Hi and Lois, 6/1/05
Sure, Trixie, that nice hawk is just giving the adorable little mouse a ride. A ride … into his stomach!
Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I feel like there’s been something of an uptick in melancholy in this strip of late. Maybe soon Hi and Lois will be faced with a dilemma: travel to Europe, or pay to have Trixie’s colon unblocked? She is the one they’ve had the least amount of time to get attached to…
Marmaduke, 5/31/05
Philosophers have long pondered whether a tree that falls in the forest with no one to hear it makes a sound. Along those lines, we in the comics criticism game must ask: if the author of an unloved comic goes insane, will anyone notice? Today brought not one but two utterly baffling one-panelers. At first, I thought I was going to have to break my not-doing-the-same-comic-on-consecutive-days rule and publicly ponder today’s Family Circus, but a clever commentor pointed out that what I thought was a religio-political allusion was in fact just an unforgivable pun. Marmaduke still baffles, however. I believe this is the first in-panel word balloon in this feature; who would have thought that this technique would be inaugurated in a scene where a tree demands not be urinated on? I mean, that is what’s happening here, right? The human characters can hear the talking tree, right? And what’s the significance of the hole from which the word balloon is emanating: is the speaker really someone inside the tree, like a squirrel or an elf or … a … very small man or something? And is there a joke of some sort here, beyond the obvious “talking tree + imminent urination = total hilarity” formula? If anyone can shed any sort of light on these conundra, I will be most grateful.
Family Circus, 5/30/05
A one-panel comic is all punchline, and a skillfully crafted one can derive much of its power from making the reader imagine the scenario that played out to lead up to the presented conclusion. I’d like to think that in the half-hour or so immediately before today’s Family Circus, Daddy took the measure of his eldest’s pitching ability and pounded homer after homer into the next subdivision, barely breaking a sweat and sporting that smug little smile as he systematically broke Billy’s self-confidence and will to live. “When you came along, Billy,” he thinks, “I lost my youth and privacy, I was no longer first in my wife’s affections, and I was ever more firmly shackled to a white-collar job I hate and a soulless suburban home I loathe. Every day I look at your fresh young face, full of life and vigour, and I’m reminded that I’m getting older and closer to death. But by God, at least you can’t get a fastball by me yet.” Then — pow! — another run scored for Team Grown-up. Finally, as the ache in Jeffy’s knees begins to become almost unbearable while he waits for the strike that will never come, Billy attempts to salvage some shred of dignity while begging for mercy. I like to think that Daddy replies with a sneering “Screw you, kid — bunting is for pussies” before sending Billy scrambling with a line drive aimed right at his grossly oversized head.