Unfancy Feast

The longer they stand around talking about this, the more burned the casserole will become. When Jon sprays water on it, it's going to be wet and burned. The boys are still excited to eat this horrible meal. Garfield and Jon are bachelors, but what does that mean? Here they demonstrate belief that the freedoms associated with bachelorhood should be relished, even those that are gross, pitiful, and, in the case of the burnt, soggy casserole, not even pleasurable unto themselves. No one wants to eat this mess because it will taste good, but because there is no one to stop them. That is not charred StarKist you're tasting, it is freedom.

This strip also suggests that perhaps the most vital function of a mate is to prevent us from acting like disgusting animals. And so it is that the thing separating us from the beasts is that human beings are trying to impress someone.

Cat's Donut Dance

Panel 1: Damn it, Jon, seriously, you left a plate of donuts out on the table unguarded? You expect to be eating any donuts today? Though he is not in it, this panel tells us more about Jon than Garfield; about his bottomless capacity for trust, and refusal to admit how his friend treats him. Fall guys are funniest when they set up their own fall.

Panel 2: Well. At least Jon was only expecting "a donut" out of an entire plate of sinkers. When a man's dreams are so small... it just makes them easier to crush.

I haven't anything insightful to add about it, but Garfield standing with hands on hips and expression of satisfaction at a mouthful of fried dough gave me a laughing cramp.

Panel 3: The giant cat tongue is a good sight gag, offering saliva-drenched food a good gross-out gag, and the conciliatory gesture Garfield knows Jon would never accept a sharp character note about remorselessness and insincerity. Note also: It is impossible to know how much time elapses between Panels 1 and 2, which is the secret power of the punchline. In Panel 2 it looks for all the world like Garfield is chewing the donuts. Surprise! This begs another question. If all six donuts visible on the plate are accounted for on his tongue, plus another presumably buried in the stack, plus another now mushed into his cheeks, where in his anatomy was Garfield concealing the 8+ donuts? And where might we get a donut with pale blue frosting?

Verdict: Garfield donut jokes are hilarious.

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?

The Cat and the Cannery

Panel 1: Between the snooty expression and extended pinky, Jon's body language while reading food labels to Garfield is one of a man trying to placate his friend's unhappiness with reality by gussying up the ugly truth. This is even funnier because the circumstance is his cat's dislike of gross canned food.

Also: is Jon reading from an unopened can? It is not outside the realm of possibility that there's a second can of the same food, but why confuse the issue?

Panel 2: That's a "pie"?

Panel 3: Garfield's sudden enthusiasm for the meal has nothing to do with how good vulture may taste, but in a scavenger becoming the scavenged. Garfield is motivated by A) the sense of satisfaction and purpose we derive from seeing karmic justice dispensed, and B) the sense of power derived from participating in the same. There's an uneasy tinge of sadism in the scenario for those in the witness stand, but stranger still is our hero's personal vindication. What have vultures ever done to Garfield? Picked over his corpse and disgorged strips of his fatty orange flesh into the open mouths of their young? Certainly not. Perhaps it is the pride of a hunter, in this case the domestic cat, who resents the parasitic air that scavengers have been shouldered with in human anthropomorphic thinking. I doubt it, since Garfield does not look down on thievery, underhandedness or laziness. Instead, he just enjoys exerting power over a creature that has been weakened, sapped of challenge and ground into a brown paste. Garfield is a bully, even when taking unmotivated revenge on a bowl of reeking canned sludge.

L'Ârge d'order of Pizza

Garfield's "NO FEAR!" cheer, a proclamation of true grit normally applied to sporting contests and dangerous living, is incongruously applied to two guys who are going to eat as much gross pizza as possible. In the joke-logic world, the pizza toppings are so disgusting, or will render Garfield and Jon so smelly, that they actually will be a danger, and arguably gorging yourself on melted cheese is not the safest of dietary choices. This isn't actually far removed from normal Guy Behavior, where eating and drinking contests, and feats of consumption fuel good times and liver problems alike, all the time.

The slight difference is that Jon and Garfield, for no reason besides sheer contrarian mischief, decide to go for broke with their antisocial behavior. What else is there to do when your personal habits and desires — be it nasty pizza toppings, bad music, cigarettes, weird haircut — are being attacked? Even if social standards require only the smallest of personal compromise? Even if the reasons to cooperate are for entirely logical, understandable reasons? Garfield advises not only to let one's freak flag fly, but to crank up Here Comes Garfield and blow smoke in the face of oppression. Of course, this only applies when personal appetite is at stake. This is less War on Freedom than "Don't Crowd Me".

Show me the ultimate end-product of American individualism, and I'll show you a cat with garlic breath.