Arf-heben

Garfield and Odie engage in the dialectical death struggle, but this master-slave conflict will never resolve, never synthesize. One side is too dumb to resist or surrender. Garfield is playing Hegel's game correctly, but his opponent barely qualifies as a self-consciousness to be battled.

Garfield's behaviors are cultivated and perfected or at least self-aware. He may not be able to control his food addiction, but he frames it as an artform, a lifestyle, a moral certitude. Odie's body simply cannot be regulated. He is beyond choice, out of control, outside the boundaries of self-awareness. His tongue protrudes, eyes bulge, body spasms because he cannot help it. Odie cannot follow Garfield's rules because he cannot process them, but also through the sheer force of the rampaging lifeforce that Garfield would annihilate.

Finally, Garfield defines himself through sheer opposition to the Other, even as he tries to conscript Odie into his own behavioral patterns. Though he can name the activities that define the dog, he looks into the core of what makes a cat — his own identity — and comes up empty.

Attempting to curb Odie's behavior through orders couched in the form of a sort of game, Garfield makes two weird logistical moves and the sum comes out less than zero.

Eye of the Tabby

So outsized is Garfield's self-regard that he does not differentiate between the sort of feelings Jon has for his girlfriend and the feelings he has for his pet. Garfield may or may not be half-joking in his eyelash batting and the flirty pose he strikes, ignoring the gulf of aesthetic standards and nature of the relationships. But whether Garfield equates, conflates, confuses, ignores or blurs these separate concepts of beauty, he does so because he cannot conceive that they co-exist, that Jon could appreciate both kitty and woman in different ways. All Garfield sees is that someone else is occupying some of Jon's brainspace, usurping the center of attention, he is not being treated as special and perfect, and in his last line shifts his shame onto someone else.

Here is a case where Garfield's enormous vanity works at odds with his propensity to sloth and gluttony. Garfield does nothing whatsoever to "keep [himself] up," unless we mean that he rigorously maintains a body shape like several water balloons in a fur backpack. These contradictions run deep in Garfield, tentacles rising out of a bottomless pool of aggressive narcissism.

The third joke is that Jon's experience of this conversation is his cat making a weird face at him — possibly he even understands that the cat is flirting with him — which he thinks is "strange." And even if Garfield actually were expressing sexual feelings for his owner, the reality is far stranger than Jon knows, as Garfield seems to be using the Hare Psychopathy Checklist as a lifestyle guide and has gotten halfway through.

I Have No Trachea, Larynx or Vocal Cords and I Must Scream

Ignore, for the moment, that real fish lack not only eyelids but the vocal apparatus necessary to emit a blood-curdling cry of terror. Ignore, if you can, that it is a good thing they do, lest that sound would haunt you until the end of days, forever ruining every trip to the fish taco stand.

One of the hooks which must have initially sold United Feature Syndicate on Garfield Back in the Day, is the exciting opportunity to peek inside the psyches of our housepets. What's Kitty Thinkin'? This anthropomorphic comic exploration of how cats is just like people and people ain't so different from awful cats is pushed into realms of near-abstraction by strips in which Garfield interacts with various other pets, vermin, the occasional sentient houseplant, and even inanimate objects.

In this case, we are offered a dramatic expansion of the common sight of a cat looking at a fish. Usually these Garfields are about the cat's predatory instinct and/or sadism, muted by domesticity into meanness and bullying. This one hinges also on posturing, both from the fish and Garfield. This is not totally alien, as the sense that cats are trying very hard to look cool and aloof is often hard to avoid. The specifics of this story, though, are nearing the breaking point with any reality.

Consider, then: how does a bowled fish, fresh to the house, know Garfield by reputation? Why isn't the fish scared, since if the cat is indeed known as "tough," then it is for eating every fish brought into the house? Is Garfield "tough," or does he act tough only he knows he can win?

On the other hand, what we have is a scenario in which an tiny, defenseless creature has been placed in a vulnerable situation. He sees the natural predator that will inevitably eat him alive, and decides that if he's going out, he's going to be brave. The hunter will have none of that, and ensures his prey is going to face oblivion screaming at the top of his non-existent lungs.

Maybe none of this is what is really going on when a cat stares into a fishbowl. Or maybe that is exactly how the universe works.

Cat Scratch Fever

Title Panel: Normally a non sequitur opportunity to place Garfield and his name in unfamiliar context for no reason, today the title panel takes advantage of the forum's allowance of exaggerated artwork to create an impressionistic emblem of the character's key passions for food, sleep, and outrageous laziness. The drawing is stretched and grotesque enough that only by familiarity with Garfield iconography we even recognize what we're looking at. It is an image of comical concentration that could have run by itself as a daily strip.

