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Archie, 1/30/13

OK, when it comes to “what year are the Archie reruns from, and what weird violence has been done to the text and art to make them seem vaguely contemporary,” I … I don’t even know anymore? Like, obviously there’s some kind of chronological discontinuity going on here, or else why would Veronica, in a public place, call Archie “on his cell” from what appears to be a wall-mounted pay phone? And yet nothing about the joke makes sense if Archie doesn’t have a portable phone-type device on him. My guess is that in the original version of the strip Archie had a pager, which puts the date probably in the late-ish ’90s. Because there was this whole trend of kids having pagers then, right? Am I remembering that correctly? Or maybe Archie is a drug dealer? And this is why Reggie didn’t sell out Archie immediately, as he normally would, because now he and Archie and Jughead are in a drug gang? The least terrifying drug gang in America?

Gil Thorp, 1/30/13

Have you ever looked at your hand? Like, really looked at your hand? Like, really examined all the weird nubs and fleshy protuberances, and imagined high-fiving someone with an identically freaky hand, big paws just slapping all meatily together, and gone into a gibbering fit where you want nothing so much as to saw your hands off at the wrist, so you never have to look at them again?

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Shoe, 1/29/13

I originally saw this strip a sort of sad commentary on aging. The surface joke prompts us to imagine notorious outlaw Billy the Kid — whose very name marks him as one of those figures who will remain forever young by virtue of an early death — as a stooped, doddering old man. Similarly, it must be the case that the Perfesser was, at one point in his life, young and vital, and yet now he slouches in his easy chair, his failing eyesight forcing him to sit far too close to the television, his living room strewn with garbage. But then I thought: maybe all the newspapers on the floor are somehow related to his bird-man nature? You know, because humans line the floor of birdcages with newspaper? For birds to poop on? Screw meditations on old age, I just want the strip to acknowledge that its characters are birds, just once, just once.

Crankshaft, 1/29/13

Speaking of old people, here’s Crankshaft shitting on his friend’s hobby, just to be a jerk.

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Family Circus, 1/28/13

Ma and Pa Keane — and, for that matter, Billy — are suspiciously absent in this filthy, ill-mannered breakfast scene, in which Jeffy is balancing his toast on his knee, Dolly is emitting some kind of fluid from her left arm, and PJ is just stone cold rubbing his ass on the table. Where are the elders? Have they and their tyranny finally been overthrown bloodily by the younger half of the Keane Kompound’s population? Is the “morning” on which this breakfast is being eaten actually a metaphorical new dawn of freedom, and it’s really 5:30 p.m., because now nobody can stop Dolly, Jeffy, and PJ from eating whatever they want whenever they want?

Herb and Jamaal, 1/28/13

Oh, Herb and Jamaal, you’ve had more than eight years to think about what you’ve done wrong, and still haven’t figured it out.

Pluggers, 1/28/13

You know, I live only a few blocks form one of the U.S.’s most competitive universities and see smart, upscale young students going to the store or to restaurants in their pajamas pretty much daily, so this isn’t just a plugger thing. It is true that pluggers are incapable of figuring out how to set up Netflix, though.