Haifisch posted:

1979 comics

Darthemed posted:

Docks

Vargo posted:

Wallace the Brave


Curtis

LazyQ posted:

Mämmilä (December 11, 1993)

Johnny Walker posted:

The Phantom

Johnny Walker posted:

Mary Worth



Here's hoping we're in for a series of Drew's exes showing up and then mysteriously being murdered.

quote:

The Phantom



That's a pretty nice first panel.

LazyQ posted:

Mämmilä (December 11, 1993)

Barbara Ehrenreich posted:

First of all, it is not true that I am jealous of Sylvia. There’s room for all kinds in the social commentary business — my aunt in Iowa, for example, who covered the entire S&L crisis from her ironing board and still managed to get a high-fiber meal on the table every evening before “Jeopardy” (ed note: this collection was published in 1990). I am sure Sylvia could cook if she wanted to, and I never once suggested that there was something untoward about her rapid rise to fame — her spot in forty-five newspapers (very few of which are mimeographed)(ed: yep, sure is 1990), her cult following of millions (many of whom are able to follow complex ideas even without visual aids). It certainly wasn’t me who hinted darkly that no one could be so phenomenally successful if they didn’t have friends in very, very, high places.

No, it must have been George Will who said those things. And what working commentator can confront Sylvia’s range of subject matter — from macroeconomics to stretch marks, from foreign policy to kitty litter — without gnawing anxiously on his or her writing instrument — pencil or personal computer, as the case may be? We leave aside the startling range of media — taped phone messages (ed: lol), letters of advice, bathtub monologues, science fiction — that Sylvia deploys with such ease and versatility. I could write on my refrigerator too. I just don’t choose to.

Nor does it bother me that America’s top-flight intellectuals will one day hold entire conferences and seminars devoted to Sylviology. That they will deconstruct her frame by frame with straight edge and compass, attempting to identify each tiny object as an Artifact of Our Time (ed: that’s us!) and a clue to our condition. That they will bring in leading neurologists, phrenologists, and psychoanalysts to study the blabbermouth pets, the thimble-sized martinis, the neurotic superheroes, to answer the inescapable question: What kind of a mind...?

But with that out of the way, let me make it clear that I have not gone to the other extreme and accepted Sylvia as my personal guru and mentor. Many, many women have (ed: especially my mom). That’s their choice. I will admit, though, that like Sylvia, I have a problem with food stains (which is why I never buy a shirt that isn’t the color of marinara sauce). And, yes, I too am standing by encouragingly, waiting for some household pet, some goldfish, perhaps, or gerbil, to vacuum the floors. But these are superficial similarities, widespread across the population, and hardly the result of conscious imitation.

The fact is that I have criticisms. I maintain a boundary. I say, How is it possible to totally admire and worship someone who is afraid of food and a fool for cats (ed: see most of the internet)?The reason cats are so smug is that they have a plan for world domination — a plan which, as the pages ahead suggest, may already be in effect.

Now, of course there are commentators — very famous and important ones whose names I could drop if I wanted to — who are jealous of Sylvia. I have witnessed the great weeping and grinding of teeth that occurs in the National Press Club and the Corridors of Power whenever a new “Sylvia” hits the news stands. These famous and important commentators complain that she has sources that are inaccessible to the average working journalist. They point to her obvious familiarity with the heavenly host, the Evil One, with winged superheroes and extra planetary deadbeats. They mention her supernatural insight into matters of public policy, her ability to see, as with X-ray vision, through the stupefying drone of media rhetoric.

For all we know — let us be honest — that there is a Planet Sylvia. We know that it is a place where cats can write passable fiction (ed: suck it, Snoopy!), where women are free to go out of doors without eyeliner and eat large portions of fries in public. We know that this distant world is the true source of Sylvia’s insights, and that it is a place where one’s wildest dreams — as for a tasty diet beverage or a race of humble, kindly public officials — are readily realized. We know that it is terribly far away, but not so far that every detail on earth cannot be seen from it, with stunning clarity and perspective. And we know that its atmosphere is not only breathable, but induces a delirious sense of lucidity, unknown on our own dank orb (ed: dank orbs, nice), except to the mystically enlightened and abusers of nitrous oxide (ed: ).

So go there if you want. I don’t care. Just one warning (and if Sylvia had the least sense of social responsibility she would have told you this herself): Once you’ve been there, it’s not that easy to get back to this wretched place, or to ever fit in again with the yuppies (ed: 1990), the health snobs, the couch potatoes, the two-faced insurance executives and purveyors of military hardware. Unless you take the cats’ advice, as they prepare to send the little lost girl back to the world of humans, and — pointing to a UFO in the sky — tell her, “Pretend you didn’t see it.”

SubNat posted:

Moomin Winter

EBB posted:

Wine Club For Men

Strontium posted:

Take It From the Tinkersons

Johnny Walker posted:

The Phantom



That's a pretty nice first panel.

EasyEW posted:

Blondie From Zero (September 22-24, 1930)

Pancho Jueves posted:

There's something about that look in his eyes...

EasyEW posted:

COVID Winkerplague

Pancho Jueves posted:

There's something about that look in his eyes...

EasyEW posted:

Blondie From Zero (September 22-24, 1930)

Kennel posted:

I see Gyro Gearloose stole Kertalaaki™ formula from Moomins.

[...]
[...]
[...]

Pancho Jueves posted:

There's something about that look in his eyes...

SubNat posted:

God, those stories were great. It was always a treat when some Don Rosa story popped up in the weekly Donald Duck comic.
I really need to get around to getting some of the Don Rosa collections.

Slammy posted:

Those Were the Days (October 22, 1953)

Slammy posted:

Outbursts of Everett True (August 9, 1918)

quote:

Bibliotechno Music posted:

Dad is right because the tines are what you put in your mouth, and not having them against the plastic grating means that there’s more surface area exposed to the hot water and soap and rinsing agent

howe_sam posted:

My parents have a dishwasher which neatly sidesteps this conundrum by having a third rack where you lay the silverware down on its side.

EasyEW posted:

COVID Winkerplague

riderchop posted:

For Better or For Worse

riderchop posted:

For Better or For Worse

Julet Esqu posted:

For God's sake, Lynn, she is a baby.