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Shoe, 9/28/20

A thing I will never get tired of is the facial expressions in Shoe, which convey a message that is very much not “ha ha, we’re birds but we think we’re people!” and really much more “God, the burden of existence is crushing.” The Perfesser’s look in panel one is one that we’re used to, basically conveying the message that everything has been going so badly for so long that he can’t feel anything any more; Irv, on the other hand, is looking at his phone with a narrow-eyed rage that I honestly find refreshing. Sure, he’s made a lot of money off this car over the years, but it’s garbage, you understand, garbage, and he refuses to work on it anymore. It offends him as a mechanic that it’s even in his garage, and he’s tired of the Perfesser not recognizing this essential truth.

Mary Worth, 9/28/20

I love how everyone’s take on Iris at this point is “She seems in good spirits, but we don’t see her around much, because of all the sex she’s having.” This isn’t just idle gossip, though: Mary is of course the main power on the Charterstone condo board, and Toby, with Madi’s help, cemented her own influence with a perfect dessert. It seems like somebody is going to be dragged before the next board meeting, confronted with the HOA bylaws about owner occupancy, and slut-shamed into paying some hefty fines.

Mark Trail, 9/28/20

Wow, did Mark have to sleep on the couch because his open weeping about Andy was too annoying? That is ice cold, Cherry.

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Marvin, 9/27/20

It’s become something of a cliche for me to complain on this here blog about how the widely syndicated newspaper comic strip Marvin is just obsessed with poop, but I have to say that I can’t remember of an instance of them actually just showing a steaming turd in the strip? (Other than the noxious title character, of course! [ba-dum-dum]) That’s why I confess I’m vaguely intrigued that the punchline (“punchline”) panel here depicts snowdrift-thick piles of bird shit on Jeff’s car. Why do you suppose they can get away with that and not actual Marvin poop? My guess it’s because bird crap looks just different enough from our own excrement (since this is a Sunday strip, it’s colored by the original artist and really captures that real-life white-brown tinge) that it’s not quite as taboo, but … I dunno man, I feel like this is testing our boundaries and we need to launch a prim letter-writing campaign about community standards or things could get very, very dark in this strip. (Dark brown, I mean, because we’re going to be seeing lots of drawings of Marvin’s feces.)

Hagar the Horrible, 9/27/20

Hagar has come back from a long voyage robbing and pillaging, and his house seems to have been abandoned — maybe his family has left him, or maybe they’ve been kidnapped and enslaved by a rival raiding Viking band. Or they could just be dead! Hagar doesn’t seem to care much, though. Ha … ha?

Dustin, 9/27/20

I’m choosing to believe that Meg overheard yesterday’s stupid conversations about redundancies, got as mad about it as I did, and is now just rubbing her dad’s nose in it so he never, ever brings up the subject again.

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Dustin, 9/26/20

You know, for a brief, shining moment, I assumed the joke here was that “tuna” just means “fish” in its language of origin, and I thought to myself that “Hey, the few seconds I spent thinking about Dustin today won’t be wasted, for once, because I’ve learned something,” but nope, it turns out the word tuna ultimately derives from the Greek thynnos, which means, well, tuna. So “tuna fish” may be repetitive in that you’re naming a thing and then the larger category of thing that the thing belongs to, but it’s repetitive in an entirely different way than when you name a team after a city, but do so by translating the city’s name into English. And let’s not even get into how the team was for decades called the California Angels, which was actually a fairly clever way to nod to L.A. while claiming territory all over the state after they moved to Orange County, and only recently changed to Los Angeles Angels and it was a whole big controversy! Anyway, the big news is that I got so mad about this that I wasted a lot more than a few seconds thinking about Dustin today.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/26/20

Man, who could forget the Glenwood Motel, the depressing place where Truck was forced to quarantine in isolation for days because he was suffering from a persistent respiratory illness? Normally you’d say this experience was a terrible theme for a song, but occasionally, an artist stumbles into his perfect historical moment.