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Apartment 3-G, 9/18/06

OK, look at the swivel lines in panel three, and compare to Margo’s head position in panel two. Either Margo briefly looked away from Lu Ann, then swung her head back to look at her in a classic doubletake that I feel very cheated for being denied (maybe she indignantly sprayed her coffee across the room at the same time?) or her head has spun completely around on its axis, Exorcist-style. Hell hath no fury like a Hat Man lover scorned!

Also: a stripey purple V-neck under a mauve vest is “dressing up” now? I sure didn’t get that memo.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/18/06

I love the fact that the patented TDIET-style outrage is being wielded entirely on the side of the couple who shuns personal interaction in favor of the warm, numbing glow of the television set. “Didjaevernotice: People invite you over to spend some quality time with ya … and insist on talking to you while the TV is on! Wha-a-a-a?”

Popeye, 9/18/06

I know I don’t talk about Popeye very much, but you should be kept appraised of the fact that it’s completely demented. There’s been this long, meandering “generation gap” storyline involving Sweetpea insisting that adults don’t understand him (don’t trust anyone over seven, man!), which, other than the fact that Sweetpea can apparently talk, didn’t faze me too much. But then he ran away from home, and Popeye was disconsolate, and Olive Oyl made a fake Sweetpea doll too fool Popeye and it worked. Today’s deranged strip pretty much speaks for itself in terms of how far around the bend this feature has gone, sort of the way a crazy homeless guy who’s constantly raving about OJ and the CIA and killer monkeys speaks for himself.

Hi and Lois, 9/18/06

My wife says that the joke here is that the baby doesn’t understand irony, but I don’t think that’s possible, because Hi and Lois doesn’t understand irony either.

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They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/9/06

Wow, check out the lower panel here: Ol’ Foghorn looks like he’s about ready to slap his wife around for suggesting a little home improvement. The way terrified little Foghorn Junior is clinging to his mom implies that he knows what’s coming and that this isn’t the first time dad has turned nasty. Presumably Foghorn Pater’s literally violent aversion to any change in his domestic scene explains the William McKinley-era aesthetic sensibility on display in the Foghorn household. The other attendees at the town meeting may feel that Fred (oh, I’m sorry, that’s “Ferd”) dominates civic discussion with his high-minded blather, but he clearly dominates his family in a much, much uglier way.

Apartment 3-G, 9/9/06

AAARGGH! DISCUSSION OF YOUR MARRIAGE COUNSELING SESSIONS: NOT SEXY! NOT GOING TO GET YOU LAID! ABORT, TED, ABORT!

If you’re a marriage counselor, I’ve got to imagine that the moment when one of your clients throws her infidelity in the face of her husband has got to be kind of a professional low point.

Beetle Bailey, 9/9/06

Ha ha! It’s funny because Sarge beat Beetle so savagely that many of his bones were shattered, leaving him hospitalized and in traction for months! He’ll be lucky if he ever walks again! Ha ha!

Seriously, Beetle Bailey is really fucked up.

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Sally Forth and Peanuts, 9/2/06

It’s never particularly fair to compare any comic to Peanuts, but I was struck by the convergence of Ted’s team snatching defeat from the jaws of victory with one of the earlier Charlie-Brown’s-baseball-team-are-losers storylines. This strip again goes to show how routinely Peanuts was probably the bleakest thing not just on the comics pages, but in the entire newspaper. Ted at least is directing his rage outward in an emotionally healthy manner. Presumably the tears and self-recrimination will happen later.

Gil Thorp, 9/2/06

More interesting than the dating etiquette of Milford High students is … well, anything, really, but I’m thinking here of Marty Moon’s sad little face in panel two. “Hey guys, I thought maybe the three of us could hang out … guys? Oh, um, that’s OK, I’ll just go back to my car … I have some booze … I’ll be fine…”

If you’re wondering how Von and Mandy managed to save Marty’s bacon … Ben Franklin figured out pretty quickly that the two of them were pulling some elementary scam, was impressed by their moxie, and cut Moon’s $5,000 debt down to $500. No, I don’t understand it either.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/3/06

Note that Lugbutt and his bartender are totally capable of speaking in complete sentences, but that he and his doctor communicate entirely in a disconnected series of proper nouns. For me, the ironic reversal would have been much better if he and the sawbones had spent the whole visit talking about booze. “Beer … malt liquor … scotch … vomiting … rum … cirrhosis of the liver … vodka … etc …”