This took me a minute, as I don’t often use “home” for a physical house, the building.
For anyone not familiar with the comic, the character on the right, Lyndon, is a psychiatrist or therapist. So Freudian slips are like his stock in trade. But there is something funny in how this patient or client responds to the “Say again?” with an almost-repetition and not acknowledging he has made a correction.
An excellent OY that also had me at least chuckling out loud.
(But I have to confess I don’t know who the guy on the right is. I hope his identity wasn’t another part of the joke.)
Thanks to Rob for these next two OYs (and some hard-to-classify strips coming up elsewhere on the site):
I guess I’m wrong here — I would have said this doesn’t work unless he actually says “Heckuva” (variation possible for the c and/or k, but the v obligatory). But the crowd at GoComics seemed to take it in stride.
Andréa says “We’ve had a pool for five years now, and other than kids peeing in it (which is why only dogs and adults are allowed in ours), I don’t understand this. Chlorine is MORE necessary when it’s warm and sunny . . . and yes, I remember we had some kind of discussion about kids in pools quite a while ago.”
What I even more don’t get is what the four descending inset panels are doing here at all. When are they taking place? In what way do they relate to the dialogue?
Thanks to Dana K for this Today’s Szep. The main joke is easy enough: the mere unlikely existence of this rack and these categories of card message. But what is all that ancillary action supposed to be about? Do these two know each other? Or is the woman just a judgemental bystander? Is she saying something, or just standing there with her jaw dropping?
On the first hand, this seems to me an excellent job of working out a technical experiment in the art of cartooning. Color-coding the speech bubbles could represent an improvement on trying to aim the pointers with precision, or stretching them around, or finding a basis for making the comic multi-panel so the dialogue can be rearranged.
But OTOH, the content of the dialogue is miles away from being at all funny. And is not even folk-wise, in that pseudo-deep way Frazz is so fond of trying.
Kilby also presents a judgement dilemma. “When a cartoonist recycles an ancient joke (albeit with ‘improvements’), is it better (A) To admit the crime, or (B) Just pretend that nobody will notice how ancient the gag really is?”
A classic case of “Oops!” from Le Vieux Lapin. Oops, I forgot to draw a cloud that looks like a comma.
These two we noticed on sequential days in Maria’s Day. Since that strip is on a reruns cycle at GoComics, the actual dates of the recent appearance were 31 August and 01 September, but apparently the original publication was on 10 and 11 November of some year.
Thanks to Chemgal for sending this in, and identifying two areas of doubt: 1) Though not a public designated observance, the 7-Eleven company, at least in Canada, has traditionally marked the 7/11 date with promotional giveaways. Is Mallett just unaware of this? 2) Wot th’heck do the last two panels mean? A mystery, in themselves and in their relationship to the first nine panellettes.
P.S. A Geezer identification question — Do you remember when 7 AM to 11 PM were in actual fact the hours for 7-Eleven stores?
From DanV, who says “The first two panels of today’s Frazz were clear enough. But then Frazz starts talking about the kid’s pants. Even if I did understand what that had to do with the conversation (which I don’t), where is the joke?”
Kilby sent this to me asking whether Tralfamadorian is mainstream enough to be used here (leading to my question of what a “Tralfamadorian year” is)
(By the way, this post was actually supposed to go live before B.A.‘s question — but that’s easier said than done when you’ve lost track of days of the week. Maybe we’re all on Tralfamadorian time now)
And that led to whether Calvin and Hobbes had any business using “Weltanschauung” some years back.
And likewise the Washington Post’s recent use of a long German word (redundant, I know), without italics, which apparently both he and I noticed at the time although neither of us remembers what the word was.