Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 5/30/07

While I’m not a morning person and sympathize with Beetle’s attitude, I’m a little unnerved by the way he goes about expressing it. Specifically, who exactly is he ordering to “go away” and “leave me alone”? It seems that he’s so haunted by this world that he’s addressing existence generally, preferring the icy numbness of sleep or even death to consciousness. Alternately, since he is Trixie Flagston’s uncle, he may be railing against her buddy Sunbeam, hinting that this is a relationship that can go sour once you grow up.

Gil Thorp, 5/30/07

I had high hopes that crafty old Clambake was going to launch into a detailed treatise on just when and how you launch a beanball at a batter for maximum psychological impact. Instead, he appears to be giving young Elmer a “we black folks have it much harder than you Mexicans or whatever ever will so shut your yap whippersnapper” speech, which will inevitably result in either a soul-searching look at prejudice in a new, multiethnic America or an all-out race war, neither of which I’m interested in seeing in Gil Thorp, now or ever.

It’s nice to see the most personable and attractive Gil Thorp recurring character in panel three. I’m talking, of course, about the disembodied alien claw-thing perched on Elmer’s shoulder. It sure loves to sit on people’s shoulders, but it don’t mean no harm to nobody.

Hi and Lois, 5/30/07

I’d fling my food at my parents too if they tried to feed me that undifferentiated inky black goo. It’s like a bowl of finely minced despair.

Mary Worth, 5/30/07

Mary Worth is looking more skeletal and Nancy Reagan-esque than ever in panel two. I have no idea whose enormous hands those are flapping around in front of her, but they clearly aren’t hers. Perhaps they were once attached to her latest hapless victim, the remainder of whom is baking in a casserole dish back in her apartment, to be force-fed to Vera later this evening.

Slylock Fox, 5/30/07

I know it’s all part of the Great Cycle of Barnyard Life, but, like the duck in the pond, I am a little unnerved to see that fox’s last moment of happiness before the farmer beats him to death with that stick. I guess the lesson is: if you’re a fox and you like getting into other people’s business, get a cape and a deerstalker hat and learn to spout some deduction-y sounding bullshit. Otherwise, you’re fair game.

Ziggy, 5/30/07

Ha ha! Ziggy is going to die of smallpox, because he’s poor!

Post Content

I’ve been sitting on all kinds of random stuff for a while, and why not throw it all together in one big metapost of FUN?

OK, first thing’s first: Readers! Do you live in, or near, New York City, and/or will you be in New York City on the evening of June 22? If so, you will have your chance to see the world-famous Comics Curmudgeon (aka me) make an ass of himself his first foray into live comedy-style entertainment! I was invited by a faithful reader who’s also some sort of big-city entertainment impresario to participate in an event called ROFL! The deal is that I and seven other hilarious individuals will present and/or explicate to the audience hilarious material we find in the depths of the Internet. Our performances are pitted against one another until one emerges the ULTIMATE CHAMPION! Victors are determined by audience hooting, so obviously I need to pack the joint with my supporters. The event is at Joe’s Pub, which is at 425 Lafayette Street, between Astor Place and East 4th Street, in Manhattan. You can buy tickets online for $12 plus services charges, or just come directly to Joe’s Pub or the Public Theater and avoid said service charges. I will be pimping this again closer to the actual event, unless I hear that it’s sold out, in which case I will mock you suckers who didn’t buy your tickets in time, so you should probably get your tix now, and buy an extra one in case you fall in love sometime in the next three weeks.

Speaking of random sort-of-related-to-comics things I do, I recently managed to bring together the comics-loving and tech journalism sides of my soul by doing an audio interview with Ryan North, creator of the ever-awesome Dinosaur Comics. We talked about Project Wonderful, his new auction-based ad system, which appears on many comics-related Websites (this one among them). You can check out the interview at ITworld.com — either read the transcript or, if you’re interested in finding out just how pinched and nasal my voice is, listen to the audio.

