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Hey, gang, remember Margo’s vaguely ethnic comical-but-lovable fortune-tellin’ birth mother Gabriella? “Vaya, el espiritu malo!” Gabriella? “Gracias, Santa Maria!” Gabriella? I mean this Gabriella:

Well if you do, I’ve got sad news:

Apartment 3-G, 2/20/13

Yes, the passage of time and renewed romantic attentions of Martin Magee have bleached, rectified, and WASPicated our favorite Roma/Filipina/Chicana firecracker, to the point where things like “Bless you, Mr. Cooper” actually come out of her mouth.

Now I understand that as we approach the End Times, there needs to be a certain amount of convergence among God’s creatures in preparation for our ultimate unification with the One. Heck, the guys in Apartment 3-G have been interchangeable for years! So it’s not that I’m against the End of the World as a concept, or even as a near-term possibility. I’m just not ready for the Omega Point to look quite so much like Mary Worth.

Phantom, 2/20/13

In the fifth month of the daily Phantom game Who’s Got the Lioness?, Evil Miner Logician rudely dismisses his colleague’s naïve “argument from absence of evidence” without considering alternatives:

1. Surely 500 years of the “Man-Who-Cannot-Die” legend provides some evidence of absence, no?
2. Alternative hypothesis: the Phantom may be a vampire or zombie, and therefore dead already. Vampires and zombies are very popular right now — he should at least consider it!
3. All right, a single null result is inconclusive. So why not add more trials and widen the scope a bit: try hanging, burning, shooting, drowning, poisoning, or simply boring him to death. God knows it’s working on us.

Marvin, 2/20/13

For the past several days Marvin’s been having a late-night chat with “his worst nightmare” on the right here. Today we learn that “Marvin nightmare” = “Marvin bowel movement”, i.e., the visitor is in fact Marvin’s own poo come to terrifying life. This being Marvin, such a development was of course inevitable. But we should still be grateful that Disney’s ironclad trademark control over the name “Poo” keeps the newcomer from having his own spinoff strip.

And speaking of poo:

Mary Worth, 2/20/13

John Dill has finally digested his prizewinning cake.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Pluggers, 2/19/13

Flea track and field.

Better Half, 2/19/13

Hey, Stanley — send that app on over to the folks at 9 Chickweed Lane, wouldya? Save ’em some typing.

9 Chickweed Lane, 2/19/13

Thanks, Stan. I’m sure they appreciate it — just look at those big smiles!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/19/13

Oh, poo. Looks like Our Honey isn’t challenging any normative gender constructs after all; she’s once, twice, three times a — well, I guess lady isn’t quite right either. Anyway, she made quite an impression on Rex there: look at him covering the smoking socket of the eye that was exposed to her naked ladyparts, or maybe he’s trying to pluck it out per Matthew 18:9? Either way, if that image could be pasted over the first panel of every comic ever, this blog wouldn’t need to do much else:

Funky Winkerbean, Mary Worth, Judge Parker, Crankshaft, 2/19/13 (panels, modified)

UPDATE — Hey, check out Faithful Reader Druj Nasu’s Automatic Rexifier, which Rexifies many, many more strips, and Faithful Reader Nehemiah Scudder’s Rex Agony Blank, which lets you play along at home. Thank you, Faithful Readers!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Apartment 3-G, 2/18/13

Margo wakes up from her asphyxiation coma and just naturally assumes Tommie has dragged her home from yet another blackout bender.

Gasoline Alley, 2/18/13

Rufus needs to arrange a sham marriage in a hurry to secure his inheritance under the terms of a really terribly drafted will, but he can’t find a human volunteer because rich or poor, he’s still Rufus. Still, none of that excuses Joel pimping out his mule. And Becky’s enthusiasm for the arrangement is starting to creep me out.

Momma, 2/18/13

As Gertrude Stein once said of Oakland, “There is no there there.” At least not nearly enough for a vaccination scar.

Gil Thorp, 2/18/13

Oh imagine that, the peacock wasn’t really the magical score-enhancing reincarnation of his tragically dead brother after all, just the wayward pet of some amiable neighbor-doofus. But Scott will say anything to deny the plain truth: “Um, … do you mean today? The sun was in my eyes! Bitch set me up! What was that noise? She said she was 18! My dog ate it! Greedo shot first! I took a wide stance! It’s not you, it’s me! I thought they were tomato plants! I never got your message! She’s just a friend! I was drunk! The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat! How could I have known it was loaded? I swear nothing like this ever happened to me before! The heart wants what it wants! I didn’t see the sign! I was dead at the time — on the Moon, with Steve! Everybody does it! Wait, I was just holding it for somebody! Ida Know! NOT ME!”

— Uncle Lumpy