[personal profile] writinchica2k
One of my favorite blogs as of late is enterthejabberwock.com, mostly known for its MST3K-style dissections of Chick Tracts, aka those bloody godawful "Christian comics" I'm sure everyone has seen or has handed to them at one point in their life. Lately Jabberwock's been kinda burned out on dissecting them, not that I blame him, as the stupid is enough to make one's brains dribble out their ears. Occasionally he'll put up a guest dissection with his added commentary, and this is one I mailed a while back. Obviously it doesn't have the added benefit of his commentary (he's a little more on the ball about Bible specifics than I am and I don't feel like drudging up the family tome right now), so, er, feel free to mentally play along, or something.

Basically, if I want spirituality in comics I’ll curl up with my Peanuts books. At least they’re supposed to be funny.
I mentally debated whether I should really be ripping on the artwork, since I’m not the best artist in the world myself. But then I remembered two things:
a) such thoughts are in direct violation of Ebert’s Law
b) at least I don’t make my villains stereotypically ugly with hooked noses.
So rip I shall!

Now this is just plain hideous. It’s like a glob of melting Silly Putty on a pool of licorice…or Uncle Fester if he was a coke fiend. And what’s with the bleeding bricks, are they in Castle Wolfenstein?
Yep, it’s the bull alright. The bullshit.
Yes, we really needed that box in the upper corner, as we’re apparently too stupid to decipher the backward lettering on the entrance sign. Is that made of Lucite?
And dude, what’s up with the bricks? It’s like that scratchy piece of plastic I used to make optical illusions with.
Starring in tonight’s tract, George Jetson and George Preppard.
Ha ha, right, because reforming prisoners is totally not one of the points of jail at all. Moving on.
Only 43? Pfft, must be a slow week. Even Baker looks only mildly distressed at that number.
Eeesh, waitasec, what happened to Blue Baker’s eyes? Where are his eyes?!
Hmm, I don’t know of any states where its coat of arms is a couple of mice.
Also starring in tonight’s tract, Howard Dean.
Boy, Henderson gained a lot of weight in those two weeks…particularly in his nose.
Maybe put The Bull in a nice rose garden in Spain?
So, what, prisoners don’t get transferred as a result of overcrowding? You can just do it to fuck with a warden you don’t like? I’d say that’s not very legal, but dude, politics. Nothing should surprise me.
The Governor is the proud possessor of the world’s largest sparkling pizza.
“What’s the matter, Warden?” “I’ve been- THUNDERSTRUCK!”
“Shot-caller”! Whoo, Chick’s been catching up on his Law & Order I see. Or his Oz. Either way, something with Christopher Meloni. S’alllllll good.
Wait, is The Bull being escorted in by the RCMP?
Now, see, Mr. Bull, you’re not gonna be liked if you kill someone after introducing yourself. Makes me wonder if that’s what started him on his life of crime in the first place.
“This is what happens to anyone who’s not for me!” My, that attitude sounds familiar. *coughcough*
Right, because the warden or prison committee has no say at all on when an inmate dies, depending what he did.
Maybe The Bull was an S&M practitioner once upon a time. Would certainly explain that hideous scarring.
And once again, what is up with those walls? Now they look the patterns in the painting program of one of those really old black-and-white computers…OK, now I’m dating myself.
Apparently “black as the Ace of spades” isn’t just a figure of speech for Chick.
And Jack Nicholson is wearing Cousin Itt on his head.
Ha, that’s gotta be the longest speech bubble connector ever outside of a Marvel comic…and even those make more sense (BA-DUM-CHING). And the guard in the tower isn’t even fazed by the talking bricks.
The Bull must be a direct descendant of The Gunslinger. No neck, even.
I so hope his prisoner number reads 24601. That’d be a nice background joke for the lit geeks out there.
Yeah, I’d be pretty scared shitless if I had a prisoner capable of shaking a solitary door loose, too. Or maybe he’s supposed to rattle the joint. Says so on the door, after all.
Little did he know that pamphlet was left the by the last prisoner in the hole, who actually died of boredom.
Yep, another trademark of Chick’s, meta-tracting. That plot device is hilarious enough in itself, but in a bit I’ll get to the ridiculousness of using that tract in particular (which I’m thinking may be my next project, unless someone already has dibs. It’s just asking for it).
Awww, looky-looky The Bull who’s just a big ol’ woobie on the inside, gitchie-coo…annnd I’ll cut that out before I puke up my socks.
Boy, that mouse sure gets around.
Is Blakefield modeled after Alcatraz? I swear that’s the ghost of a guard wandering the halls, still doing his duty.
“Sorry, Mr. Bull. I was busy starring in another comic.”
