I was a devoted funny-page reader when I was younger. I’d crack open the Washington Post in front of my Eggo Minis and thumb to the comics page every morning so I could be sure that I was clued in on that day’s happenings in the world of Hagar the Horrible.
But as I greedily read pages of comics that, in retrospect, could be described as “funny, technically,” there were still a few that never clicked. At first, I’d give them my best furrowed stare, made even more infuriating by my parents laughing over my shoulder at something that seemed, to me, to be complete nonsense. I understand that not all comic strips were aimed at 15-and-unders, but put them in their own little “grown-up” square, or tuck them in next to the crossword or something.
Don’t leave Doonesbury next to Opus, with a bunch of tweens trying to figure out what’s so inherently funny about the George W. Bush era.
Doonesbury
Doonesbury might be the most iconic “why is this here?” funny-paper inclusion of all time. Look, I understand it’s very important and award-winning and so on and so forth. But to a child, it’s in the comics, so it’s supposed to be for you. Slap it in the politics section if you need to, instead of creating this weird dynamic where I’m expected to hand them over to my dad when I’m done so he can “see the Doonesbury” and laugh a laugh that makes me feel like I will never understand this world.
I mean, come on! You can’t even get past the first panel without knowing what a “master class” is, the word “rigorously” and the concept of Socratic dialogue. You’re not just aiming for an adult audience, you’re erecting an impenetrable fortress for a kid who’s just trying to see some funny ducks. Even now, knowing what Socratic dialogue is, I still don’t think Doonesbury is as funny as it is just meant to make somebody who does know what Socratic dialogue is feel smart.
Mallard Fillmore
Speaking of funny ducks. At least Doonesbury had the courtesy to fill itself with almost completely immobile adults in profile. And so, it wasn’t exactly demanding attention. On the other hand was the strip Mallard Fillmore, the name of which is a pun on U.S. president from 1850-1853, Millard Fillmore, giving you a good idea of the sort of fun you’re in for.
The titular character is a fun cartoon duck, but if you thought you were in for hijinks, your baby self was in for disappointment, because this cartoon duck is a conservative reporter at a fake D.C. news station. It also frequently had every kid’s favorite thing: footnotes.
Prince Valiant
There are many sources that trumpet Prince Valiant as one of the greatest accomplishments in comic history. To these people, may I recommend: books. I have to assume that’s what they’d prefer, and as an added bonus, you don’t need to wait to be issued one sentence’s worth of action a fucking week. God forbid the creator be put on the breakneck schedule of coming up with ideas like “Prince Valiant gets on his horse” more than once every seven days.
As a fantasy nerd and lifelong sword guy, Prince Valiant should’ve been my shit. Unfortunately, a combination of the dumbest haircut in history and a desire to see a battle play out in less than a three-month timespan, instead of being drip-fed single sword swings over the course of an entire school year, made me hate it.
Sally Forth
I am talking about the newspaper comic Sally Forth, not the erotic comic of the same name distributed to troops so they could jerk off overseas. Editors mixing up the two and publishing a frame from the latter was the best chance this comic had of eliciting (illiciting?) any emotion from me as a 13-year-old. The newspaper Sally Forth is instead, about the daily life of a 40-year-old woman working in HR, and her husband Ted who works in “strategic sourcing.” Basically, it’s the exact opposite of erotica.
Zippy the Pinhead
When I was a kid, I assumed that Zippy the Pinhead would make sense to me when I was older. It does not.
