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Wizard of Id, 3/16/10

One of the interesting things about legacy comics is that over the years the edges slowly wear off their high concepts. So, for instance, Hagar the Horrible is a savage Viking chief, but he spends more time bickering with his wife than he does raiding a hapless Europe, and when he does go marauding it’s all done in the most ritualized and bloodless way. Beetle Bailey is in the army, but he’ll never be ordered to shoot anyone or put himself into a position to be shot at, nor will he ever be hauled before a court martial for his various violations of military discipline.

The Wizard of Id is one of several characters, like Funky Winkerbean and the late Kudzu, who found themselves muscled out of the spotlight of the strips ostensibly named after them, and, well, I guess I’ve never really thought of him as all that “dark.” I mean, I suppose he is the royal wizard for a king who routinely tortures his citizens and imprisons them for years without trial, but for the past several decades his powers have mostly been put to use conjuring up minor ghosts and irritating his wife. I dunno, I guess I just expect more malice out of my dark wizards. Another modern punk kid ruined by Harry Potter!

Mary Worth, 3/16/10

If we want more proof of Kurt’s complete insanity, we should look no further than panel two. If I had been shown a picture of some demon nerd, his eyes glowing the most intense and evil brown, attempting to yank off a lock of young Teri Garr’s hair for who knows what foul purpose, I would have wanted nothing to do with him, yet Kurt actively sought him out! There’s nothing such a person wouldn’t be capable of!

In panel one, we see the final stage of Wilbur’s feeding process. Having crammed an entire sandwich down his gullet with a single shove, he’s now keeping his hand in place over his mouth to make sure it doesn’t come back out. When Wilbur eats a sandwich, it stays eaten (most of the time).

Family Circus, 3/16/10

“So why don’t you let me hold on to these, dearies, while I keep them safe for you down at the greyhound track?”

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Slylock Fox, 2/15/10

Oh, look, Rachel Rabbit is moving up in the world! No longer is she renting the double-wide next to Reeky Rat down at the trailer park; now she’s living in a squalid apartment building, and has apparently started billing herself as “Mrs. Rabbit,” as if Wanda Witch and the other apartment-dwellers care about the legitimacy of her little bunny. But one thing that hasn’t changed is that she’s a pretty irritating neighbor; before she was tattling on Reeky and his ’lectricity-stealin’ ways, and now’s she’s complaining about noise. Those magic spells are too loud for your precious little baby, Rachel? I’m sure living downstairs from the little squaller is no picnic either, considering that your main childcare technique involves turning up the volume on the television. If you need any more proof that Wanda is actually a quite courteous and thoughtful neighbor, note that she’s hovering around the place on her broomstick rather than disturbing those downstairs by clomping about in her high heels.

Anyway, Sly’s exasperated expression seems to indicate that he’s rethinking his plan to volunteer his spare time with the neighborhood mediation center.

Wizard of Id, 2/15/10

Only the Wizard of Id dares to speak the politically incorrect truth: by dedicating a holiday to romantic love, we are starting down a path that leads inexorably towards chicken-fucking.

Pluggers, 2/15/10

Oh, what makes you think he went to first grade, li’l plugger? Gramps is wearing the sly smile of the crafty illiterate.

Crankshaft, 2/15/10

“No, but seriously, I lost all the club’s money at the dog track. What are you broads gonna do about it?”

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Ziggy, 12/18/09

Wow! Like a lot of people, I assumed that Ziggy would make a token response to Pearls Before Swine’s put-pants-on-Ziggy crusade before getting back to the bizarrely optimistic despair that is its stock in trade. But today brings us back to pants, and puts a whole new spin on things! Ziggy is visiting his wizened dry cleaner, who offers to give back the gnomish alopeciac’s trousers — along with his Nehru jacket, a garment that went out of style many years ago. Thus, this panel turns our scorn back upon us. Pants are so out of date, it seems to be saying. Maybe you narrow-minded losers are walking around, your thighs unfairly constricted by fabric tubes; but Ziggy is the new model man, his legs exposed to the open air, as is the style here in the future. You squares with the pants can do what you want. Ziggy won’t be having any of it.

Wizard of Id, 12/18/09

Hurl all the epithets you want at the Wizard of Id — “unfunny,” “irrelevant,” “badly drawn,” “minimizes torture” — but one thing you have to give it credit for is its unflinching attitude towards alcohol. While Hi and Lois, for instance, has gone along to get along, with “Thirsty” Thurston’s gin blossom-scarred nose of old having long ago vanished, the Wizard of Id’s Bung remains on the funny pages as an unrepentant alcoholic, and not the fun, charming kind. Today, for instance, we learn that, in the brief period of time after he awakes from his booze-numbed slumber but before he can stumble down to the bar to start drinking again, his hands are shaking so badly due to the lack of alcohol that he injures himself while attempting to attend to basic grooming. This may shock and horrify you, but anything that leads to awkward conversations along the lines of “Daddy, what’s the DTs?” is OK in my book.

Six Chix, 12/18/09

Speaking of horror, there’s something quite touching about this scene, in which ephemeral snow-lovers trade a last few endearments even as their bodies droop and melt.

Mark Trail, 12/18/09

Sheriff Stogie Q. Doublechin is right! That is a good one! What kind of monster leaves a little boy trapped under a car on the beach? How the hell does a car even get onto a beach on the first place? And would anyone leave a child in the care of this obvious lunatic? No, the sheriff doesn’t think he’ll be following that lead, than you very much. He’ll just stay here with his thumbs hooked into his belt and glare at you there in your cage, mister! Haw haw!

Note just what a state Mark is in, with no less than five hairs somewhat out of place. This is really the most desperate we’ve ever seen him.

Crock, 12/18/09

So, uh, the Lost Patrol, after years of all-male company, has been saved by water and masturbatory fodder? Eh, why not, it’d hardly be the most distasteful Crock ever produced.