Comment of the Week

Wizard of Id has succintly portrayed the difference between Early and Late Medieval modes of warfare: while his Dark Age companions are boldly dying for their feudal lord, the canny Sir Rodney treats war as a profession. He is akin to the condottiere who would dominate later Italian warfare. That sly look and crooked smile is that of a man who sees human corpses as nothing more than money in his purse, arguably far more barbaric than his predecessors. But trebuchets suck for hitting single guys so we're probably about to see Sir Smarty Pants' insides in spite of his historically progressive role.

m.w.

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New directions for old favorites, just in time for the weekend!

Apartment 3-G, 6/20/2008

Hey, Tommie’s back! And it’s clear Gary’s ardor hasn’t cooled — soon, he’ll whisper that if the hospital doesn’t upgrade the intrusion detection software on the Pharmacy network leg to current specs — and fast — there’s no way they’ll demonstrate HIPAA compliance before the first-round JCAHO review. Tommie will just lower her eyes and coo that the time may have come to negotiate with an outside service provider for penetration-testing services.

Then comes the howling.

Funky Winkerbean, 6/20/2008

Hey, Les is on the fast track: just learned where the glassware goes, now he’s running the Manhattan operation. At least he knows the neighborhood — last visit, he spread his wife’s ashes in Central Park, got mugged, and squandered his precious honeymoon memento calling Funky to come bail him out. Now he — and we! — can relive the magic.

Back home, Summer will spend her copious lesiure time ginning up fresh tragedy, as required by her genetic inheritance, her contract, and the strip’s mission statement. Her Dad, of all people, should know there are no “comfort zones” in Funky Winkerbean.

Luann, 6/20/2008

Hey! Brad’s on the job! He’s gonna rescue TJ! Five days ’til The Kiss!

— Uncle Lumpy!

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Daily continuity strips have to fiddle with time to tell their stories. And anybody with an idle hour, a links page or utility and a refreshing beverage can figure out how they manage it. Let’s give it a go!

Judge Parker, 6/19/2008

It’s morning in Judge Parker! This strip moves so slowly, characters could sit on the porch and watch continents drift by. Here’s the chronology since the last appearance of the Esteemed Eponym himself — on November 28, 2006:

1/1/2007 — Goodbye, Abbey and Neddy!
2/5/2007 — Off to school, Neddy!
6/18/2007 — Off to California, Sophie and Sam!
8/6/2007 — Mornin’, Trudi!
10/29/2007 — ‘Bye, Rusty!
1/7/2008 — Mornin’ Abbey!
3/24/2008 — Off to work, Steve!
6/16/2008 — Elvira in the news!

Did I miss any? Let me know at bio@jfruh.com. At a little over two months per day, those evenings with Abbey (or Trudi, or Rusty, or — God help us — Rachel) come waaaaay too far apart — but they last a good long time. Not that any of that makes the slightest difference to Sam.

Mary Worth, 7/5/2006

To measure glaciers’ progress, climatologists poke sticks in them, then return to see a pile of wet sticks on the ground. how far they’ve moved. But to meter the agonizing peristalsis of Mary Worth, we must employ prunes.

Above, Mary prunes in a scene of regularity and contentment. Her life is as it has always been: quiet, refined, her presumptuous intrusions into the lives of others unchallenged, out of her victims’ stark terror. A new conquest waits in the shadows, but like a spider she bides her time.

Mary Worth, 6/19/2008

Less than two years later, as a second prune struggles its way to the light, so much has changed. As evidenced by her distress in the right panel, Mary’s life has become irregular, pinched, beset with ructions! Her disastrous rejection of Aldo’s simple affection, her meddling outshone by Ella Byrd’s clairvoyance, her contributions reduced to improving the lot of stray dogs, the public humiliation of her long-time partner — Mary’s life is falling apart. She stands at the brink, and only the tissue of her self-deception keeps her from the abyss.

Karen Moy! Give her a nudge, won’t you? Just a little one? For us? We love you, you know! And we’re quite sure you’ll feel much better afterwards!

Funky Winkerbean, 6/19/2008

OK, Tom Batiuk’s time management skills lead this pack. He slow-paces a set of characters (high-schoolers, young adults) until he outgrows them, then “leaps” — or rather, sheds the time discrepancy that’s built up. Except that this most recent leap has been a muddle — characters age inconsistently, and sad-sack author-proxy Les, here, seems hell-bent on living in multiple pasts: his nightmare adolescence, his absurdly, hilariously tragic marriage. Get it together, pal — one more leap and you’re Crankshaft.

For Better or For Worse, 6/19/2008

I throw up my hands (and oh, so much else) trying to figure out what this strip is trying to do. Last year, they announced and then utterly botched a “freeze” (sort of the antithesis of Batiuk’s leaps). This year, they’re mixing messages about hybrids, weddings, August, September. I would stop paying attention except for the nagging suspicion that despite the near-undetectable pulse of this strip, it’s going to outlive us all.

Maman, may I have my cup of tea now? And one of those little shell cookies? S’il-vous plaît?

— Uncle Lumpy

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Dick Tracy, 6/18/2008

OK, so Dick’s waiting for a robbery, and Shirl tells the crime boss to wait for Dick’s move. We’ll check back in six months or so: maybe a meteor will hit or something.

Gasoline Alley, 6/18/2008

Yeah, that meteor thing? Could totally happen! But this is just poor Rufus trying to navigate between his hallucinatory Messiah, celebrity cat-chef Meowrice, and the hellish pit of his own despair. Also, “. . . eat and drown our sorrows. . . ?” Rufus looks a tad old for Similac, and not quite ready for Ensure.

Gil Thorp, 6/18/2008

You know, not long ago this strip was flirting with linearity, coherence, and representational artwork. Sure dodged that bullet, didn’t they?

Pluggers, 6/18/2008

Clenching extra-hard on her cigar butt, our noble plugger vows that this time she won’t forget to ask Dr. S. for her Aricept® refill.

You know, all these comics are from the Tribune Media Service. If I were Chicago’s Department of Water Management, I’d be looking into that.

— Uncle Lumpy