It's a scary world. Sometimes, in order to face our fears, we put up a defense mechanism. Act the part of the tough guy. But it's all a futile effort, because there is no tougher guy than God. Fists are nothing against the boulders he may or may not be able to make so heavy he can't lift. A broken bottle is naught against the power of thunderbolts, or the slow decay of entropy. When he asks you to say uncle, you shout "Yes Sir, Uncle God, may I have another." This is a story about a woman who thought she could out-bully the original bully, out-gangster the original gangster, out-asshole the original ass-hole. This is a story of humility and the vast, vast collateral damage it took to teach her a lesson.
It begins at an ending. We start off in the melancholy ambiance of a graveyard. You can tell it's a sad funeral, because it's so windy. You only have nice weather at funerals for police officers killed in the line of duty. For misfits or conspiracy-laden murders, it's wind and rain, wind and rain. But even then, the rain doesn't look like it felt much like showing up, because that's a pitsy-looking drizzle right there. Anyways, as sad as it is that it was a no-show event, there had to have been more tragic affairs. For instance, SIDS, or drunk drivers. I mean, I bet the guy here died of natural causes. Unless by "sad" he means, "the spread was really sad. I was once at a funeral that had pizza." He's more like a Zagat's than proselytizer of the dead, really.
"Old Man dies, Funeral Not Attended."What a scoop! Now granted, if one tirelessly combs the obituaries like a ghoul, yes, it will mention the deaths of even the most friendless of pariahs will be documented. But we usually don't recaps of the funeral; If this guy was important enough to get an article in the paper, then I'm not wrong in that there's a bit of a paradox in nobody showing up? Especially say, any reporters who wrote about it? I'm just saying, a lot of fuss is sure being made about this proverbial tree falling in the woods. If the town knew enough about it, but stayed away in droves anyways, they're kind of assholes, aren't they?
So Petunia, the dreaded scourge of this lovely little community, is set to inherit the house. Man, I bet most of you guys are regretting not warming up to Grandpa Parker now, huh? I bet getting in on that will had to be a cakewalk. Petunia must have really done a number on Becky, because time does not look like it's been very kind to her. She resembles a veritable bitty. As for the library burning down, the context seems to indicate Petunia's an antagonistic figure, but if she burns books willy-nilly, you'd think that would make her the hero of a Jack Chick piece.I'm also thinking, if "Grandpa Parker's" status as a grandfather is more an honorary that stuck, shouldn't he have been a somewhat more popular fellow in town? If the guy was a nasty, elderly recluse, he would probably be called "Old Man Parker" or "Mean Old Parker" or "I Haven't Seen My Dog in a Week Old Parker".
House will go to the state? What kind of federalist bullshit is that? The state does things like make you not say your prayers in school, or mandate Thanksgiving be called "Turkey Day." Also, in the next panel, you see Ms. Parker brandishing a piece, read to shoot that guy to oblivion. Guns are meant to protect us from those Godless liberals. Man, Jack's jumping the Commie Train across the Ukraine, if you ask me. The little guy seems to be afraid for his life, justifiably, but is then promising good news. I mean, under threat of death, I might phrase it all even more carefully.
Little lawyer guy, I'm going to be honest, you're in no place to judge, since you just tried to pass off the death of her father as "good news", because it meant she'd be getting real estate out of the deal. Petunia is remarkably uncomplicated. Kids who were molested usually have more mixed emotions. I suppose Petunia thinks closure is for pansies. I guess it also helps that she's moving on up, to the east side, now she has a piece of the pie. Because that shanty she has called home looks like it is so bare-bones that the roof is
thatched. You kind of wonder why she ran off to begin with though, because you would think if she was a such a textbook example of redneckitude, she would have still been cloistered in her nuclear family unit. It certainly doesn't appear she broke free of dad to pursue her dream of performing on stage in the big city.
Words to live by. "They'll hate you." It seems the kids just wanted a friend, but the madre has fed them a diet of poison. Well, metaphorically, although judging by Marge's figure, their literal diets probably aren't very nutritious either. They only have one mattress they're bringing with them on their entire road trip, so that just kind of conjures up the creepy image of them all sleeping together in a big pile. Or maybe Petunia just figures that her old room is untouched, as sad Grandpa Parker was holding on hope one day his daughter would return to him, but at least their was the neighborhood children, who would miss him when he was gone. Yeah, I just painted a depressing picture guys, but that's just the kind of emotional abyss these strips overlook.
