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Archie, 5/12/07

Hey, Archie creative team, do you think I like making joke after joke about how your comic strip reads like it was written by a computer that almost understands the humor and emotions of biological life forms, but doesn’t quite? Well, I don’t, OK? So just stop writing jokes that sound like they were written by a computer, damn it. I mean … shiny … penny … Betty … glowing for some reason … WHAT THE HELL. CUT IT OUT.

It’s also possible that the lady in the third panel isn’t actually Betty, but some new one-off character named “Penny,” and that everyone looks alike in this strip and the only way to tell them apart is by their hair. In the interest of saying something nice: those are some sweet-ass pants on whoever that girl is in the third panel. (That’s sweet-ass pants, not sweet ass-pants. I mean, they may be sweet ass-pants, but we can’t see the back, so I’m not going to take a position on that.)

Judge Parker, 5/12/07

Roger has already been established as a villain because others have been talking smack about him before he arrived, plus he’s astoundingly hideous. But, you know, a less careful reader might assume that Rachel really had succumbed to dementia “these days” — she seemed pretty sharp the last time we saw her, but of course that was more than three months ago. Except that, as near as I can tell, those three months have covered less than 24 hours of strip time. DON’T THINK WE’RE NOT KEEPING TRACK, JUDGE PARKER OVERLORDS! Anyway, it looks like we’re in for a Very Special Elder Abuse storyline as Groves and Rachel are held captive by this evil refugee from the Allman Brothers Band.

As you may or may not know, Judge Parker and Rex Morgan, M.D., are both written by the same guy (Woody Wilson), and both are currently in the midst of storylines involving the dissipated, ungrateful sons of the rich attempting to protect their inheritance from ancillary family members. Wild speculation in the comments as to the motivation is encouraged.

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Apartment 3-G, 5/11/07

Sure, Gabriella is a cringe-inducing stereotype who babbles in a parody of Spanish that’s worse even than the Judge Parker punks’ French. She also nurtured the black, black soul of Margo in her womb for nine months. But if she manages to rescue Lu Ann where all others have failed, she’ll officially become one of the most together and interesting people in this strip, rivaling the “I’m a docent!” guy and leagues ahead of Tommie. She’s doing it with style and panache, too, saying a little prayer and then letting Satan himself know that she is on the side of good and that his infernal “locks” cannot keep her from her holy mission.

Family Circus, 5/11/07

For reasons I can’t explain, I am totally charmed by the fact that Jeffy and Dolly have thrown some pillows on the floor to relax on for their little chat, and that Jeffy is resting his chin in his hand while he contemplates the insane nonsense that his sister is spouting. If they were older, I’d say they were high (“Hey, is that old saying, like, ‘moth’ or, like, ‘moss’? And, like, what does it mean?”), but as it is they’re clearly just morons on pillows.

B.C., 5/11/07

So, for those of you not following the details: the B.C.s written before Johnny Hart’s death ended around the end of April, and for the next eight weeks or so we’ll be getting the Hart family’s favorite classic strips before we start in with the “new” strips assembled from old drawings and new jokes. The repeat strips have as near as I can tell all been from the last ten to fifteen years, which is kind of odd for a strip that had decades of storied history and a kind of terrible last ten to fifteen years.

Anyway, today’s repeat struck me as really familiar, which is an experience I have a lot, since I read newspaper comics obsessively and have a disturbingly good recall for them. If you squint at the copyright notice beneath the first panel, you’ll see that the date on this is 1996, but my memory of it was a lot fresher, so I went hunting through my archives and found this, from three months ago:

B.C., 2/5/07

Yeah. Um. The weird part is that it’s clearly not the same strip — the art is different and the wording of the punchline has been tweaked a bit. I do need to say that if you have to write a joke every day for years and years, you could actually plagiarize from yourself and not realize it — after all, if you thought it was funny once, you might think so again a few years later. Going through my archives, I’ve found that I’ve made the same joke, nearly word-for-word, in more than one post. Still and all, you’d think someone else would have noticed that and chosen not to run this rerun strip just now.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/11/07

