Post Content

I closed my eyes.

There was a sound like that of the gentle closing of a portal as big as the sky, the great door of heaven being closed softly.
It was a grand AH-WHOOM.

I opened my eyes—and all the sea was ice-nine.

The moist green earth was a blue-white pearl.

Cat’s Cradle © 1963 by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

For Better or For Worse 9/3/07

Today is Fööberdämmerung — launch of the new, frozen phase of For Better or For Worse.

Well, so they say. In fact, the strip road-tested its “Mike ‘n’ Meredith” photo-reminiscence gimmick back in July — so nothing really begins today. And the current storylines, including the one with Canada’s Favourite Couple, won’t treacle out until early next year — so nothing ends, either. In fact, despite the announcements and interviews, there is no actual event here — it’s like Canadian Grandparents’ Day or something.

Whatever the timeline, I’m conflicted about the conversion of FOOB into a zombie/rerun hybrid:

 Gee!

  • It’ll be nice to see the old strips again. They were good!
  • The author is doing the responsible thing for her staff. Nice!
  • Good way to ease into retirement and keep an income stream going. You go, girl!
  • But!

  • Reruns of a serial won’t attract new readers, and nostalgia is mighty thin gruel.
  • Hey, 2,000 papers! There’s plenty of new talent out there — give somebody else a chance, eh?
  • Twenty-eight years is a great run — retire, already!
  • And Yikes!

  • FOOB is now all Michael, all the time.
  • Despite all the buildup, the FOOBocalypse turns out to be precisely nothing — perfectly congruent with the way the strip manages characters and events, and oddly satisfying.

    AH-WHOOM

    — Uncle Lumpy

    Post Content

    For Better Or For Worse, 7/4/07

    Hey, kids, didn’t your mothers ever teach you to either say something nice or not say anything at all? Well, I’m going to say something nice. I profoundly respect Liz an’ Anthony’s decision to flee in terror at the prospect of being forced into a conga line. That’s just good common sense.

    On the note of their kissing and simul-thought-balooning, well, I … uh … BLAARRRGGGGGH.

    There, it’s not saying anything if it’s vomiting.

    Mary Worth, 7/4/07

    Aw, yeah, it’s a CAT FIGHT FOR DR. DREW’S LOVE! Dawn Weston, who I believe (despite the evidence of her baby blue high-waisted slacks) is supposed to a college student, will have the advantages of youth, but I predict that those will not be able to stack up against Vera’s tightly-wound rage-filled nature. More entertaining will be the proxy battle for meddling supremacy between the two young people’s respective champions. Wilbur “Ask Wendy” Weston has, one must assume, always harbored a resentment against Mary, since his newspaper column yenta persona is clearly a pale imitation of the puppet master with whom he shares a condo complex. They’re both looking their best — Mary has finally managed to find a cravat the exact same color as her shirt, and Wilbur has gotten those five strands of hair to lay across his scalp just so — which will make it all the more satisfying when they tumble into the pool, hands locked around each other’s throats.

    Gil Thorp, 7/4/07

    “So, kids, the history lesson you learned this semester was: People who appear to be helpful, friendly authority figures are in most cases desperately needy frauds.”

    Rex Morgan, M.D. 7/4/07

    Oh, really, Rex, this isn’t right. Your wife saw him first. He’s just a simple teenage street hustler for New Orleans; he’s used to doing what he has to do, getting his money, and getting out. He isn’t emotionally prepared for the horrifying snake pit that is the Morgan marriage. Being caught in the Rex/June web of sexual spite is going to make him long for the comforting arms of FEMA.

    God only knows what the good doctor is doing with that tennis racket. Presumably he found it next to the tackle box and thinks it’s part of the fishing equipment.

    Family Circus, 7/4/07

    The social worker had seen a lot of awful things in his years working for Child Protective Services, but there was something about this case that he just couldn’t get out of his mind. After a child’s agonizing death from salmonellosis, you’d expect the mother to be pretty rattled. But all this one kept saying — at the investigation, and later at the trial — was “He asked for it. It was what he wanted.” That was bad enough, but it was her little half smile that the social worker kept flashing back to while he was trying to fall asleep. Spookiest thing he ever saw, by God.