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The Phantom, 11/4/07

I’m not a big defense policy expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure the US Air Force is not in the business of handing out free jet fuel to random Vietnam War-era aircraft, no matter how friendly the country is whose flag is painted on the tail. Perhaps Bangalla is willing to turn a blind eye “enhanced interrogation techniques” (likely, if the slap-happy antics of the Unknown Commander are any indication) and demands payment in sweet, sweet petroleum products.

The Phantom NEXT! boxes are pretty generally awesome, but few have brought me as much pleasure as today’s. “Avast, swabbies! Be sure ye be wearing yer film badge dosimeter, lest ye suffer from radiation sickness! Ahhhr!”

Zits and The Middletons, 11/4/07

At last, two Sunday comics that aren’t afraid to admit the hard truth about teenagers: that they’re nothing but barely controlled hormone-soaked lust-beasts. Today’s Zits honestly hits a little too close to home for me, as one of my high school’s guidance counselors was a primary subject in my teenage fantasy life, which I’m sure was also true for most of the other boys and several of the girls. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, in the interests of me having coherent conversations about college application essays), I was assigned the other guidance counselor, who was a avuncular fiftysomething dude, and who was very nice but whose naked lower back I was frankly glad to never see unprompted in my mind’s eye.

Today’s Middletons is an instructional example of how the throwaway panels at the beginning of a strip (so named because some newspapers remove them to make layout easier) can really change the tone of a comic. The complete strip today offers a poignant look at that moment when young people are on the cusp of adulthood, beginning to think of grown-up matters while still clinging to childish things. But the version in my paper started with the “Cool clouds” panel, and thus was basically two teenagers talking about girls they want to bang. On the bright side, Baltimore Sun readers were spared the unsettling undertones of the “do you want to see the frog in my pocket” exchange.

Judge Parker, 11/4/07

Speaking of raging hormones, I’m getting pretty tired of every improbably proportioned female in this strip hurling herself at Sam Driver. His wife I can sort of understand (though you think she’d have given up by now), but what Sam’s got that justifies, say, Trudi lunging at him lips-first in the next-to-last panel is beyond me. It’s like he’s doused himself in some chemical that makes him irresistible to women (“reverse alcohol,” in the memorable formulation of Dinosaur Comics) — not because he wants to seduce them, but because he enjoys rejecting and humiliating them. If I want twisted, passive-aggressive psychodrama in a serial strip, I’ll read Mary Worth, thank you very much.

Spider-Man, 11/4/07

Not being evil myself, I wasn’t aware that a lack of sleepiness was one of the benefits of pledging one’s allegiance to the dark side. Think of all the extra sinister plotting — or, alternately, dusting and laundry — you could do with that extra eight hours a day! It does not, however, come as a big surprise to me that Peter Parker would rather snooze than fight evil.

Hi and Lois, 11/4/07

The creators of Hi and Lois do not appear to understand how and by whom municipal tax rates are set.

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Blondie, 7/10/07

Ah, the dilemma for lady-lovin’ comics readers: if you want to see a Blondie love scene, you have to put up with Dagwood foreplay.

Curtis, 7/10/07

I’ve been deliberately ignoring the Curtis-Michelle drama, as is my wont, but: damn if I don’t want to see this “puppeteer” and his be-afro’d, freakily big-mouthed “puppet” as often as possible. As a regular character, he could replace Gunk, as far as I’m concerned. Or Barry.

Dick Tracy, 7/10/07

See, here’s a strip that’s still got a few tricks up its sleeve. I think we all expected that the “Grandfather” in the tradeoff would really be Dick Tracy in disguise. I don’t think any of us expected that he would peel said disguise off of his face, causing the still-lifelike features to stretch and melt like some kind of peyote-fueled nightmare.

Mark Trail, 7/10/07

OH MY GOD SHE HIT ME IN THE FACE WITH HER FACE

Marmaduke, 7/10/07

And pooping, right? Don’t forget about pooping. You forget about pooping at your own risk. I’ve seen your yard; it’s not that big.

Zits, 7/10/07

Holy crap, is Walt smoking a blunt on the back porch? YOU ARE MY NEW HERO, SIR!

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For Better Or For Worse, 6/3/07

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that, while I don’t find the “Grandpa Jim is horny” strips to be knee-slappingly hilarious or anything, I don’t find them as distasteful as everyone else seems to. Really, no matter who we are, we’re all hopefully going to be old and infirm one day, and will probably be idly ruminating on and/or actively enjoying physical contact with the young and nubile. It’s too bad for Iris that apparently she’s going to have to have a stroke for anyone to touch her. Anyway, it could be a lot worse; we could be subjected to:

• Mike and Dee’s shell-shocked inability to cope with middle-class affluence and terrific dumb luck.
• Liz coming to the insane realization that the Mustache, his hate-spawned daughter, and his basement concentration camp are all she ever wanted in this life.
• April raging at anyone or everyone.

In that light, little interludes like Grandpa’s fantasy life, or Ellie’s sheet-shaving, are positively pleasant.

Zits, 6/3/07

Or, you know, one of Ellie’s kids could be devouring her brain out from the inside. Actually, that might be kind of fun to see.

Family Circus, 6/3/07

Speaking of things that are unpleasant, didya ever know that Big Daddy Keane and his woman used to like to mack on the couch? Betcah didn’t! Betcha didn’t want to in a million, million years! And yet here we are.

In the interest of symmetry, the empty nest version of the couple in the final panel really ought to be making out as well, as we all know that’s what happens when the kids leave the house. Maybe raising four children is so exhausting that they can’t work up the energy. Or maybe they’re thinking, menopause or no, that they’re not taking a chance on another one of those ever happening again.

Hi and Lois, 6/3/07

If after-school specials have taught me anything, it’s that the phrase “He’s cool, right?” in this context means “He will participate in, or at least not inform the relevant authorities about, our illegal drug use/underage drinking, right?” Thus I can’t help but be a little disappointed in the denouement here, and a little disappointed that Ditto isn’t more disappointed.