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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Judge Parker, 3/21/05

“But seriously, Josh,” I hear you asking, “What’s been happening in Judge Parker for the past month?” Well, I’ll tell you: a whole lot of nothing (or, as they say in the strip’s current south-of-the-border locale, nada). Sam has arrived in Mexico, spoken with Gloria, and gone back with this priest to his church. That’s taken something like five weeks. It makes Mary Worth look like a Jerry Bruckheimer movie. The strip is so parched for excitement that an entirely gratuitous exclamation point has been added to the first panel’s exposition in an attempt to make the “short drive out of town” sound like some kind of adrenaline-fueled car chase sequence.

That being said, I’m kind of intrigued by the underlying religio-cultural tensions in today’s dialog between Sam and Father David. To that end, I’d like to introduce what could (if I feel like it) become the first installment of an occasional feature: What They Say and What They Mean.

What he says What he means
Sam “What a beautiful church … and in such good shape!” I didn’t think you filthy Mexicans were capable of keeping anything clean for more than hour, let alone maintain actual non-shanty buildings.
David “Thanks! Its first mass was performed in 1522!” That’s only three years after Cortez got here! We sure didn’t waste any time with that whole elimination of native cultures routine.
Sam “If only these walls could talk!” You’ve probably got some kind of animatronic talking saint diorama set up to bilk your feeble-minded papist parishioners, eh Padre?
David “They do! Follow me … the mission house is in the back!” That’s where I do all my altar-boy-cornholing. Watch your back, gringo!

Um … OK, so that was in poor taste. Watch this space for a future installment of What They Say and What They Mean, assuming I’m not fleeing for my life from the combined forces of the Jesuits and the federales.

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For Better Or For Worse, 3/20/05

So very, very disturbing. So very, very, very low on my list of potential FBOFW erotic fantasy sequences, coming in just below the Deanna’s mom-on-Lovey lesbian scene. I hope that, when I get so old that my sex life happens entirely in my head, my meanderings aren’t so clichéd.

Now, many of you have already remarked on this unpleasant bit of business in the comments section, so what do I have contribute? Well, in panel two there, if those where real Greek letters, Grandpa would be getting something called rsrreums poured on his head. There, no need to thank me, that’s what we in the biz call a value-add. Those six semesters of Greek sure were a good investment for the future. Yesiree.

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Mary Worth, 3/19/05

How torn up is Anna about her raging infertility problems? Even when she’s alone in the apartment, she has to switch from speaking aloud to no one in particular to encapsulating her exposition in silent thought balloons when ruminating on her stony insides. Poor Anna! If she can’t even say it to herself, how is she going to tell the fecund baby-making machine that is Dr. Brian?

On the other hand, she may just be worried that he’s got the place bugged. If I were looking for hidden microphones, I’d be checking behind that “starving artist quality at starving artist prices” seaside landscape on the wall there, Anna. The newlyweds seem to be so busy not getting pregnant that they haven’t had time to decorate the place beyond the Motel 6 level.