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Herb and Jamaal, 5/12/08

I was going to make some snide comment about how sad it is that Herb and Jamaal thinks it’s keeping its readership enthralled by this cut-rate David-and-Maddie-style romantic tension plot, but then I realized that I keep commenting on it, so who’s the sad one, really? Anyway, today’s installment takes the strip’s usual nonspecific circumlocution to some kind of higher art form. Are these two even aware that they’re talking about each other any more? Is Jamaal !ing in the final panel because he’s trying to visualize what Yolanda means by his “hammer” and her “bent nail”?

Luann, 5/12/08

Speaking of tedious romantic storylines, with TJ safely bundled off to … wherever he goes to when he’s not in the strip (*cough* gay bar *cough*), will tonight finally be the night when Brad “mixes some Brad” with Toni’s “Toni”? I have no real idea what that sentence I just wrote means, but it sounds gross, so I hope not.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/12/08

Speaking of tedious romantic storylines, I have to admit that today’s FBOFW made me crack up. Sure, it’s a reinforcement of the horribly retrograde idea that the strip’s been going on about for some time — that if some guy you don’t like is coming on to you, all you can do is wring your hands and whine weakly about it unless you have a bit of finger hardware purchased for you by someone else with external genitalia. But the sight of Warren recoiling in horror from the second-cheapest ring from Zales (or its Canadian equivalent) as if it were filled with deadly radon gas is so hilariously over the top that Foob, Inc., has to be in on the joke. Right? Right? Right?

Mary Worth, 5/12/08

In happier news, Donna Amalfi celebrated Mother’s Day by dropping dead. Since this blessed event took place at the beginning of the week, we should be treated to five or six glorious days of Mary helping the Brothers R process their emotional pain before giving this whole thing up as a bad job and blessedly moving on to something equally dumb.

Ziggy, 5/12/08

AOL-themed joke from 1998 + talking feces = desperate, desperate cry for help.

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Hi and Lois, 5/11/08

Yes, happy mother’s day, Lois! I’m glad to see that you’re spending it crushing any ambitions your girl-children might hold of having kids and having some other identity for themselves when they grow up. After all, everyone knows that nobody could possibly be a princess, rock star, poet, or CEO while also being a mother. Why, that’s pure madness, I tell you, pure madness!

I do have to give Lois points for having rock star fantasies that involve a gig at CBGB — and since she’s probably in the 40-45 range, this is even vaguely appropriate, chronologically. The beatnik poet look, not so much. I’m also curious as to where Chip is during this celebration. Because he’s an aspiring musician himself, it may be too painful for him to hear once again how her band had to break up after she got knocked up with him by some corporate tool she met one night after a show.

Shoe, 5/11/08

HOLY CRAP THEY’RE FLYING! I complain a lot that the bird-ness of the birds in Shoe is not exploited often enough, so it’s somewhat gratifying to see Shoe and the Perfesser swooping through the sky in living color. But since all the offices and homes and restaurants we see the Shoe characters hanging out in are on tree branches, it makes the sprawly suburban landscape that they’re navigating over somewhat disconcerting. I’d like to see them walk into one of the strip malls below them and order lunch, only to be met with uncomprehending stares and/or shrieks of terror.

Another strange anomaly thrown into sharp relief in the air: the Perfesser wears clothes — a shirt and shoes, at least — while Shoe is naked as whatever kind of bird he’s supposed to be. This brings a whole new level of discomfort to his drunken advances on barflies that we’re occasionally forced to endure.

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Hi and Lois, 5/10/08

Watch out for Lois’s crazy eyes, Hi! This “spontaneity” she’s experiencing is entirely meth-driven. If the completely barren room in which you’re standing is any indication, “cleaning the attic” is a euphemism for “finding everything of any possible resale value there and hocking it to buy more drugs.”

Spider-Man, 5/10/08

I was surprised as anyone to see this Spider-Man storyline start out with the introduction of a supervillain, even though this strip has debased the notion of “supervillain” to the extent that some chump in a dorky bird suit qualifies. Things got more in line with the Spider-Man I know when our hero was felled by the influenza virus, and today we see that our feathered baddy is actually going to stymied by some random swell in a blue tux in his very first post-prison robbery attempt. Thus, the path is open to the real plotline: endless whining from Peter Parker about how nobody needs him and being a superhero is pointless and he’s wracked with ennui and self-loathing and blah blah blah.

Crock, 5/10/08

Gah! I laughed aloud at Crock today! Curses, all my curmudgeonly street cred is gone, gone!