Pffft, that’s rich, a chaplain who doesn’t believe in the concept of hell or the Word of God. Whatev, Chick.
Um, shouldn’t that guard be making sure no one’s being slammed against the wall there? Oh right, I forgot, ghost guard. It’s just some divine intervention.
Apparently in the Chickverse, all chaplains are weak milksops who don’t truly understand the message. Um, has he ever even met a real chaplain? Oh right, I forgot, he has no human contact whatsoever.
I hate those bubble connectors. I’m sure whatever computers you’re using can fit more text into a bubble at a time, man.
And now Henderson has lost 50 pounds, gained 30 years, and looks like the bastard spawn of Richard Nixon and Brian Mulroney (AH NO THE MENTAL IMAGE GET IT OUT GET IT OUT). It’s been said before and it’ll be said again- continuity is your friend, Chick.
A riot? You’ll be wishing for a riot when you see what’s coming.
OK, remember what I said about the ridiculousness of using Somebody Loves Me as a conversion method? Here ya go. If you haven’t actually seen it (not that I’d recommend unless you have a razor nearby to slit your wrists with after, as it’s so utterly depressing), other than the usual John 3:16 at the end, there’s no other Bible passage in it whatsoever. Making Big Bad Bull spouting these lines, when given his character is unlikely he’s really heard and understood them before, utterly ludicrous. I just…I can’t even…ooh, lookit the pretty blood dripping out my nose…
Looks like Chick’s favorite witnesser Bob has fallen on hard times and is now a prison guard. Unless he only has like five or six character models to draw on.
…Wait, draw on?
Someone needs to inventing a drinking game for these tracts, every bubble connector means one drink…who am I kidding, sitting through enough would drive one to alcohol anyway.
Good Lord, did the Governor inhale a friggin’ garlic clove? Subtle as a sledgehammer, Chick.
And here the Gunslinger similarities continue, saved dude gains a couple more inches of neck.
God help you, indeed.
“And check out my new Mr. Potato Head. Ain’t he just presh?”
Somehow Nondescript Black Prisoner is more upset at the no-rape rule than anything else. (gotta love that shoehorned-in anti-gay line...NOT) Although if I (barely) remember my Old Testament, didn’t it just state against “lying with a man as with a woman”? Since men don’t have va-jay-jays…and buttsex with women wasn’t exactly mentioned…augh, I give up.
Nice to see that fundie smugness hasn’t taken away all of The Bull’s attitude.
God’s house must be like that mansion in Rose Red, building and building for all of eternity…that sounds like Hell.
Worst Johnny Cash concert EVER.
Umm, did this tract change artists halfway through?...damn, other than that, I got nothing.
I’d say this page speaks for itself, but it would have to have something to say in the first place.
The little known Eleventh Commandment? “Keep thy own religious convictions to thy own damn selves.”
At least the bricks look better.
Hah, maybe the quotation marks should’ve been around “in conference” instead. I mean, if my watching-Oz-on-the-sly-when-the-parents-weren’t-looking memory serves me right…
I’ve seen a potato chip shaped like Henderson’s profile, I swear.
I think I’d be more terrified by a talking pane of glass than the ol’ “Book of the Dead” routine.
“Scarey”? “SCAREY”? My F7 key can pick up “scarey” but Chick Co. can’t? ARGH! Spell-check must be the work of the Debbil or something.
If that replaying-your-life bit is true, I hope I’d have Mike and the Bots with me. Sure I’d be going to hell, but at least boredom wouldn’t go with me.
Ack, how DARE Chick deny us the right to make a fall-to-yo’-knees-panel joke :(
…”Thenk”. “THENK”. Excuse me. (leaves seat, walks outside, screams bloody murder, enters again and sits calmly) OK, I’m good.
“Mwuhhhhhh.” For some odd reason, I hear the Governor’s voice as The Penguin’s, and The Bull’s as Brad Garrett after too much scotch and cigarettes. Make of that what you will.
Oh God, where are everybody’s eyes and necks? And why has Henderson lost several inches in height?!
Oh, I wasn’t supposed to be laughing at this. Huh, coulda fooled me.
“Or buried in the ground? Or in a nice marble mausoleum? Or scattered over the four winds?” Kinda forgot to include those options there, man.

Overall, semi-typical claptrap. The “plot,” such as it was, didn’t change directions halfway through like in Boo! or Charlie’s Ants, but the insta-conversions are still ridiculous, the art’s still jarring, and my intelligence is still insulted. I’ve read worse, but I’ve read better…ish.
It’s fundie attitudes like this, from my experiences living in the country, that nearly make me shun spirituality altogether. I’ll settle with just being a good person and doing good deeds for the love of helping others without having to witness to others. If they don’t like that, well, they need to check their source material a little better.
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