Tune in tomorrow as Rev. Croom embarks on a new life of selective observance. He'll dine and dash (thou shalt not steal), covet Herb's wife, murder Jamaal, and make a graven image, but he'll at least call his mom to wish her a happy birthday (honor thy father and mother). The funnies haven't been this theologically bold since Judge Parker financed the construction of a giant needle big enough for a dozen camels to thread.
The fact that the writer for Sally Forth is a regular reader of this blog is all well and good, but here’s a really exciting fact: I just received a picture for my merchandise ad featuring Fence Post Frank himself!
What’s that on the tip of the shovel, Frank? Dirt — or Buck’s blood?
Anyway, y’all should keep them pictures comin’! And, of course, you should continue purchasing Comics Curmudgeon crap.
Non Sequitur, 4/25/05
I’m not going to beat around the bush here: I think Wiley, of Wiley fame, is going insane. I think we can all agree that his Sunday strips have slowly evolved from tepid, ham-handed satires (e.g., “Esme in the Land Before Time” or what have you) into completely whacked-out text-heavy Jules Verne pastiches involving floating Victorian cities, mustachioed balloon-sized men right out of a Thomas Nast cartoon, and pterodactyls being shot out of the sky by evil harpoon-wielding Germans. This has been alternating with weekly strips that have for months now focused relentlessly on Danae, the most evil little girl who has ever lived, who is apparently supposed to represent the horror that is modern American life, only without the charm. Today, however, we’re taking things in a new direction, as we’re apparently going to be treated to a series about a dead hobo’s adorable puppy finding his own way in the world. I’m sure it will be uplifting and won’t make you once want to shoot yourself in the head. Hopefully.
From Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 4/24/05
Only the throwaway front-matter gag is worth commenting on in Sunday’s BB & SS, and it’s only worth commenting on to the extent that it enrages me. But boy, does it enrage me. Here’s a tip: when you make jokes that emphasize the weird, Depression-era limbo in which these hill folks seem to live most of the time, sometimes the strip is amusing. When you take transient catchphrases from the late ’90s and try to play them off as “cool,” it just feeds my rage … rage … RAGE!
Anyway, since I have nothing to say about these panels except that I hate them, I thought I’d turn to more pleasant matters and point out that I am slowly but surely falling in love with the “next” teasers that come at the end of Sunday editions of Spider-Man. They’re ludicrously overblown, no doubt on purpose. There’s this:
And this:
And, my personal favorite, this:
Yes, who does have the rhino? I’m sure there are versions of these that you can come up with for other comic strips, which exercise I leave to you, my eager commenting minions of humorous evil.