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Ralphie & Jeanie


Ralphie & Jeanie Ralphie & Jeanie Ralphie & Jeanie Ralphie & Jeanie Ralphie & Jeanie

Ralphie & Jeanie back

Alabaster Pizzo

Price: 
10.00

Page 45 Review by Stephen

Job interviews:

These are serious, potential life-altering affairs which should be conducted with the utmost decorum.

A little levity, when judiciously targeted, may well prove endearing to your prospective employer, for engagement and individuality as well as a quick wit and a sprightly demeanour are treasured by some as qualities conducive to a cooperative and constructive relationship between co-workers. It pays to be positive, you know.

You should arrive well prepped, but also fresh as a daisy.

Jeannie's sure had a bath, but the bath was in beer which here boyf had left brewing. She thought it was a thoughtful, aromatic offering to calm her nerves.

"I really have the best boyfriend ever. <3"

It was certainly aromatic, and now so is she. Also "relaxed", by which I mean drunk as a skunk.

"Uh, Eugenia Barboncino?"
"HEEEERRE'S JEANNIE!!!!!"

That panel features some truly tasty cartooning, our Jeanie thrusting herself effervescently, horizontally through the office doorway, wild-eyed, mouth wide and arms akimbo, addressing her imaginary, adulatory TV audience; emphatically not her startled potential employer.

But making an entrance that impresses is not without merits, so let's see what transpires.

"Ms. Barboncino, why do you think you're qualified for this position?"
"Please, call me Jeanie," she proffers generously, waving her hand to dismiss the formality. ""Ms. Barboncino" is my father."

There follows the loudest and most profoundly moving Oscar-acceptance speech of all time, before Jeannie THUNKs her head down on his desk.

"Ms. Barboncino, are you drunk?"
"Drunk with desire for this job!!!"

He picks up the phone. "Security?"

From the co-creator of HELLBOUND LIFESTYLE, a former Page 45 Comicbook Of The Month, comes an ill-advisedly A4 floppy of blindingly bright, exuberant, anthropomorphic ordeals which had me howling with laughter. Is it so very puerile of me to find hilarious a po-faced art-gallery owner answering the phone with "Hello, Pooperdink & Plop?"

It probably is. I might try that at Page 45.

Note that the love-struck couple call each other Ralphie and Jeanie, not Ralph and Jean, affectionate nicknames of adoration which also denote a certain absence of level-headed maturity. They are clueless and completely impractical, not rising but falling to every occasion. Although Ralphie may surprise you - and Jeanie too - when it comes to his empathy and instinct in controlling some lively kids in a crèche.

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," says the day care centre's supervisor, smiling but so drained by the drought of support in her job that her hair is a crinkled, crumpled, frazzled mess and the bags under her eyes are bruised blue. "The other counsellors keep changing their phone numbers or abruptly leaving the country."

Also on offer: a free day at the beach requiring massive, burdensome and accumulatively expensive accoutrements hauled over half a dozen subway stops; tax returns (you send them in; you don't actually get anything in return except a bloody big bill), a wedding invitation, DIY (see: ill-advised), alien abduction (possibly) and unearthing a time capsule buried together during college, containing arcane objects whose function's forgotten.

"Wow, so many CDs.
"Do you remember what we did with these?"

It's simply masterful.

I love that their love falters for not one second and cannot emphasise in strong enough terms how infectiously endearing and keenly observed the cartooning is. Ralphie is perpetually stoned and therefore tired-eyed, dazed and lank, while take-charge Jeannie is such an expressive creation, ebullient and exclamatory, with a self-congratulatory pride evidenced in her chin lifted and eyes angelically shut when she buys into urban, small-hold farming by growing veggies on their terraced city rooftop.

"But what's wrong with letting the grocery store grow the food as always?" ask Ralphie.

Jeanie's face is a picture of pure, lip-sealed, Dame Edna Everage wobbling-eyed exasperation before bursting into visually star-struck dreams:

"Cause if we become farmers we can quit our jobs and live off the grid!!"

Live off the grid! Jeannie gleaned the idea from Woke Magazine which, much to my surprise, does actually exist. I thought it was satire.

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