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Momma, 9/13/07

OK, Momma, you’ve finally succeeded in convincing me of one of your central theses: that I would not, in fact, want to have Francis as a son. This is not because of the litany of abuse heaped upon him in roughly half of the feature’s strips; rather, it’s because the boy has no filter whatsoever on his sexual ruminations. You might remember that Francis likes to look at Internet porn with his mother in the same room. Today, in panel three, the smart thing to say would have clearly been, “Ah, I’ve also heard nice things about this young woman! Yes, I’d love for you to arrange a date for us.” Then there could be at least a few hot and heavy interludes without Momma’s constant, suffocating interference. Instead, he leapt up into the air and shouted “Woo-hoo! If Freda’s reputation is correct, I’ll soon be having consequence- and commitment-free sex with her, possibly in a kinky fashion!” (or, in bowdlerized Momma-speak, “Yes!! I will! I hear she’s a real swinger!”). Warning to overbearing mothers everywhere: this is what happens when you don’t allow proper boundaries to be established between you and your children. They just say this stuff right in front of you.

Judge Parker, 9/13/07

“Knock it off … I’m not in the mood!” Don’t feel bad, Trudi: this isn’t the first time Sam’s said those very words when faced with boobs like those.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 9/13/07

Here’s my suggestion for a sponge-bath-based TDIET:

Alf Ragweed’s images of nursing care have been heavily influenced by pornographic movies…

(In his thought balloon: “Hello Mr. Ragweed … I need to clean you up … I hear you’re so dirty … are there any particular parts you want me to focus on? Mmmmm … oh yeah …”)

But when he actually needs a sponge bath in a real hospital, how does it go? Need I tell you, dear reader?

(“All right, turn over, and — AWK-K-K-K! What the hell is this? Honestly, I’m not paid enough to deal with you … do you think wiping your crusty ass is a turn-on for me? … and it’s so small … wait till I tell the other nurses on the floor … etc., etc.”)

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/13/07

“Yes, I expect that’s a reunion Hugh isn’t looking forward to! Also, from panel two on, I’ll be played by Oscar-winner Billy Bob Thornton!”

Mark Trail, 9/13/07

Holy crap, is Homer going to start sitting on the duck eggs himself? O great Lord of Comics, we are not worthy of such joys.

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Archie, 9/12/07

There’s just one thing wrong with … no, wait, scratch that. There’s one thing that’s immediately obviously wrong with the latest offering from the Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000: Andrews père apparently considers a wallet to be something comfortable to settle down on, instead of a painful ass-irritant that any normal person would remove before plopping down in a big comfy spiral-covered chair. Of course, the AJGLU 3000 is a soulless collection of wires and semiconductors, so it can probably only dimly understand how physical comfort works. Perhaps it has concluded that something customarily placed in a back pocket must by definition be comfortable to sit on. It also has only a loose grasp on human biology, as evidenced by panel three: that tiny bald head is perched atop an impossibly spheroid body, which, being composed of some perfectly pliable substance in the AJGLU 3000’s internal volume map, merely oozes around the wallet without any discomfort.

The AJGLU’s defense, I will admit that the images on the screen in the background — funny-looking men! pretty girls! cars! — demonstrate a perfect grasp of the concept of television.

Crock, 9/12/07

So, if, before today, you had asked me, “Josh, which of the unfunny recurring gags in Crock do you find most disturbing?” I’d have answered without hesitation, “The cook’s conversations with the chickens he boils alive, who are wholly sentient and all too aware of their impending horrible fate.” And if you had asked, “Well, is there any way this could be made more disturbing?” I’d probably have said, “Nope! It’s pretty grim!” And if you had then followed up by saying “But what if you found out that the flesh and fat and skin of these chickens were being used to flavor soup while they were still alive, which soup was then consumed by eager humans right in front of their death-haunted eyes?” I’d have said, “Huh. Yeah, you’ve managed to top it, all right.”

Curtis, 9/12/07

And today’s nominee for Use Of Quotation Marks That Is Most Unsettling For Reasons I Can’t Quite Put My Finger On: “Isn’t peppermint your ‘favorite’?” The little floating musical note only adds to the unease.

Pluggers, 9/12/07

Pluggers are vampires. Cheap, unattractive vampires.

UPDATE: So, as Sherm was the first to point out, vampires like the night, not the day. I’m, like, dumb.

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Herb and Jamaal, 9/11/07

Pretty much any Herb and Jamaal could stand in for any other Herb and Jamaal, but today’s strip strikes me as a particularly archetypical Herb and Jamaal. We can strip it down to its essentials to reveal the skeleton that supports roughly 40 to 60 percent of Herb and Jamaal strips. Observe:

Panel one, character one: “More or less reasonable but somewhat oddly constructed question?”

Panel two, character two: “Extremely vaguely worded answer containing virtually no specifics related to the original interrogative, which no human being at any time would come up with as a response to said question, but which could potentially set up a variety of humorous interpretations.”

Panel three, character one: “Semantically empty phrase that helps pad the strip out to four panels…”

Panel four, character one: “…innuendo that could barely be reasonably derived even from the vague answer in panel two, and that uses ‘dating’ as a code word for a sexual relationship so as to pass muster in family newspapers.”

Mark Trail, 9/11/07

Is it possible that Clubby McSideburns is a more complex character than your usual run-of-the-mill facial-hair-sporting bludgeon-wielding Mark Trail baddie? It’s not like he bashes ducks’ heads in as a hobby or anything; he’s just a working man whose livelihood depends on the smooth operation of this mall project, and, what’s more, he cares about Homer’s financial well-being, too — maybe even more than Homer does. Meanwhile, panel two — in which we learn that Shirley the Duck is so slow and/or dumb that a human being can sneak up on her and get a hand around her throat before she goes all quacky-quacky — suggests that perhaps we should allow Darwinism, and the county construction permit process, to run their course.

Judge Parker, 9/11/07

Sam isn’t wearing his fancy three-piece goin’-to-the-courthouse lawyerin’ duds, so it’s kind of puzzling why Rusty asks him to change before they stroll around the grounds of this presumably well-manicured winery. Presumably she’d just be humiliated being seen outdoors within thirty feet of a man wearing that … weirdly fronted … chest-hair exposing … robin’s egg blue … shirt … thing.