One could say that they're just being neighborly, but their smug faces kind of suggest it's a dig. "Oh, is your husband here, or are you just a whore that independent-contracts your bastardly flock?" The Wilson's look like they're supposed to be characterizes of people, but for the life of me, I can't figure out whom. Anyways, Petunia explains the absence of the pader familia. They hung him last year? Is that still a thing? Either he committed a felony in Singapore or something, or that man got straight-up
lynched. Anyways, she doesn't like people, but she doesn't mind cake. So does the little tyke there, although I don't know if Jack is trying to symbolically tie it into Petunia's bosom, the way the boy is almost suckling at her, Game of Thrones style.
Okay, is that a banana, right here? On a computer? As in, a total parody of Macintosh computers? Never let it be said Jack doesn't know how to throw in his Easter Eggs of humor. Although it really is some kind of bizarro world when small town law enforcement is using the equivalents to Macs. I kind of wanted to see what the turn of events would be if John didn't "hang on"? Would have have done some dirty cop tactics? Plant heroin in her couch? Orchestrate a murder suicide? Dressed up as a gigolo on the street and arrested her for soliciting? (Because you know Petunia has needs that aren't being met.) They need to pull out all their tricks, because apparently, three youngsters of marginal size are too much for them to handle.
I'm wondering if things are supposed to work this way. If her kids are being rotten at school, it's a matter for the PTA. If they're committing grand theft auto, charge the little yard monsters for that. I don't know why they're some stumped as what to do with people that commit illegal acts. I love democracy as much as the next non-Churchgoer, but if actual transgressions of the law are being committed, you don't have to have a committee in the same way the community votes to decide whether they have a statue of the town founder or Robocop. Hell, if Petunia is encouraging the kids to their criminal behavior, and living in a squalor I personally wouldn't put past her, it's okay to call the DCYF.
Normally, credit should be given for having such a striking buster of stereptypes. Sure, the guy in the wifebeater and tattoo is in fact a righteous soul, never judge a book by it it's cover, etc. etc. But I'm suspecting this guy was probably a murderer or something worse, did the kneeling-and-getting-saved thing, and is now, what is called in police terms, "at large." Note the guy in the corner thinking what bullocks the whole affair is. Will this plot go anywhere? Nope, this is just old-school world-building, like Tolkien used to write. It's a whole rich, textured universe of sinners and...uh, more sinners.
"Stupid Little Sammy?" Hmm, Petunia wasn't exactly a gold medalist at deeming nicknames, was she? How about "Spam Jones"? "Scram, Jones!"? "Sam has a Jonesing for an ass kicking!"? "Sam I Am a Retard"? Okay, I admit she didn't have the advantage of the Sean Penn movie, but I'm just saying, did she use the word "Stupid" for every kid with an S-name? And considering Petunia's arsonist tendencies towards literacy, she might not have wanted to throw stones in that glass house. I'll forgive you for that." Okay, I think you just got served, Reverand Sammy. I'm not going to lie, you just opened yourself right up for that torpedo. I think what Jack is doing right here is pretty brilliant. Paradise Lost is considered one of the most seminal pieces of literature, and it was quite notorious for making Lucifer a more compelling figure than God himself, John Milton's intentions to the contrary. So what we have here is anti-religious figure who's retorts are duller than doll-heads, and nobody will be accidentally drawn into her point of view.
You get the sense the Parker clan is supposed to be tightly bonded, but look how miserable they are. Charlie takes after his father the most, and you can totally see how a man like that got by on his looks. To say nothing of hygiene. I think living under his father's shadow is putting the cracks on poor Charlie, because I can't tell if he's ornery or confused. He has the expression of the kind of person who can only say his own name, is what I'm saying. By contrast, middle child Austin carries with him an incredible swagger. I take he has the kind of "Cross me at your own peril" confidence built off from warding his older brother. Not because Charlie bullied him in the same way older brothers usually do, but because he would sometimes confuse Austin for game meat. Baby Billy Bob sure looks like one tough infant, doesn't he. Totally the dark counterpart to PJ from Family Circus. I would love a one-strip one-off between the two, where PJ sees the warped mirror-image of himself, and doesn't like what he sees. Crossover, crossover! Bill Keane isn't going to be around forever.
Again we deal with someone not recognizing the concept of Christ as the son of God, even from someone who lives in communities so backwater they haven't abolished hanging. Rising from the dead after three days is the greatest thing Samuel Jones has ever heard. Well, I mean, if he was the class chickenshit, then he probably hasn't seen all those horror movies where people come back from the dead like it was a trip for pizza.
So is the moral of the story is the same one you can get from reading Machiavelli's the Prince. I wonder if Jack Chick has read it. He'd probably horrified to know his thought process mirrors that of Italian, Paple State Amorality. Petunia calls Rev. Sammy a 'fraidy cat, ironically, as she's petting her own flesh and blood like a cat. But it seems off that a message of love is now getting into the fire and brimstone stuff. Sam Jones's spiritual beliefs seem to boil down to "Not in the face! Not in the face!" I mean, personally, I didn't feel people who dreaded Hell were cowards, but there was certainly something disingenuous about it.