Changing the subject entirely: Many of you are no doubt familiar with Alison Bechdel, the writer and artist behind the long-running and much-beloved underground Dykes To Watch Out For strip (note: contains occasional nudity), who found critical acclaim last year for her graphic novel memoir Fun Home. What you almost certainly don’t know, however, is that she’s a longtime Mark Trail aficionado. She sent me this parody from about 12 years ago featuring Mo, her DTWOF protagonist, as the Man Himself:

Good to see the basic formula hasn’t changed.

Speaking of comics that contain occasional nudity, I’ve been meaning for a while to direct your attention to The Fart Party, a Webcomic by Julia Wertz, just because I love it so.

Speaking of comics that we should all be glad do not contain occasional nudity … have you ever wanted to illustrate a bit of FBOFW foefic? Web comic superstar T Campbell, who writes for Penny and Aggie and a whole bunch of other stuff, is looking for an artist for a Foob-related thingie he’s got cooked up. If you’re interested, e-mail him.

I conclude with two random bits from readers. First, faithful reader Kevin illuminated the thought process of many in regards to Apartment 3-G:

And faithful reader Mooncattie brought his Margo!Boxcar!Saturn! mug to the heart of Foobness itself — Toronto city hall!

Oh, and, uh, in regards to self-clubbing Tyler: I’m going to have a winner picked out … real … soon now. Real soon. Hey, choosing the best one is h-a-a-ard, OK? I don’t like making decisions! WAAAAHHHH! [Further Mike Patterson-style whining.]

Post Content

Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/29/07

Ha ha! Awww, Rex doesn’t like mean ol’ Hugh! Rex thinks Hugh’s a bad son! Plus Hugh was not nice to Rex! So Rex has busted out the angry face! It’s OK, Rex, it’s OK, Heather’s got the situation in hand now. Put down the celery before you hurt somebody with it.

Archie, 5/29/07

That Archie! You can totally tell why all the girls are always fighting over him. He’s thrown into a state of naked panic and despair whenever he has to make the simple kinds of choices necessary to function as a human being in society! Speaking of which…

For Better Or For Worse, 5/29/07

For whatever reason — residual affection for a strip I liked in my youth, some vague desire to keep a hold of my dignity — I always feel like I need to step back from full-throated Foob hate, so I’ll try to keep this as rational as possible. It is, in fact, true that buying a house a huge leap, a stressful responsibility. It’s natural to worry that, if your financial situation changes, you might not only lose the house, but all the money you’ve invested in it to that point — a worry that might be all the keener if a big part of your income comes from freelancing and is thus not predictable. And then there are the little costs, like maintenance, that would normally be your landlord’s responsibility that suddenly you have to cover. It’s a Big Deal.

And yet exactly none of this has actually been discussed in the strip. We don’t know why Mikey is so freaked out about buying the house; as far as I can tell, he’s just sitting under some kind of smoldering cloud of existential dread about it. It’s not like he even really had to decide to do it — with the fire and his parents’ machinations, it’s like the choice was made for him! (In real life, this could of course be the very cause of his unease, but again if that’s the case, nothing has been said to that effect.) Today we learn that Mike is in such a state about the prospect of property ownership that he wants to punish his body until his mind shuts down. The turn to booze and drugs is inevitable. If Mike spends all his days in the coming frozen-in-time version of the strip in some sort of dreamy opium haze, every Foob outrage we have suffered to this point will have been worth it.

Judge Parker, 5/29/07

If you’re sympathizing with Sam’s hair-pulling panic in panel three (“The ladies, they’ll just go out with that credit card and come back with three new dresses they don’t need! And an apartment in Paris! Am I right, fellas?”), I must remind you that all of the fabulous wealth that keeps this motley family in the lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed at stately Spencer Farms is Abbey’s (inherited, I believe). Perhaps he’s worried that any pinch on the family finances will reveal that his claims to be contributing with his big-shot lawyer’s salary have been nothing but lies. I’ve been reading this strip for two and a half years and I haven’t witnessed anything from him that might qualify as a billable hour.