Blondie & Dagwood: A Breed Apart

On the surface, the Bumsteads appear to have it made. Their problems are typical, even mundane. Dagwood naps too much. His boss is a dick. His daughter's boobs are conspicuously large. His wife... well, Blondie is pretty much perfect. It's like the plot of (insert your favorite fat guy/hot wife sitcom). Except the guy isn't fat. Whatever.

Upon closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that there's something completely f'd up about this family: the men and women come from different species. The ladies have this weird hyper-realistic thing going on (their impressive proportions notwithstanding). They have real-lookin' mouths and eyes, for example. Then the guys have this weird hyper-retarted thing going on. The vertical, oval eyes with no whites. And the mouths? Simple black lines. Then there are those terrifying tufts of hair they have jutting out like alien antennae. Shit's weird.

So... what the hell is going on here? Are the Bumstead men aliens? Is Blondie aware she's been shagging a martian all these years? Is Julius C. Dithers wrapped up in all this?!??! Hell if I know. I just complain about the stuff.

Ziggy, Enemy of Pants

Ziggy. I don't know what it says about our society that we've spent 40 years following a guy whose sole purpose in life is to get shit on and be sad. Something bad. But something was recently brought to my attention that made me understand Ziggy in a whole new way. No, not the fact that he has cankles, or that he only smiles on T-shirts, or that he has the physical proportions of a chode. But the fact that the guy NEVER WEARS ANY GODDAMN PANTS. I'd be depressed too if I spent every day doddling about in a muumuu. It's like, come on, guy, at least get yourself a nice pair of sweatpants. I think sweats would suit Ziggy quite well. God, I love sweatpants. If I had a job, I'd put them on every day as soon as I got home from work.

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Farley>Blondie

Not funny:

Super funny:

Cell Phone Jokes = Cutting Edge

The sad men and women who write the comics are generally behind the eight ball when it comes to technological trends. Considering their medium, this should come as no great shock. But when they find out about one, boy, they really go to town with it. In like two years, Twitter jokes will envelop the comics page. In the meantime, we have cell phone gags. I counted three today: Zits, Curtis (both respectable strips IMO), and the most egregious (read: unfunny) offender, Drabble. Oh god, did I just say IMO? No matter. What matters is that I wnt to tk a ft sht on Drbbl.
Ladies and gentleman, let's hear it for the star of the strip, college student Norman Drabble. I definitely wanna read about that guy.

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I, Curmudgeon

I can't help feeling a bit like Garfield when I do this blog. These hapless bastards are out there toiling away on their little strips, putting time and effort (albeit very, very little) into making us smile while we eat our breakfast or ride the train. And I just sit here ragging on 'em. Well, that's why I posted this awesome panel from yesterday's Pearls Before Swine. Because occasionally the comics surprise you and pull a sweet drawing of a pirate out of their ass.

Along the same lines, I've really been digging Brewster Rockit: Space Guy! as of late. This week's is about a facehugger:


On second thought, I don't like the way this post is turning out. Comics like these are one in a million. Or, like, one in ten. We need a hard dose of reality to bring us back to Earth:

Hahaha! Moldy cake shaving! ROFLOLOLOL. Fail.

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Garfield Loves Blogs, Mondays

Garfield is usually at its worst on Mondays, because, as we all know, Garfield hates Mondays. I share the cat's opinion, but really, the day is rough enough without having to hear him bitch about it. Today Jim Davis opted not to make the "Monday" joke for the zillionth time; he no doubt spent the day swollen with pride at having taken the "high road." Things start off well enough with the sight gag in the second panel (I kind of like the deranged lunatic thing Jon has going on), but then the strip goes and spoils any good will it may have created. Just thinking about a Garfield blog started to piss me off. "A mouse scared Jon today. I love lasagna. I hate Nermal. I hate Mondays." Ad nauseum. If Garfield had his own blog, it would suck worse than this one. Though it probably wouldn't be as ugly.

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Blondie's Daughter Has Big Boobs

Nothing particularly funny about today's Blondie (shocker). Bookmarking recipes. Heh. But sweet Jesus, take a look at Cookie Bumstead! Girlfriend is sporting a midriff-baring tank top that barely contains her massive bosom--and this while she's just hangin' around the house. One second you're reading about mint jelly, struggling to stay awake, and BAM! There're underage D-cups prancing across the page. That's some PG-13 shit right there. For real.

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Beardface the Horrible

In the pantheon of fat, lazy, chauvinistic, and yet (ostensibly) beloved cartoon husbands, Homer Simpson probably ranks as No. 1. Fred Flintstone is like No. 4, Peter Griffin's No. 12, and Leroy Lockhorn is No. 19 or something. Hagar the Horrible comes in around No. 437. Never before has a fat schmuck who drinks too much and sucks at his job been less amusing. Today it's not even clear what moronic thing he's done to upset his wife. It doesn't much matter; it would've failed to entertain. On the plus side, his beard does cover his entire face.

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Mother Goose & Medicare

Today Mother Goose and Grimm got topical on us with a middling wisecrack about health care. No thanks. Personally, though, I'm in favor of these death panels Obama's been raving about. Like, for disposing of cartoonists who long ago stopped contributing anything worthwhile, or even mildly humorous, to the alleged "funny" pages. I'm lookin' at you, Jim Davis.

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Drabble---->Gin

This strip is funny because Ralph's wife has literally come home with the entire grocery store. Just LOOK at all those groceries. Then again, that sly fox Ralph may just be engaging in a bit of hyperbole. What the hell is hyperbole? Drabble makes me want to drink.

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