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Pearls Before Swine, 1/9/05

I guess I’ve always assumed that there’s some kind of “gentleman’s agreement” among comic artists not to mock each other’s work, no matter how much it sucks. The only person I can think of who has violated this rule is Berke Breathed, whose hostility towards Garfield is public and relentless. So I have to say that I’m rather pleased to see Pearls Before Swine publicly declare Cathy to be “filled with folks who utter inanity after inanity,” not just because it’s obviously true, but because it may herald the beginning of a bitter and unseemly spat within the supposedly cozy fraternity of comic artists. Will we see Cathy and Irving’s dogs charging into the underbrush to tear thinly disguised versions of Pearls Before Swine’s mouse and pig characters to bits? Will Thebigday.com offer Cathy readers an opportunity to help pay for a contract on Stephan Pastis’ life? Whatever the outcome, all I can say is that Ms. Guisewite will not be pleased, and her wrath shall be terrible.

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B.C., 1/8/05

I know, it’s been literally weeks since I last tore into B.C. So, at the risk of making a mockery of my be-nicer New Year’s resolution, I offer this strip up for you consideration. I’m not even going to bother dwelling on the ostensible joke of this strip, which (1) isn’t funny, (2) doesn’t really make sense, and (3) is about three years late, assuming it’s a stab at “topical humor.” Rather, I’d like to point out the prevalence of B.C. running gags that the call for the same art time after time. The “you know” jokes are a good example, though they have the slightly amusing conceit of some sort of stone-age, pedal-driven mechanical system for dispensing witticisms from a hemispherical stone. “The book of phrases,” meanwhile, just involves a book on top of a rock. Strangely, despite the fact that the humor in this strip would work just as well if the image of Peter looking at the book were cut and paste from the first panel to the second, if you look closely you can tell that this bland scene was in fact drawn twice. I suppose I should respect Johnny Hart’s old-school dedication to the fine art of manual art-creation, but, really, if it’s in the service of lame-ass Enron jokes, I must withhold my approbation.

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Luann, 1/7/05

Delivering … products? Is that like delivering “stuff”? Are there any comics out there any more that are immune from drug dealing plots?

On the other hand, if over the next few weeks Luann turns into a New Jack City-style gangsta epic that follows Dirk around as he simultaneously tries to keep Toni in the dark, plot his revenge against Brad, and move as much “product” as the market will handle, it might do what I have long thought impossible: make me care about this infuriatingly static love triangle.

Speaking of drug dealing, for those who are curious: it was cocaine on Kelly’s shoes yesterday, not meth. Lesson: don’t have your fish mounted by guys named “Barracuda.”