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Nothing in Sunday’s funnies set my curmudgeonly world on fire, so I’m doubling up on Saturday:

Gil Thorp, 12/3/05

Gil Thorp is in the midst of proving that its divorce from anything even vaguely resembling competitive athletics is total. In the midst of Milford High’s biggest football game of the year, with the championship on the line, goody-goody Sean Pettibone admitted to the referees that he had stepped out of bounds on an apparent touchdown play. This is short order has rid him of his hateful, helmet-haired girlfriend and won him the affection of the towering cornrowed nice girl who’s been eyeing him all semester. Weirder yet, he’s being protected from the rightful vengeance of his fellow players by … Brent? Brent “Rap Dog”? For those of you who aren’t familiar with this strip’s pantheon of losers, this is the aforementioned Brent:

In what plane of existence is this young man handing out swirlies, rather than suffering on the receiving end of so many that his otoretolaryngologyst would be financially secure for the rest of his life? Seriously, if kids like this are administering swirlies in high school these days, I want to go back. I’ve got a list of deserving candidates.

Meanwhile, in Santa Royale:

Mary Worth, 12/3/05

I’m having a hard time remembering: what was it that goeth before the fall again? Oh, yeah, it’s insufferable goddamn smugness. Wilbur, a few weeks from now, when you’re standing terrified on your kitchen table, trying to fend off a mob of angry, lonely women with nothing but a broom handle, you may want to look back on this moment with a certain degree of humility.

Actually, Mary Worth did provide Sunday’s high point of interest. Things seem to be looking up for Josh “Mr.” Hand, the latest collateral victim of Wilbur’s lousy advice, especially now that he’s mysteriously morphed into David Bowie!

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Kudzu, 12/2/05

So, what do you suppose the joke in this Kudzu is supposed to be about?

• Christian Scientists, who often refuse modern medical procedures in favor of spiritual healing practices.
• Some pharmacists’ refusal to fill prescriptions for emergency contraception and birth control pills on “moral grounds.”
• Some sort of bird-eating-bird cannibalism reference.
• Kudzu is an entirely humor-free medium, and thus has no needs for “jokes” that “make sense” or are “funny”.

Discuss.

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Something a little different for you today: America’s coming economic collapse, as foreshadowed in the funnies. Just a couple of days ago, Lois was chatting to one of her friends about her work:

Hi and Lois, 11/29/05

Today, though, the situation seems a little different:

Hi and Lois, 12/1/05

Hi and Lois deserves kudos for not only giving Lois a job, but giving Lois a job that isn’t a cop-out extension of the “lady’s work” she does at home (I’m looking at you, Blondie, you food-addiction enabler, you). Still, she’s throwing herself into her role as a pimp for the real-estate-industrial complex with a bit more enthusiasm than perhaps is wise. First, she’s telling Brunette Neighbor Lady Whose Name I Don’t Remember that the housing market is a nonstop rocket ride to the moon, with no possible downside. I knew a lot of people who talked like this when I worked for an Internet company in San Francisco in the late ’90s; despite their ostensible business savvy, they were a lot more surprised than I was when the pink slips started fluttering down on everyone’s desks. It’s only at show and tell that we see that the housing-market balloon is full of hot air and nothing more: making your kid shill crappy suburban bungalows to other kids reeks of financial flop sweat.