Comment of the Week

I eat again at the so-called Soul Food place, and yet again I fail to consume a soul. Am I misinterpreting the signs, or is this place lying to me? The owner pries into my writing. I tell him only truth, and he seems troubled. Perhaps his soul is troubled. I could calm it. I could devour it. His partner is nowhere to be seen. The restaurant is empty. Today I will eat soul food.

Voshkod

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The Phantom, 5/23/05

Here’s a good example of why it would be incredibly unwise of King Features to cater to my secret desire to take over the writing duties at Apartment 3-G: I’d want to change stuff around, put my own imprint on it, realize my artistic vision. Most readers at home would be horrified. “WHAT? Tommie has a nose ring now? Margo wears high heels? Lu Ann isn’t a total moron? What the hell is this?”

Here’s something that’s been bothering me for the past few weeks in The Phantom: the Bandar have been looking especially short ever since the new artists took over. In fact, before Walker’s plucky African friends made their appearance in this storyline, I didn’t think they were supposed to be little people. Offensive ethnic stereotypes in bizarre hats, yes; actual Pygmies, no. This strip illustrates that they were always supposed to be short of stature, but apparently the previous artists didn’t feel a need to be all in-your-face about their Pygmosity. The new guy (or guys, or gals, or whatever) clearly had a vision for the strip, though, and it involved the Bandar being extra Pygmy-y. And what thanks do they get from longtime readers like myself? Nothing but complaints and disgruntlement and confusion.

Of course, the seven-foot-tall candle in panel two may indicate that the new team is just another tragic victim of Jack-Elrod-Crappy-Perspective-itis.

Incidentally, faithful reader Sue Trowbridge, currently serving as a foreign correspondent for TCC in Stockholm, writes to inform me that the Swedes, or at least the Swedes who read the same newspaper as her aunt, love The Phantom; she promises to scan and send in some Swedish-language Phantom action upon her return to the States. She doesn’t mention any Swedish versions of Hagar the Horrible, but presumably the Swedes’ proud Viking sense of honor, combined with their well-known dislike for Norwegians, precludes them from following his adventures.

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Apartment 3-G, 5/22/05

That may look like just another Wildly Inappropriate Margo Reaction Shot™ in the last panel, which is why Lu Ann is ignoring it and continuing her clumsy dumb-girl flirting. But Margo’s eyes are a little too wide and glassy — I’m beginning to worry that “custodian” is her secret sleeper agent code-word, and that by uttering it Scott has accidentally transformed her into a merciless zombie assassin. Quick, guys, run for higher ground!

Assuming that zombie-Margo doesn’t crack their heads open and feast on their succulent brains, it looks like Lu Ann and Scott are off to a good start: he doesn’t seem to have minded her horrible classist assumptions about him, and the crippling learning disability that leaves her unable to remember the punchlines of simple jokes will also keep her from noticing how often he compares her to his mother. Sadly, however, I fear that one of Scott’s own stereotype-based assumptions — that Lu Ann is blonde and stupid, and therefore easy — is going to come back to bite him in the ass.

Meanwhile, in one of the most egregious instances of soap opera strip laziness ever, Monday’s Apartment 3-G doesn’t just recap Sunday’s action — it actually just copies the dialogue, word for word. Don’t think we don’t notice this stuff, you bums!

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Sally Forth, 5/21/05

Poor, poor Ted. I have to admit that I’ve enjoyed watching his befuddlement this week as his romantic European getaway has been transformed into a hellish family trek through the abomination that is Euro Disney (“all the culture and fun of Disney World, but full of Dutch and German tourists!”) through a process that he cannot control and only dimly understands. Sally’s cutting, emasculating comment in panel three is just the coup de grâce as his hopes and dreams are gutted. Have fun, Ted!

Since we’re picking on Sally’s hubby, I offer him a bit of travelling advice: Ted, lose the polo shirt before you travel overseas. You might as well just have a sign that says “I am an American, please harass/spit on/pickpocket me.” Take a cue from your wife: her all-black ensemble will help her blend right in.