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Marvin, 1/27/08

Non-redheaded persons who read this, heed my words! We redheaded folk may, as my hairdresser cheerfully informed me when I went to get a haircut last week, be going extinct, but like the mighty but doomed polar bear, we demand a certain degree of respect on the way out! For instance, in the matter of metaphorical color terms used to describe us, we are fine with the classic “redhead” or simply “red”; also acceptable are “ginger,” “rusty,” “strawberry blond” (for certain hues), and, if you’re feeling risque, “firecrotch.” “Raspberry” strikes me as a little off, and … tomato? Tomato? Please. Let’s never speak of this incident again.

Despite the totally radical and extreme dream-based snowboarding going on in most of this comic, due to its weird background the final panel is the only one in which it actually appears to be snowing. This implies that at some point in the middle of winter, Marvin’s parents put him and his bed outside while he was sleeping, a move that I very much approve of. Perhaps they chose to expose their child to the elements after one too many mornings waking up to the horrifying vision in the throwaway panel in the top row.

Mary Worth, 1/27/08

And Vera’s reign as the most normal person in the Drew-Dawn-Vera love triangle comes to an end … now. The weird generic blandness in the art here makes it unclear whether the clean-cut blondie in the final panel is supposed to be her brother Von or some new paramour, but either possibility is a weird enough choice for a get-together-with-an-old-flame meeting as to totally justify Dr. Drew’s epic head swivel in the final panel.

Turning to something with more personality than any of the humans in this scenario, let’s take a look at the sign being partially blocked by Drew’s brylcreemed noggin. I’m specifically intrigued by the top placard, which has a picture of some sort of white, foamy topping illustrating the exhortation to “ADD S[redacted]”. Since there’s enough room on the sign for one or two more letters, tops, and none of the synonyms for whipped cream that I can think of start with “S”, I’m kind of at a loss as to what it could be trying to tell us. My best guess: “ADD SIN”. Because whipped cream is sinfully delicious, you see!

Apartment 3-G, 1/27/08

“God damn it, this is an autumn shade, and I know I’m a spring! How many times do I have to tell myself — I should never go to the cosmetics counter when I’m drunk or high!”

The final panel of this strip walks a delicate line, giving Alan fans the beefcake they crave while sparing the rest of us the traumatic sight of Alan nipples.

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Judge Parker, 1/26/08

So the big interview with No-Legged War Hero Mama’s Boy Works-For-Nothing Steve is over, and it’s becoming more and more obvious that Gloria likes what she sees! Likes it so much, in fact, that she’s got to close her eyes in the final panel, because if she has to look at that hot hunk of filial piety for even one more minute, she can’t be held responsible for her actions.

I do think it’s kind of curious that, since one of Steve’s major characteristics is that he lost his legs in Iraq, we’ve never actually gotten a good look at his prosthetics. Not that we should let his disability and define him and I’m sure most people with artificial legs actually wear pants that cover them up, but it almost seems that the artist has gone out of his way to arrange the panel composition such that his legs are just out of view. Could this be one of the problems of a comics strip that’s a collaboration between an artist and a writer — could the artist have gotten the scripts and cried “Argh! Prosthetic limbs! My greatest weakness!”

Popeye, 1/26/08

Popeye is in the midst of some completely uninteresting plot about Sweet Pea’s allowance, but I have to pose this question to those readers who are part of the nautical division of the Jungle Patrol: What the hell does “typical fat-armed sailor” mean? I always assumed that Popeye’s bizarre physique was a result of artistic whimsy and/or steroid abuse, but are we to understand that his pencil-thin biceps and unnaturally bulging forearms are somehow representative of his profession — and are also somehow related to the cheapness endemic to seamen? I’m obviously way behind on my sailor stereotyping.

Dick Tracy, 1/26/08

In our upcoming storyline, Dick Tracy will drop any pretense about being a frank cheerleader for fascism as Dick is ordered to go break up a local showing of “degenerate art.”

Marmaduke, 1/26/08

For “lost,” read “ate,” obviously.

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Lots of people seem ready and eager to quit and join the Jungle Patrol! After all, who’s tougher than lady cops and waitresses? While I can’t help you meet the grueling physical and mental requirements for Jungle Patrol membership, thanks to a pair of faithful readers I can help outfit you for that trip to the recruitment center!

First off, from faithful reader The Spectacular Spider-Brick, comes this design for everyone who’s ever wanted to quit and join the Jungle Patrol:

If you’re interested in making clear just exactly who’s tougher than the pirates you’ll fight in the Jungle Patrol, check out this design from faithful reader Steve Downer:

(For that second design, the top graphic is on the front of the shirt, the bottom is on the back.)

Both are available on various shirts at the Comics Curmudgeon store! As usual, the initial offerings are very basic, so feel free to e-mail me if there’s something else you’d want one of these graphics on. (At the moment, I’m too graphics-dumb to get the lady cops and waitresses one on dark shirts — Steve, if you can send me a version that’s a transparent PNG, that would help me!)