Garfield: With just as much exertion of his arm muscle, could have scratched his own back. Or he could have done what other cats do, and curled up in Jon's lap for a petting. But achieving simple goals through psychological gamesmanship is a Garfield habit, and most of the time proving his manipulation skills seems to mean more than taking pleasure in the desired result. There are times in life when enjoying the journey over the destination is healthy and meditative. This is not one of them.

Jon: Jon has a great series of takes in the bottom row, in which he thinks he has Garfield's hand-signal game figured out, then for some reason starts really getting into it, and ends with an Arbuckle slow-burn... as he continues scratching Garfield's back. There are few things in human psychology more hilarious to behold than someone confidently plowing forward when we know he is clueless, and a man trudging forward through an activity he hates as he complains about doing it.

La Can aux Folles

Jon's surprise in the second panel is, for me, what elevates this slightly from a normal "pet food is gross" joke. It's also an observation about the unpleasant information revealed when reading in full any food label. Since he obviously purchased the Winged Things cat food, brought it home, and got all ready to feed Garfield before even glancing at the contents: "I bought this?"

More startling than a cat's blind desire to eat any kind of bird, regardless of how good it might taste, and the disregard for human squeamishness on the part of the pet food manufacturers, is the third panel revelation that the key ingredient is an artificial additive. Perhaps "zing" isn't the only flavor-experience Winged Things has going for it, but Garfield seems unimpressed until he hears about the sparrow-flavoring. For our purposes, this means the food company is blithely killing exotic animals and violating a minor cultural taboo against eating raptors, pretty much for no reason. Garfield can get his fill of real sparrows in the backyard any time. For Garfield, even eating his dinner today becomes less about nourishment than making Jon squirm, and unnecessary destruction of animals more beautiful than himself. Good show.

As always: would any other strip make a running gag out of reading a canned food label?

Hungry Pets 2

Every reader understands the basic gag today, and that it is accurately portrayed cat activity to get up in your face, disrupt what you're doing, and sit on your reading material when they want something. Like it or hate it, the self-centered rules of the cat world can be a funny, blunt mirror of how people treat each other. It's an especially nice touch the way they purr and try to look cute as if you should appreciate their demands for attention.

There are subtle shades to Garfield's particular brand of amalgamation of cat behavior and human behavior. Garfield, perfectly capable of getting his own food, likes being a bother. Likes it very much. Garfield's lazy desire to be waited upon, and the way he sort of exploits the situation to provide an excuse to be rude are distinctly human. While he may not look happy about what's going down, Garfield does throw the audience the loaded glance that means he's about to roll up his sleeves and get to work. I would not hazard to say that Garfield would enjoy being hungry for the mere chance to pester Jon (some priorities outweigh all other considerations), but when opportunity pops its head, the man-cat pounces.

Meanwhile, panel three provides an unfortunate reminder of Garfield's salami-thick tail.

Cat Fight

Garfield is a bully; all trickster characters who achieve special mastery over their universe (Bugs Bunny, Axel Foley, Brer Rabbit, etc.) press their intellectual advantages to some degree, and could technically be charged with emotional and mental bullying. But Garfield regularly physically assaults Jon, Odie, Nermal, spiders, mailmen and others when manipulation fails or is just too taxing for his liking. This is one of the qualities -- if not the quality -- that makes Garfield a uniquely and specifically American pop culture icon, and is the source of a lot of his power as an instrument of social criticism.

On one hand, we have the small, bitter ironies of a self-fulfilling prophecy: both the dog's sign (which in part inspires the cat to retaliate), and Garfield's threat (a cruel response to accusations of cruelty) elicit exactly the reply they were intended to avoid. The supreme comic contradiction of Garfield is his utter narcissism despite failing to manifest many positive characteristics. The masterstroke, as in Confederacy of Dunces, is to position the ill-tempered slob as the hero, by placing him in a world so screwed-up that his stubborn egoism looks like integrity. Whether that little gay dog takes the sign down or not (and who made that sign for him?), Garfield, ever a credit to his race, is going to pound the bejeezus out of him anyway.

Bad Day at Cat Rock

Garfield frequently takes pleasure, brags about, and shows off his bad behavior. Today he is amazed and held in thrall by the power of negative feelings to overwhelm and transform him. Similar to a recent gag in which Garfield finds amusement in his own boredom. To a point, Garfield always likes to wallow in negative emotions, which is why he insults those he cares about and frightens and hurts the innocent. But those are behaviors that allow him to victimize others to make himself feel powerful. There is a certain usually unspoken thrill in the feeling of giving way to damaging emotion (the comfort of feeling sorry for oneself, the adrenal rush of anger). To be sure, Garfield is feeling this in panel one. But by the end, where the cat is delighted by the physical transformation caused by grumpiness, and fascinated by his apparently unmotivated mood swings, he's degenerated into pure naval-gazing. He just finds everything he feels and does endlessly interesting, and wants to tell others about it. This is a testament to Garfield's dedicated brand of narcissism.

