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Ziggy, 12/12/08

Here’s a disturbing trend in Ziggy (more disturbing even than the fact that bankrupt newspapers everywhere continue to pay good money for Ziggy): two days in a row of someone/something in the background doing something ill-drawn and mysterious, while Ziggy sports his Eyebags Of Despair (today accented with the Crooked Mouth Of Anguish). I guess the “joke” here is that Ziggy has had his heart-boxer-wearing ways revealed by some TSA goon, who, in unrelated news, is spectacularly high. Ziggy is humiliated by this, for some reason! It is curious, however, that Ziggy is even packing underwear in his suitcase, considering he never wears anything below the waist. Perhaps his excuse for his constant pantslessness is “But I don’t own any pants! Or underwear!” And now he’s been caught in that lie, and everyone knows he’s just an exhibitionist pervert.

(Most of us are not so shy about our underwear pattern choices, but whatever.)

Mark Trail, 12/12/08

Andy is untying Mark’s bonds. By, you know, licking them. Licking them. That … that. Wow. He’s licking the knots open. I don’t think … I … wow. Just. Yeah. Um.

Apartment 3-G, 12/12/08

“Whoa, sarcasm!” That is the high point of this little exchange, which sits at a roughly fifth-grade-level, both in terms of the quality of the wit and of the grasp of America’s innocent-until-proven-guilty legal system. Still, I’m becoming increasingly fascinated by Margo’s collar; like a cobra’s hood, it flares out angrily when external threats present themselves.

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Cleats, Ziggy, and Mary Worth, 12/11/08

Cleats has spent the last few weeks introducing Svanhildur, aka “Swan Battle,” aka “the Gunk of Cleats.” I would like to believe that I don’t actually follow Cleats closely enough to notice when new characters are introduced, but I’m afraid that idea has now been conclusively disproven. Anyway, Edith mocks the idea that swan battles are part of everyday experience; however, my understanding is that swans are merely fancy elitist geese, and geese are — I know this from living for several years near Lake Merritt in Oakland, which was lousy with them — nasty, aggressive birds willing to do battle on the innocent and the helpless with little or no provocation. Take Lynn and her totally innocent, never-got-a-fingerbang-from-him-no-sir friend Greg, feeding these ungrateful parasites in today’s flashback frame. Lynn’s dad was mad at Greg for taking Lynn away from her skating practice; Greg’s parents, on the other hand, were mad at Lynn for fleeing the scene in terror while the savage swans pecked their poor son to death.

The swan in Ziggy, meanwhile, only does battle with the dignity of birds everywhere. Its obscenely lolling tongue is particularly unsettling. Ziggy is right to manifest his patented Undereye Bags Of Horror in response.

Gil Thorp, 12/11/08

I really do keep waiting for this to turn out to be a continuation of the wacky tale of Jeff “Sacko” “6-9” “That kid who lied about his heart condition” Ponczak and Matt the Hat and Marty Moon and … you know, football season, this ostensibly being a comic about sports and all, but I’m coming around to the idea that maybe we’re firmly planted in a brave new plot of NUT BOY and armed robbery and now, two snobby prep school refugees washing up on Milford’s poverty-blighted shores! Our snooty transfer twins will be just like 90210′s Brandon and Brenda, except oppositely socially mobile, and one of them is named “Bryce” instead of “Brandon”, and they’ll probably be roped into participating in some kind of athletic activity. Perhaps Bryce will complain loudly about Milford’s lack of a polo team or yachting squad.

Beetle Bailey, 12/11/08

Yeah, lady, I’m sure this seems like a good idea now, but just wait until the beatings start.

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Spider-Man, 12/10/08

For all the time I spend slamming on poor inept Spider-Man, there are occasional gems that keep me reading the thing day after day; indeed, today’s strip made me laugh louder than, say, any installment of Blondie, ever. Of all newspaper Spider-Man’s neglected and useless super-powers, his spider sense is the worst. It singularly failed to prevent him from, say, being clobbered by a lead-pipe-wielding butler or getting hit in the head with a brick. But finding a totally obvious piece of paper that’s just sitting out on a desk in plain sight, with the information Spidey needs written out in 72-point font? Oh, it’s going to tingle like crazy! I’m not sure how much use an actual spider would have for this kind of power, though, seeing as most of them are illiterate. I think a better name for it would be “convenience sense,” and he could use it around the house to find missing keys, misplaced cell phones, and, of course, the TV remote.

One Big Happy, 12/10/08

Now, obviously we all enjoy a good Oedipus joke now and then, and they obviously come to mind all the time, what with Sophocles’ great play-cycle being frequently restaged for television, with Oedipus played by some kind of cut-rate Jonas Brother wearing fingerless gloves for some reason. Still, I think I would have liked it better if this strip had starred, say, Joe and his dad, or Ruthie and her grandpa, or really just about any other possible character combination you could name, not least because of this.

Mark Trail, 12/10/08

Surely I can’t be the only one who read the narration box in the final panel of this strip and then spent a few minutes wondering what Mark smells like. My guess: pine needles, and fresh-pressed khaki, and whatever the opposite of pheromones is.