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Mary Worth, 11/30/09

At last, the long, dragged-out saga of Adrian and Scott and Adrian’s Hesitation To Love and Scott’s Many Bullet Wounds is over. (And how did you do in faithful reader 8th Man Fan’s pool? See the results online here, or download them in an OpenOffice or Microsoft Excel spreadsheet!) As is the style of this feature, the details of the new story will emerge at a Charterstone Pool Party, and I’m very excited to see that said new story will involve Mary’s long-neglected neighbor Wilbur Weston, who, for an extra added bonus, has just had his heart ripped from his sweaty, hairy chest (metaphorically), as his girlfriend has skipped town without him. I’m guessing that Mary is oh-no-ing not because Wilbur is sad (as Wilbur’s sadness is hilarious), but rather because, as Charterstone’s resident manager, she was supposed to make sure that Iris hadn’t trashed her apartment before leaving in the dead of night, as one might be prone to do after God knows how many months in a relationship with Wilbur Weston.

Anyhoo, today’s strip is quite satisfying not just because it presages Wilbur’s long-term humiliation, but because it features Ian Cameron in his most outrageous pool party outfit yet. He pays a lot in condo fees and works hard reading years-old lecture notes on Robert Burns to bored undergraduates, damn it, and he deserves to unwind a little, and if that means matching up a Hawaiian shirt, electric blue cargo shorts, white socks, and (invisible, but a pretty safe bet) Birkenstocks, then so be it. Toby has put on her most bland off-pink shirt-dress to make sure that nothing outshines her husband’s aggressive sartorial choices.

Wizard of Id, 11/30/09

Speaking of hirsute humanoids, today’s Wizard of Id contains what I’m pretty sure is another instance of a legacy strip forgetting its own gimmick. Perpetual prisoner Spook, I have always assumed, is portrayed as hairy because he’s been in a dank jail cell, forgotten by the outside world, for decades, and has never been allowed any kind of razor or scissors to cut his hair or otherwise groom himself because he might use them to commit suicide and end his torment. This strip, however, seems to imply that he’s not just someone with long, matted hair, but is rather a member of a particularly hairy hominid species; perhaps his detention is not a result of some long-ago act defined as a crime by Id’s repressive regime, but was dictated by racial purity laws that keep his kind out of the public’s sight. It may be that he is in fact the last of his race, which makes his request for the depiction of a comely she-Spook all the more poignant.

Mark Trail, 11/30/09

Oh, and speaking of soap strips changing storylines, usually in the transition between Mark Trail plots, Mark briefly revisits Lost Forest and spends a few days avoiding his wife’s marital advances before going out on another moronic assignment. Therefore, I’m assuming that what Rusty is warning Mark to LOOK OUT for in eight-gazillion point font is Cherry lying in wait on the side of the road in her attempt to sex-ambush him. On the other hand, they are near the ocean, so it’s possible that their car is coming under attack from a flock of vicious flying squid.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/30/09

Oh look, Peter the Sex Chameleon has made an appearance! He’s normally blond when interacting with his similarly fair wife, but can darken up when necessary to woo a raven-haired beauty. And now that he has encountered a rival for his wife’s affection, his hair has turned red, for anger! Tim’s going to need those throttling-and-punching skills soon enough.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/30/09

Funky is leading Les down into the basement so that he can feed him into the meat grinder and serve him as pepperoni on Montoni’s awful pizzas. Thus Funky Winkerbean’s feel-good holiday storyline begins!

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Funky Winkerbean, 6/11/09

You know, as this week goes on, I’m really starting to feel a sort of admiration for Funky Winkerbean for really distilling its core mood of grim whimsy (or “grimsy,” as I like to think of it) into as pure and concentrated a form as possible. Let’s do a quick review of each day’s themes:

• Monday: “I miss my dead wife so much. Sometimes I fantasize that she’s still here, talking to me, in the places that were meaningful to us while she was alive.”
• Tuesday: “I used to think that I could choose my destiny, but as I age, I realize that the events that most shape my life are those that I cannot control or anticipate.”
• Wednesday: “My wife died.” “My father is dying.”
• Thursday: “My body is falling apart.”

In fact, it’s gotten so intense that it’s spread (“metastasized,” some might say”) to other comic strips!