Panel Three: all tied up in thinking about his own mood, Garfield attempts to summon Jon from another room by "shouting" - i.e. thinking loudly at him.

Peanuts, Featuring Fat Ol' Kitty Orange

Title Panel: Why the springtimey reproductive-themed title panel when summer is ending and autumn's hand of death is soon to wrap the nation in it's chilly grip? Has Garfield's body become a flowery cursive rendition of his own name? Or is he lurking in wait hoping for some vicarious thrill as the insects go about their natural pollenation duties? The sly smile on his lips tells no lies.

Cat Covered in Packing Peanuts - 1: Garfield regularly practices the art of pantomimed physical comedy, especially on Sundays where seven panels of a cat sleeping on a table might be too much even for Gar-fans. A lot of cartoonists would have had an establishing panel of Jon calmly drinking coffee. Garfield knows it doesn't have to. Garfield has carefully established for a quarter-century that Jon is always sitting calmly at the table.

Cat Covered in Packing Peanuts - 2: Only because Garfield's anatomy is so grotesque would anyone be frightened. If a real fat kitty walked up behind you with white foam stuck all over his fur, a real person's brain would seize up and explode from seeing the cutest thing in the universe.

Behind the Lavender Door

As with last Sunday's strip, this could have been pared down to the last three panels. Unless it an added level of joke that Garfield lost a little dignity by having to struggle with the human-door. I think he gained back his dignity with the fuckin' Reed Richards arm going on in panel 6.

Burning questions:
-Jon's outfit is... what? Is he going night jogging? No, probably not, because he's wearing socks and sandals. And is he wearing an Iowa State sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off?

-Don't the hinges as portrayed in panel 7 indicate that the pet door should swing out in panel 6? Like, in other direction? For that matter, how does Jon's door lock work?

-Is the gag panel at top some kind of ominous reminder that no matter how much you think Garfield is a message just for you, inside it is a REGISTERED TRADEMARK of PAWS, Inc.? This is the only question with an answer. The answer is "yes."

Trout Fishing in A-Meow-ica

Don't worry, not every Garfield ends in cold-blooded murder. Some end with a live animal inside a character.

The last two days have featured Garfield interacting with another talking animal. On first glance, today's strip makes more sense than yesterday's joke which relied on a dog being illiterate, but a cat being able to read. Here, Garfield gives the set-up ("There's a great big world out there")... but since it's not his own punchline ("Your stomach IS fat!"), I can't figure out what he was trying to tell the fish in the first place.

Nor do I know why if Jon continues to insist on buying fish, he not only refuses to put them in aquariums of the proper size, with rocks in the bottom, but puts them on the same table where Garfield's meals are eaten.

I Love Mondays!

Panel One: Direct address much, cat who is supposedly thinking? If that's not Garfield's sign, whose is it? Someone else in the neighborhood has a nasty cat that is worse than Garfield?

Panel Two: I will buy the excuse that Garfield almost always takes place on a straight line before a blank background, because of Jon's Spartan interior decoration. But this strip must take place in an open field.

Panel Three:
a. "Intimidation by association" isn't really far enough in meaning from "guilt by association" to be a "pun" or a "parody."

b. Garfield promptly does physically threaten someone, and has a 30-year history of prior assaults. It is less intimidation by association than "intimidation by intimidation."

c. That man is only a head taller than a cat.

d. Robert Crumb cameo?

Garfield Dinner Theater

Did the colorist do this? Is the newspaper version messed up too? Somebody fouled today's on-line Sunday Garfield, probably when they did that ugly purple gradient effect in the background. Garfield and Jon are covered with little dots. Even Jim Davis' signature is illegible!

As for the strip itself... I generally like when Garfield breaks the fourth wall (it does this subtly in almost daily - see row 3, panel 1), or gets meta-strippy. Garfield is such a self-absorbed character anyway, it feels natural that it would lead to self-awareness about his reality.

I can usually tell what Jim Davis intends as the joke, and what I am inferring from having read too many Garfields, but today I'm a little stumped. I so want the joke to be that Garfield has spent so long acting like a human being that when reminded that he should act like a cat, he is totally unable to comply. Garfield tries to act like a cat and say "meow" but can't do it, feels shame, and acts with violence.

Also Arbuckle does a great slow burn today, and his frozen-handed pose in the last panel is even funnier than the food bowl smashed into his bug eyes.

The title panel gag shows Garfield picking out his costume for the madrigal dinner, finally deciding to be a jester with a big "D" on his hat. The gag makes no sense, but then they usually do not. Besides, according to some Pez dispensers I have, Garfield most likes to wear a baseball cap or aviator goggles.