Is Doomsday the Day of Evil? Because every Evangelical I know, which is admittedly not many, thinks the End of Days is something to look forward to, what with everyone getting to be BFF with Jesus and all the sinners getting vast into the lake of fire for their gayin' and their tatooin'. You'd think the "Day of Evil" was Richard Dawkins's birthday or something. Anyways, the normally soft-spoken Reverend Sammy Jones brings out the haradass. I mean, doesn't he completely remind you of Robert Duvall in
The Godfather right there? He has only one client, and that client is God. God's even throwing out the early warning shots with hail...which is...only three at a time. Listen, it's a full day for the Lord, he'll bring his A-Game, don't you worry.
At least have clarification. The eponymous "Mean Momma" is not so much mean as a Momma, but Momma that is otherwise mean. She seems to think her and her own are infinitely superior to those around them, and the brotherhood of man was procured solely for their enjoyment. Which is really the Good Ol' Boy ethic taking to it's logical, macroscopic conclusion. She is an oddity, in quite possibly being the only heat-packing, floral-mumu-wearing, jalopy-driving atheist below the entire Mason-Dixon line. I suppose the laws of equivalent exchange demand she exist to balance out any black Log-Cabin Republicans.Now two years have passed, and I wonder if anyone remembers that Rev. Jones was actually sent, not so much to pass on the teachings of Christ per se, but to tell all of them to stop being monsters. I bet the mayor got his ass handed to him in that election
Maybe the cops should try and do something, instead of trying to armchair critique the kid's ability to make turns. Although...what turn? They're on what looks like the open road, and the wires don't look they're bending at a ninety degree angle or anything. So yes, I suppose you can't make turns when you're headed off the road completely. The poor lad crashed into what had to be the only telephone pole in the entirety of Hazzard County. I can't blame him for not recognizing infrastructure of The Grid, seeing as the Parkers saw life as a shoe-optional affair. Especially since that is no ordinary telephone pole. It's one of those new-fangled ones, that are both flammable and indestructible.
Of course you're not the favorite, Austin. After all, you were named after the San Francisco of Texas. You could have worn a dress and joined Greenpeace for all they figured the trajectory of your life to head. He's certainly taking it like an artsy fartsy type, and he's having a good old-fashioned home-style existential crisis. Now if this is part of God's plan, did he put suicidal thoughts in Austin's head, or was it a divine gambit? Like, kill off the golden boy, and watch the pieces fall where they may. Namely, create an atmosphere where the clinically depressed kid would do his work for him? Because guys, that's straight up diabolical. It's the kind of thing the Joker would do in
The Dark Knight. In any case, this strip now receives infinite awesome points for having an illustration of a child having hung himself. I seriously don't think there's a single thing in the entirety of mainstream cinema, or some European, is that gruesome.
Man, God really spikes the football on this, doesn't he? I mean, he gives poor Billy Bob a fever, but that's not how he kills him. No, that would be merciful and relatively peaceful. That would be the actions of a God that doesn't get a hard-on from human suffering. No, the fever is simply the first act. A ruse. A diversion. Billy Bob is now at peril from a tornado, and he's going to die alone because his mom wasn't there to protect him. You kind of wonder that, while it's not a good idea to leave your kid home alone, whirlwinds can't quite be warded off in the same way you do Stranger Danger. It's not going to knock and wait for you to reply. In any case, "Billy Bob killed by Tornado" has to be the single most white trash headline ever, at least this side of scabies being involved.
Okay, so this makes three whole kills for God. That's a good 900 points for the Lord, and he's not even breaking a sweat. That is, if rain is his sweat, because I don't think he killed anybody for rain. Isn't it kind of funny that the one redeeming quality was the love for her children, and God took that away? I mean, you think he would have tried to maybe put them in a little mortal jeopardy to bargain the worship out of Petunia, but you know what? God. Does. Not. Negotiate. He will make you learn to love him. Gratitude for being a good God is for petty mortals. Salvation-deep inside the border line. Show him that you love him and that you belong together. Relax, turn around and take God's hand.
I suppose there's no shame in turning in the towel. I mean, after all, God probably had to destroy a whole neighborhood to prove something to her. All that little pussy Sammy Smith needed was to hear about a little cut and he was sold. She's not afraid anymore, which probably has a lot to do with not having anything to lose anymore. Petunia is saved! Of course, her kids aren't. The children who were simply raised in a broken home, and are merely damned because being wrongly taught by their mom, are burning in the fires of hell. But at least the mom is saved. At least God won.
No comments:
Post a Comment