Comment of the Week

Saul is over in panel one, pursuing his passion: narrating events to people in real-time, as they unfold.

Victor Von

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Blondie, 6/6/05

I don’t have anything in particular to say about this Blondie strip, except that I like the word “Glambaster.” Is it someone’s last name? A product manufactured by the studiously ambiguous corporation that is Dithers Enterprises? An internal code name for some project in development? Whatever it is, it just rolls off the tongue. Glambaster! Glambaster! It’s the sort of thing that makes you think, “How would this word be portrayed in some sort of photo-rebus?” Well, wonder no more:

I thank you for your time.

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Apartment 3-G, 6/5/06

Let’s take a break from the current brain-taxing (or is it mind-numbing?) Apartment 3-G storyline and, like our leering layabouts in panel four, appreciate the sight of these two fine ladies enjoying a jog. Apparently these two jokers are a constant discomfort-causing presence on that particular park bench, because unlike the casually limb-exposing joggers in the background, Margo and Tommie have taken the precaution of covering up every inch of potentially titillating skin. Under most circumstances, Margo’s turtleneck would qualify as the Most Prudish Workout Outfit Ever, but Tommie has one-upped her by incomprehensibly choosing to wear a black polo shirt under her long-sleeved tracksuit! This way, once their running route takes them through Little Lancaster, Brooklyn’s famous Amish district, all they’ll have to do to avoid being pelted with stones is pull out their bonnets.

This entry simply cannot end without taking a few potshots at the individual at the far right of panel three. The pulled-up white socks, the knock-kneed, falling-forward, spasmodic running style, the dark glasses — he’s got “victim” written all over him. Godspeed, buddy. Watch out for the dude in the backwards baseball cap — after that glare from Margo, he’s gonna be pissed.

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B.C., 6/4/05

So Generic Caveman Guy Whose Name I Don’t Care To Look Up wonders if God Almighty has a sense of humor. But then he notes the waddling presence of That Short Hairy Dude Whose Name I Am Actively Avoiding Looking Up, and realizes that any God who would create such a thing must have a sense of humor indeed!

Except the short hairy dude wasn’t created by God. He was created by Johnny Hart. Do you know what this means? That’s right: Johnny Hart thinks that he has a sense of humor! The horror.

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