Mary Worth, 7/7/05
I’m beginning to think we’ve all treated Rita a little harshly. I mean, sure, she’s a belligerent, foul-mouthed drunk, but she’s got good reason to be: her daughter’s dead and she’s been kicked out of her apartment and forced to beg for help from someone she barely knows.
Mary Worth, on the other hand, is crazy. I mean, if I were in Rita’s shoes and Mary suddenly pulled this swan routine on me, I’d be all like, “Damn, girl, my life is f’ed up, but you are wack. Go on with your crazy-ass swan-having self.” I like the way that Mary is framed by the inky blackness of … well, whatever it is she’s standing in front of (is that the shadow of the door?) and surrounded by a glowing aura of widowish piety. And are those porcelain swans, or plastic, or … I mean, does she play with them in the bathtub or something? I’m getting more creeped out with each passing moment.
Do you suppose Dr. Jeff’s met the swans? I think I’d like to see the strip where he does, because I’d like to see him cry.