Post Content

Hi and Lois, 10/18/10

The Flagstons may be the comics’ blandest suburban family, which is why they work so well as a vessel for commentaries on bland suburban life. That’s also why it’s so exciting to see the strip go knee-deep into madness, as a bug-eyed, crazy-grinning Lois stares rapturously at the silent television. The sheer size of this flat-screen monstrosity adds to the weirdness. Is Lois desperately attempting to reach out to a different form of spirituality, but still held back by her materialistic worldview? “I’d never be able to meditate so effectively if we hadn’t sprung for the 52-inch hi-def model, honey!”

Dick Tracy, 10/18/10

You probably thought that Dick Tracy could never top last week’s crazed hobo fight with money flying everywhere. But today’s strip, in which deceased radio personality Wolfman Jack informs a local beat cop that a Code 469, or “ruckus,” is in progress nearby, is pretty awesome too. The police officer is far enough away to not have heard the ruckus first-hand and there are still visible thousand dollar bills floating through the air, which really takes the concept of “making it rain” to a new level.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/18/10

Snuffy has always been depicted in the strip as a particularly diminutive feller, no doubt a result of the incredibly poor nutrition he received growing up dirt poor in Hootin’ Holler, so I’m not sure if his cellmate is supposed to be some freakish giant or merely of normal human proportions. Nevertheless, it’s good to see the two are getting on so jovially together and haven’t attempted to shiv one another with their time-hash-markin’ crayons.

Funky Winkerbean, 10/18/10

Oh, hey, did you think that nothing could make Funky Winkerbean’s inexplicable Les-centered love triangle any grosser? How about turning it into a love square? Damn it, we’re just going to keep adding women who want to comfort poor sad wounded emotionally stunted creepy creepster Les until you start believing it.

Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 10/17/10

Sunday Beetle Baileys are notorious for being flabby and shapeless, with an absence of rhythm that guarantees that any possible fun is sucked out of it, but today’s is pretty much one of the worst I’ve seen. I’m not buying the idea that Beetle, who typically can’t even be bothered to push his hat out of his face, has suddenly developed a love for American Revolution trivia. And the weird ritualistic baseball/”surrender” exchange has so little payoff — one would expect that Beetle would use Sarge’s surrender to get out of work, or beatings, somehow — that Sarge is absolutely right to look as bored as he does. About all this strip has going for it is the reminder that Miss Buxley’s little black dress is actually a little red dress, colored black for the demands of the black-and-white daily strips that we increasingly often see colorized.

Family Circus, 10/17/10

Look, Jeffy, here in America we watch TV five hours a day. If you can’t hack it, maybe you should go to Communist Russia, where they’ll let you read books or some garbage like that.

My Cage, 10/17/10

This is getting a bit self-indulgent, but I did want to make sure that Curmudgeon readers who got shout-outs here and who rely on the no-Sunday Strips Houston Chronicle for their comics got to see their names in lights. What I want to know is, why no animal-style names for us? I dare you to come up with an animal-pun version of “Fruhlinger.”

Post Content

Slylock Fox, 10/16/10

Oh, hi, kids, while you’re busy trying to remember which organs participate the digestive process, this doctor and nurse are just going to look on in undisguised horror at something at the back of this poor man’s throat. Whatever it is must be truly and spectacularly large, as the nurse can apparently see it from across the room. Is it the biggest tumor either of these longtime medical professionals have ever seen? Is it a glowing sac of alien eggs dangling from his uvula? Or maybe it’s not something visible — maybe it’s the awful stench of death evident on his breath. Whatever the case, when I see expressions like this on the faces of health practitioners, I expect the subject to be immediately placed in an isolation chamber and whisked away to a secret NSA lab by top government scientists.

Popeye, 10/16/10

I generally only mention Popeye here when produces something that’s hilarious out of context, and I think today’s meeting of old acquaintances (and former lovers?) “Poopdeck Pappy” and “Tuna Salad” fits the bill.

Mark Trail, 10/16/10

Wow, I was all worked up about some discrepancies in adherence hunting safety rules in yesterday’s Mark Trail, but now that our hero has covered twenty yards or more, leaping over a fence in the process, and hurled himself directly in front of someone who’s about to fire a rifle, I now know that safety is quite obviously the last thing on anybody’s mind here. Carry on, lunatics!