Now, let’s cast aside our petty differences over Asian stereotypes and dumb names and unrealistic corporate governance procedure. I think we can all agree that panel three is the most awe-inspiringly beautiful depiction of a combover ever set to paper by an artist. Mary Worth team: you’ve been resting on your laurels long enough. The next time Wilbur needs a close-up, you’ve got to raise the bar.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 5/11/07

There’s much to love about today’s TDIET, including, but not limited to, “Doodleville,” “Dancing With Dorks,” “the urge to tear out her vocal cords,” Nurse Nulla using a conveniently placed stack of books as a leaning post, and “Nurse Nulla.” But I’d really like to direct your attention to the “thanx to” box. It’s as if someone held captive by substandard medical care sent a desperate message out to the only person who he knew could help: Al Scaduto.

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Gil Thorp, 5/10/07

As part of my cantankerous mission to defend the indefensible, I’d like to speak up for the art in Gil Thorp. I won’t attempt to justify the baffling action sequences, or claim that a reasonable person can tell who the hell anybody is. But if there’s one thing that Gil Thorp does well, it’s smug. I draw your attention to the Central slugger in the first panel and invite you to imagine his internal narrative. “Ah ha! Another snail-slow meatball of a pitch from Jim Gross that I’ve just blasted over the far fences! I think I’ll stand here and follow its trajectory into the next county for a bit, then let the bat slowly and casually slip from my fingers before I begin my stately trot ‘round the bases! La di da!”

For a previous instance of Thorpian smuggery, I urge you to check out this post from two years ago, when I was still new to the ways of Milford athletics. This post prompted the following hilarious comment from faithful reader Incident, which still makes me chuckle:

What really makes this strip is Von Haney’s crazy diagonal smug leaning pose. I know in my heart he’s going to keep doing it throughout the entire game, ergonomics be damned, because he’s JUST THAT HARDCORE about being smug. Sally Forth is his bitch.

(Speaking of funny things other people are saying about Gil Thorp, I’m pretty sure I’ve already linked to This Week In Milford, but if you aren’t already reading it, you really should be.)

Blondie, 5/10/07

Speaking of smug, panel one of today’s Blondie screams “I’m white, middle-aged, and self-satisfied, how ya doin’?” so loudly that I sort of want to smack Dagwood, and I’m not even a particular fan of hip-hop. Fortunately, in the rest of the strip he makes a quick and gratifying descent into insanity.

Mark Trail, 5/10/07

Yes, sexy Sam the sexy biologist just couldn’t get rid of all the birds — not even with a constant series of controlled explosions (scroll down a bit) — so she just DESTROYED THE WETLANDS WHERE THEY LIVED! And, as a double bonus, they were able to build a mall on the former swamp! Win-win! It’s a good thing Mark Trail could never ever punch a woman, because otherwise Sam Hill would be in big trouble. In fact, I’m not convinced she is a woman, what with her disturbingly masculine first name. I think she’s a male Mark Trail villain, and her “breasts” are where she’s hiding her facial hair.

By the way, if you think “bird strikes” are only a problem in the funny pages, think again!

Mary Worth, 5/10/07

Yes, after a big blow-out over “some silly matter” (Vera won’t tell Mary anything more, so you just know it was something awful she did), Vera was flung bodily out of the vinyl-sided family mansion onto the lawn! In a driving drizzle! With nothing but her hideous periwinkle and purple outfit and tiny, tiny handbag! And from that day forward, she swore she’d express all her aggressive and negative impulses in thought balloon form! CURSES UPON YOU, VON!

Speaking of curses, I’m still mostly averting my eyes from the horror of Funky Winkerbean, but for those of you who think that the person on the other end the hilarious Lisa-really-does-have-terminal-cancer-after-all swapped-scans mix-up has had all of his or her problems solved, think again.