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Judge Parker, 9/29/22

Now that Sam Driver is extremely divorced, he can really get back to his roots as a character, by which I mean solving mysteries and doing other feats of derring-do while Judge Parker spends his time doing boring judge stuff, which is why Sam was introduced into the strip in the 1960s in the first place. Meeting one of your police contacts at some out-of-the-way bar is a classic mystery-solving move, of course, though traditionally I think you’re supposed to be at a grimy dive bar where nobody you know would think to look for you, not some well-appointed hipster place that charges $18 for [squints] ketchup.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/29/22

Oh, yeah, I can’t remember if I’ve actually mentioned it, but Hank Jr.’s big plane trip is to see his long distance girlfriend, who is the daughter of his dad’s high school sweetheart, who owned the diner they’re in now, until she died, and Hank Jr. picked up his new girlfriend at said high school sweetheart’s funeral. I could’ve worded that all less confusingly, but trust me, you don’t really need to know the details, because as you can tell from this strip Hank Jr.’s gonna be dead of a massive coronary by next week at the latest.

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Blondie, 9/28/22

Look, I don’t want to dwell on the technical details here, which seem to be based on the misconception that “well you look at Instagram on your phone so your account must be on your phone somewhere.” I instead want to engage with this strip on a narrative level. What exactly is the dangerous stalker planning to do with Elmo’s account? Post declarations of love from him to her? Send poison pen DMs to his friends and her potential romantic rivals? This is a significant escalation from snarky emojis and honestly he should be telling his parents about it, not some random unrelated neighbor-adult who sees the story primarily as being about the Kids Today, Who Are Not As Good As We Were When We Were Kids.

Daddy Daze, 9/28/22

Wait, did we know that the Daddy Daze daddy’s goth friend’s son was a teen? This is really opening up a lot of fun possibilities, honestly. I can’t decide if this kid is himself a goth, like a mini-me version of his dad, or instead has gone full on jock or preppie, as an act of defiance. Anyway, check out panel four here, where the dude has decided that blinding himself with scalding hot coffee is the logical next step in his story.

Hi and Lois, 9/28/22

Absolutely love that Hi has decided to rebel against the total overload we’re facing in the age of Too Much Streaming Content by engaging with the world as he assumes our primitive ancestors did: by reading a print magazine about golf. It’s clear from his facial expression that it didn’t work, but I’m proud of him for making the attempt.

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Daddy Daze, 9/27/22

The lure of doing a comic strip about a baby is eternal, but of course each generation will do their own particular version reflecting their ethos, worldview, and material conditions; and the fact that a syndicated comic strip is essentially a lifelong sinecure lets us contrast the varying generational attitudes directly against one another. Take Marvin, for instance: launched in 1982, as the Baby Boom generation was coming into its own and America was shaking off its post-Vietnam malaise, its title character represents the bold and unapologetic national attitude of the era: yes, Marvin shits and pisses himself constantly, and no he won’t apologize for it or learn how to stop. It’s someone else’s problem and the thought of them dealing with it makes him smile!

The Daddy Daze baby, on the other hand, is a creature of our current neurotic age. Like Marvin, he is unable to prevent himself from befouling his diaper several times a day, but his usual gleeful mania is actually just a pose, masking a deep, gnawing anxiety about all the pooping and the peeing. He knows he’s disgusting and he desperately wants to learn to use a toilet, but also knows that, as a baby in a syndicated comic strip, he’s never going to reach that promised land and well just be stewing in his own waste for all eternity.

Gasoline Alley, 9/27/22

Say what you will about Gasoline Alley, and lord knows I’ve said a lot, but it remains a piece of true outsider art that’s somehow pumped into the reading lists of surviving loyal newspaper readers across the English-speaking world. Can you imagine tricking major publishers into printing the sentence “Blimey, my red sock has entangled itself betwixt the keys and rendered me immobile for the moment” in thousands of newspapers as some sort of avant-garde action, or maybe as a prank? Of course not, and yet everyone involved in the process that produced this strip thinks it’s normal, wholesome fun. No, I am absolutely not going to explain what’s happening here, by the way, you don’t need to know and don’t particularly want to, trust me.

Gil Thorp, 9/27/22

No! No! We cannot lose Coach Kaz! I don’t care if the Time Corps has recruited him as an agent in our nation’s shadowy war against those who would alter the space-time continuum — we need his antics in Milford!

Funky Winkerbean, 9/27/22

My immediate reaction to the first panel of this strip is that Jessica wanted Darrin to somehow make the gun that Plantman used to murder her father into a plaything for their son. But then, based on everyone’s facial expressions, by the end of the strip I decided she actually wanted it made into some sort of sex toy. I’m not well, but in my defense, neither is Funky Winkerbean.