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Zits, 11/18/05

There’s an issue that’s been percolating in the comments for some time, but I’ve decided that it’s finally time for me to take a stand on it. And that issue is as follows: Momma Zits’s breasts: What’s the deal with them? I mean, the comics section is full of breasts that could not possibly occur in nature, but at least I understand why those boobs are the way they are: because the artists who draw them are desperately lonely horn-dogs. Momma Zits’s boobs, on the other hand, are just strange and disturbing to me. I suppose that someone out there finds them sexy — there is a lid for every pot, after all — but still … they’re awful … pointy. Like, eye-gougingly pointy. Be careful with the hugging there, Jeremy.

The effect is lost in this colorized version of the strip, but when you see Momma Zits in the paper, her shirt (other than that band around her chest) and her skin are the same color, which makes it look as if she’s wearing some kind of ultra-small tube top. This does not help matters.

Good to see that teenage cruelty has been kicked up a notch since my days bearing the brunt of it: rather than just slap a post-it note on his back, Jeremy’s tormentors actually took the time to scrawl their cruel epithets directly onto his omnipresent purple shirt. Nice.

By the way, I’m well aware of the fact that, unlike most cartoon clans, the Zits family members all have actual first and last names. As usual, I’m just too lazy to look them all up.

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Zits, 7/8/05

You know, a few months ago, Jeremy said he was going to grow his hair out for the summer. As near as I can tell, he’s actually doing it. I mean, obviously I know he’s not a “real” person, but he’s being drawn with shaggier hair.

Really, that’s it. That’s my observation for the day. I think it’s interesting when a comic strip acknowledges change, no matter how slight.

You should be careful, though, Jeremy. I tried growing my hair out once, and that’s when this happened.

Anyway, I also have an entry for the “Does the writer of this comic read this blog?” file. From today’s Curtis:

Remember, if you can’t run for higher ground, it helps if you have a friendly dog to drag you there. Higher ground will also be helpfully labeled as such.

Now that I think about it, based on my theory that the creator of Curtis is a 75-year-old white man, I suppose he’s more likely to read Mark Trail than my blog.

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Zits, 3/17/05

O faithful Comics Curmudgeon readers: the future Mrs. C. and I request your assistance in arbitrating our disagreement about the meaning of this strip. Upon reading it, I identified with the core conflict immediately. I used to be a teenage boy myself (shameful, I know, but undeniably true), and I remember having this precise argument with my mother on numerous occasions. She really didn’t understand why she couldn’t come and go from my room like she did every other room in her house, and I couldn’t quite verbalize why it bothered me so much. I think a lot of being a teenager is about setting boundaries — sometimes overly strong boundaries — about differentiating yourself from your parents, about creating a literal and figurative space for yourself and your personality despite the fact that you’re still dependent on your parents for so many concrete and intangible things. It’s a tension that Zits depicts off pretty well, here and elsewhere, and it’s one of the reasons that, despite a dearth of laugh-out-loud-moments, I like it quite a bit.

My fiancée, meanwhile, thinks this strip is entirely about masturbation. What do you think?

(By the way, I’ve mentioned my betrothed quite a bit here lately, and some might think that she’s been pressuring me to do so. I promise to you that I would never compromise my artistic integrity in any way, even for the love of my life. The plain fact is that I work at home, and sometimes I go 48 or 72 hours without leaving the house, so she’s the only person I talk to other than the voices in my head. Once I start quoting them, you’ll know there’s trouble.)