s a lot. Today’s installment includes a common Ziggy stance, in which our hero twists his little hat nervously while being berated just for being Ziggy (in this case, by the main character from the recent Pixar hit Up, slumming). You don’t see Ziggy actually wearing his hat very often, but you do see him clutching at it anxiously quite a bit; it seems to mostly serve as a prop for his pathetic cringing. The fact that he has props for his pathetic cringing goes a long way towards explaining why Ziggy’s abuse elicits more vague disgust than sympathy.

Family Circus, 8/25/09

Good lord, it’s a very bad sign for the blackout violence to start at such a young age. It looks like Dolly’s going to have to be chained up in the basement with the other four Keane Kids you never hear about.

Apartment 3-G, 8/25/09

Oh, yeah, you know what helps alleviate the grief? GRIEF SEX! [insert porn “bown chicka bowp bown” music here]

Judge Parker, 8/25/09

Oh, yeah, you know what helps alleviate the pain of minor injuries? MINOR INJURY SEX! [insert porn “bown chicka bowp bown” music here]

Ha ha, just kidding, obviously. If you saw some fiendish hell-demon crawling towards you with a sexy woman’s body and a yawning inky black emptiness where its face should be, you wouldn’t start unbuttoning your shirt to reveal your heaving bosom; you’d run screaming into the woods, severe ankle sprain be damned.