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Blondie, 2/3/17

Today’s Blondie is a great illustration of how dictatorship is degrading even to the dictator. Here’s Mr. Dithers, having thought up a sick but lyrical burn on his least favorite employee, and all he wants to do is unleash it, you know? Get a genuine laugh out of it. But no, this bald sycophant is terrified of what would happen if he isn’t praising his lord and master at all times, so he just blurts out “nice poetry, boss!” the moment it becomes clear that Dithers is getting a little adventurous with his language. Dithers reacts really the only we he can — by just plowing forward with his cruel little monologue, and acting as if he never even heard his subordinate’s premature praise — but you have to think he feels pretty undermined by how it all played out.

Gil Thorp, 2/3/17

Oh man, it looks like this winter’s Gil Thorp plot is taking on issues of social and economic class in our society! Presumably in order to make a big impression on Tweedle-Dee here Aaron’s dad came to school on career day wearing a top hat and monocole and shouting “I COULD BUY ALL OF YOU CHILDREN AND PUT YOU TO WORK POLISHING MY GOLD IN MY SOUTHEAST ASIAN GOLD-POLISHING SWEATSHOP IF I WANTED TO.” Now, though, just a few years later, Aaron lives in a mildly rundown apartment building. This makes his mom sad, which in turn makes Aaron inconsistent at basketball. If anything, it makes too much sense.

Anyway, in panel two, we see Coach Thorp and Mrs. Coach Thorp and Coach Kaz and Coach Kaz’s girlfriend/hype woman whose name I forget enjoying a delicious meal out at someplace fancy enough to serve wine but in touch with American values enough to serve burgers and fries. That’s America’s meritocratic socioeconomic system in a nutshell right there! Get with the program, panels one and two, with your implication that our class position affects every aspect of our lives!

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/2/17

[looks around anxiously] “Did you hear me? The Morgans are the real heroes here!” [speaking more loudly] “The Morgans! They’re the source of all good in our lives, and in the world! All hail the Morgans! They’re listening right now! [shouting now, really] I WOULD DIE FOR YOU, REX AND JUNE”

Funky Winkerbean, 2/2/17

Remember, kids, you only get to dodge death so many times, and you won’t know the day when your luck runs out until it arrives! Today’s Funky Winkerbean is extremely on brand.

The Phantom, 2/2/17

I may fail to keep you up to date on all the Phantom’s plotlines, but I promise you this: I will never, ever neglect to tell you about a strip that features a lovingly drawn closeup of the Phantom’s ass.

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Six Chix, 2/1/17

I’ve always been fascinated by how cultural images become detached from their origins and eventually become just bits of iconic flotsam in our collective consciousness. Like, skeletons have been associated with death for most of human history, for obvious reasons, but then in the West we started putting a hooded cloak on our skeletal death-figure, and then we started forgetting that our skeletal death-figure had a full body beneath that cloak, as the skull-face faded out of his representation. So that’s how we get cartoons like this, where a dentist is staring into the empty void where a face should be, not seeing flesh or a skull or even the back of a hood, just an infinitely dark emptiness that goes on forever, a yawning portal into the not-life that awaits us after our demise. The dentist seems remarkably unfazed by it, to be honest! Dentists have seen some shit, man.

Pluggers, 2/1/17

There are plenty of Pluggers panels that demonstrate that pluggers feel all the sorts of anxieties the rest of us do, from the financial to the familial to the creeping existential. I have to assume, then, that at some point in this joke’s history, the line was about “plugger performance anxiety.” Get it? Because usually that phrase involves inability to get an erection, but here it’s about peeing in a cup, because pluggers gave up on sex long ago. While usually I endorse complete freedom of expression in the comics, I can’t say I regret an editorial decision that spared innocent newspaper-reading Americans everywhere from thinking about the boners that these downwardly mobile exurban beast-men may or may not have.