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Mary Worth, 12/14/09

Mary Worth’s decision to ignore the rich visual storytelling possibilities of Wilbur’s swinging past and instead present us with the soul-crushingly dull visual storytelling possibilities of Wilbur’s chair-bound present persists, to the point that I fear the whole plotline is supposed to be some deliberately reader-hostile piece of avant garde art. Today’s strip captures the electrifying moment that occurs when you get a message from someone who might be your bastard son via Facebook. Wilbur’s canny “Your mother probably would have told me if I had knocked her up” gambit has been deftly parried by a “Yeah, except maybe you did knock her up though” maneuver. In panel two, Wilbur, brow furrowed, carefully plots his next move. As a result, this panel looks like the only thing less visually interesting than somebody playing chess, which is somebody playing metaphorical chess, over the Internet.

Funky Winkerbean, 12/14/09

Now, my first thought upon reading this was “Ah ha, homophobic bullying — the next frontier of Funky Winkerbean-based misery!” But I realized upon reflection that in the Winkerverse it is no doubt literally against the law to refer to a mornin’, or day, or really any time-based interval, as “beautiful,” or to imply in any way that a moment of our existence in this world can or should be enjoyed.

Mark Trail, 12/14/09

Mary Worth may be taking a promising sex scandal story and drowning it in a bathtub full of Wilbur’s typing fingers and serious expressions, but Mark Trail is spinning a pedestrian premise — oh, no, flat tire! — into panel after panel of visual delight. Did this dude just manage to somehow hit Mark in the forehead with a wrench while gripping it from the bottom and standing behind him? Sure, why not?

It’s interesting to note that Mark’s usual total invulnerability to fisticuffs seems to be slipping. Is it possible that, despite all his “oh, it’s for the greater good” talk, Mark’s powers are useless when he’s engaged in anti-social behavior?

Crankshaft, 12/14/09

Today will go down in history as the day that the word “amphetamines” appeared in Crankshaft. I have no idea what if anything this presages, but it makes me simultaneously giddy and uneasy.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/14/09

Aw, little Sarah is learning how to be judgmental! That’s how she was raised, after all. Don’t look sheepish, girl; it’s your birthright.

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Mark Trail, 12/13/09

The hilarious “Rusty in peril” plot dominating the weekday strips prove that Mark Trail has changed its core mission from “wildlife education” to “gleeful sadism.” Today’s installment offers further evidence, as Mark finally seems to acknowledge that Cherry needs to love, and to be loved, before abandoning her to have fun party times with Andy the dog. Much of the rest of the imagery in the strip is allegorical, with the ludicrously sad-eyed puppy in the middle bottom panel representing Cherry’s emotional devastation, and the terrifying devil-cat in the first panel representing her ever-growing rage.

The rightmost panel in the middle row, meanwhile, offers a unique in-fireplace perspective, and presumably stands in for the eternal punishment that awaits any wanna-be Santas who would give an unwanted animal as gift. Mark and Andy will be right there to watch you cast into the hellfire, animal abuser!

Blondie, 12/13/09

This may be the most unsettling Blondie yet produced. Those who don’t get to see the throwaway panels are missing the full effect, as Dithers creepily demands that Dagwood close his eyes as he approaches with his sinister doll — presumably so the tiny monster’s little face is the first thing he sees when he opens them again, and he can be more easily hypnotized. Dagwood’s stunned silence in the antepenultimate and penultimate panels are the behavior you’d expect from someone given an evil little homunculus, but the fact that he’s brought it home is evidence that he’s under its power. Soon it will tell him to kill.

Slylock Fox, 12/13/09

Also, Slylock and Max have been lurking outside that window for hours, watching Cassandra walking around in her little bathrobe, so if anything like that happened they would have noticed.

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Mary Worth, 12/12/09

As predicted, Mary Worth has made what should by all rights be a spectacular storyline boring in near-record time, mostly by showing us endless shots of Wilbur typing instead of treating us to mid-70s college flashbacks. Still, there are some moments of visual interest in today’s strip, mostly centering around Wilbur’s crimes against ergonomics. In panel one, he’s somehow managed to get his chest all the way up the keyboard, forcing his elbows behind his back as he types the phrase every young man wants to hear — “I’m probably not your dad, but your mom was an amazing lay back in college.” In panel two, the desk seems to have miraculously dropped by two or three inches, which explains why Wilbur’s fingers are just flailing about in the air two inches above the keyboard.

Ziggy, 12/12/09

Last year around this time, I pointed out how creepy it was for a man with no pants to wait in line to see Santa. Today we learn what’s even creepier: a man with no pants standing off to the side and silently watching kids sit on Santa’s lap. Just the thought of it is apparently making Santa weep in disgust.

Mark Trail, 12/12/09

While I suppose it’s swell that Mark is going to great lengths to save Rusty’s life and all, don’t you think he’s a little too excited about all this breaking and entering and smashing windows and what not? I mean, look at that face in the second panel: drenched with sweat, eyes wide and crazed — Mark hasn’t had this much fun in his life! In fact, it was wholly unnecessary for him to dramatically throw that old barrel though the store’s front window, as Mark is more than capable of kicking any door down. One begins to wonder if the whole “jacking the car up on sand as a playful dog scampers about” scenario was a set-up to allow Mark to go on this vandalistic rampage.

Pluggers, 12/12/09

Pluggers are so scandalized by extremely mild swear words that they bowdlerize classic movie quotes, even in their own minds.