Wizard of Id, 6/11/09

Life is one vast prison cell, my friends! Those who are actually in jail at least have the advantage of knowing that they are in chains. The rest of us stumble through this existence, shackled by ennui, feeling that there must be something more than this but unable to imagine what that might be — and the only release from this prison is death.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 6/11/09

Of course, we all know that whining ponderously about one’s mortality is a luxury of the comfortable elites. Those hard-working real Americans in Hootin’ Holler don’t got time for none of that! Here we see that local coot “Grandpaw” just uses the looming specter of death as an incentive for thrift.

Herb and Jamaal, 6/11/09

But it’s Herb and Jamaal that really shows us the way to cheeriness. “I may be getting old, but I don’t feel old, and do you know why? Because I’m young enough to keep doing it! That’s right, you don’t have time to dwell on the aging process when you’re gettin’ it regular. Truly, a steady stream of casual sexual partners is a veritable fountain of youth!”

(Seriously, can anyone tell me what the punchline of this strip is actually supposed to mean? Because, much as I would approve, I don’t think “doing it” means “doing it.”)

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Mary Worth, 6/8/09

As I demanded, so has it been done: POOL PARTY! You don’t know what it’s been like, knowing from your comments that a pool party was in progress but forced to toil on other more lucrative projects rather than enjoy my comics-stories. Now that I’m here, though, it’s pretty darn awesome. Ian is, as one would expect, resplendent in his fuzzy electric blue jacket, and Mary is sporting a kicky black jumper. But I’m most intrigued by the pair of gents in white shirts and high-waisted pants. The dark-haired fellow in panel one, wearing khaki pants and a t-shirt, is posing as if hoping to be discovered by the manager of a low-end clothing catalog. But in panel two, we catch a glimpse, obscured behind Toby’s word balloon blather, of sandy-haired character in baby blue slacks and a luminous polo shirt. Will their eyes meet across the crowded courtyard? Will they chat about how difficult it is to find belts that are the exact same color as one’s pants, and will romance blossom? STAY TUNED!

Speaking of blossoming romance, what are we to make of Toby’s awkward “I loved how she and her husband got together”? My question hinges on the use of “how.” In many cases in casual conversation, “how” simply means “the fact that” (i.e., “I love how Mary is drinking wood-grain alcohol through a straw”), and thus Toby’s statement conveys nothing more than bland approval for a successful coupling. But if “how” is taken to mean “the way in which,” then we must presume there is some sort of meet-cute backstory here (hopefully to be conveyed in ham-handed flashback form). If that’s the case, we may learn that this storyline’s lesson will be the same as the last’s: that the only marriages that last are those in which the groom is selected by the bride’s father from the families of his close associates.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/8/09

Boy, I sure lost interest in this Rex Morgan storyline, didn’t I? If you haven’t been following along, take my word for it that it’s been extremely dull and not even a little bit gay. I admit to being amused by panel one here, though, in which formerly eager-to-please (and formerly black) Guido Tomas rages histrionically upon being revealed as a human trafficker. I think “I am the second officer!” is a somewhat funny thing to yell if you’re pulling the “Don’t you know who I am” card. “Unhand me! My authority derives from the Law of the Sea, and from a bankrupt cruise line! Look, my uniform has epaulets and yours do not! Does that not make it clear that I am of higher status than you?”

Gil Thorp, 6/8/09

Could anything be more pleasing than the final panel in today’s Gil Thorp, in which the sweaty, exhausted Mudlarks collapse and/or vomit onto to the outfield in exhaustion? I suppose it could be topped if the next several days consist of panel after wordless panel of the scene of carnage, with unconscious teenagers flopped pell-mell everywhere, like the famous crane shot of Confederate wounded in Gone With The Wind, and then the next two years are taken up with Gil and the school board defending themselves in the massive lawsuit that will inevitably follow.

Archie, 6/8/09

Insulated from consequences and separated from the common herd by his Croesus-like wealth, Mr. Lodge has gone mad with power and begun conducting experiments on human subjects to satisfy his idle curiosity. “I wonder if this cholesterol medication has been approved by the FDA?” “The pills sure look effective, don’t they? Why not try eight or twelve and see what happens?”

Family Circus, 6/8/09

Generally speaking, if you crush a child’s sense of fun and whimsy early, the transition to white-collar drudgery is significantly less traumatic.

Pluggers, 6/8/09

A plugger’s night on the town could unfold in pretty much exactly the same sequence, at exactly the same stores and restaurants, in any town in America, which is kind of depressing.

Wizard of Id, 6/8/09

Ha ha! It’s funny because prisoners receive substandard health care!