Mary Worth, 8/28/12
You know, there’s nothing like leaving town and not reading the comics for a week and then coming home and reading the comics to really put into focus how little happens in the average week of, say, Mary Worth. As I left, Wilbur and Dawn where being heli-lifted to safety from their terrible cruise wreck ordeal, and in the interim … Ian angrily watched a news report about the crisis, and Wilbur and Dawn re-enacted it with hand puppetry over dinner with Mary, and that was it!
But now I have come to believe that Mary Worth was holding off on its big guns just for me, waiting until I came home to serve up this, because yes, when we talk about Mary Worth and “big guns” obviously we are talking about Wilbur making jazz hands and burbling merrily about how he is a living, breathing refutation of Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest. “Life is brutal,” Wilbur will tell those residents of the Santa Royale micropolitan area who get their news from the dying print media, “and yet I, Wilbur Weston, still breathe air and eat mayonnaise, while so many stronger and smarter and less sweaty souls drowned in terror in the balmy, calm Mediterranean waters. I stand before you as proof that there is no justice in the universe, alive through no virtue of my own. You cannot kill the ultimate mediocrity, my friends! I am unstoppable.”
Apartment 3-G, 8/28/12
Meanwhile, in Apartment 3-G, Margo the publicist has managed to land a client who literally refuses to tell her what he’s doing that she might publicize. It’s OK, though, because he’s a hot piece of ass (or at least we assume that a shapely bum lurks forever just below the bottom of the panel) who is also conceited and arrogant. What would be the fastest way to convince him that Margo would be a suitable sex partner? Would seeing her imperiously dress down a subordinate do the trick? Done and done! Added bonus: this episode also serves as part of Margo and Evan’s dom-sub play. Girlfriend is nothing if not efficient!
All right, let’s ignore Alexander’s woefully sexist views of how polyamory should work and instead focus on the real important story here — namely, the insane layout of the furniture in the Bumstead living room. I’ve commented on it before, but it’s only now occurred to me that it can be explained fairly easily as just Dagwood’s attempt to keep any of his family members from trying to interact with him while he watches TV. Usually, as we saw just yesterday, there’s a sofa turned away from Dag’s sittin’ chair, so that he can maintain the illusion of spending quality time with his loved ones without actually having to look at their stupid faces. But as we saw, even then people expect to talk to him and have him respond to their word-noises, and so now he’s gotten rid of the couch altogether, leaving Alexander nothing to sit on but the ottoman. His icy silence as his son blabs about his relationship problems says volumes.
“It’s almost as if he wanted to gather a large group of people together so that he could threaten them with violence and rob them, as he’s done in the past! Anyway, this should be quite a spectacle, I’m glad we came.”
Momma may have come down some in the world, but she certainly isn’t about to engage in any tawdry sex-for-lamp-discounts schemes.