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Apartment 3-G, 8/10/12

You know, in most forms of narrative, when a small but out-of-the ordinary event happens — like, say, a job applicant failing to include a reference’s phone number on his resume, but happening to have it on a business card — you sort of file it away in the back of your mind as potentially significant. But since this is a soap opera comic strip, it’s probably a safe assumption that the entire pointless action in today’s installment only exists to kill time and means nothing and will never be mentioned again. Which, frankly, is a good thing, because I have a hard time imagining a plot so boring that it hinges on The Mysterious Episode Of The Phone Number That Wasn’t On The Resume But Was Easily Provided Separately.

Funky Winkerbean, 8/10/12

Hey, everyone, Wally Winkerbean is working through his PTSD with the help of an adorable therapy dog, and is involved in a healthy romantic relationship! Don’t worry, though, he’s still perpetually haunted by the grim spectre of death.

Pluggers, 8/10/12

Pluggers urge their sports heroes to viciously injure their opponents in career-ending and crippling ways.

Ziggy, 8/10/12

I’m not sure if I’d trust a doctor who reads off of continuous feed paper printed out of his dot matrix printer, and who has a certificate hanging on his wall that just says “Doctor” on it. But then, I guess Ziggy can’t really afford decent medical care, what with his explicitly acknowledged poverty and all.

Mary Worth, 8/10/12

“I mean, can you believe it? Everyone fucking hates that song! The boat probably committed suicide out of shame.”

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 8/6/12

Since much of electoral politics consists of convincing large groups of people that all their problems are caused by small groups of people, it was only a matter of time before attack ads started singling out individual private citizens by name. Picking on Snuffy Smith and his friends is a smart move, actually, as it won’t lose anybody a single vote; due to a misunderstanding of the phrase “no taxation without representation,” Hootin’ Holler refuses to allow the Elections Board to set up polling places in the community, because they believe that in so doing they’re also keeping out the revenooers.

Momma, 8/6/12

God help me, but I love Francis’s sly look in panel three. “Hmm, I hadn’t considered that, actually! You know, for all her bluster, Momma does have some sound business sense. Gosh, I love lollipops!”

Apartment 3-G, 8/6/12

If by “tall,” you mean “the exact same height as Margo, who has never been depicted as particularly tall,” and by “shy,” you mean “openly discussing his emotional state with a total stranger within seconds of meeting her,” but otherwise, sure, whatever, narration box.

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Apartment 3-G, 8/3/12

God, you guys, so long ago (so long ago I’m not even going to bother digging up the links) Margo had this boyfriend (or at least a dude she was making out with) named Trey who was an architect and who somehow got permission from his bosses to completely rebuild the Mills Gallery (which, let’s not forget, Margo owns or at least manages or something, because she inherited it from her previous boyfriend, who died in Tibet, for real) in his vision of a neo-Art Deco style, free of charge, because … because it’s an arts nonprofit, I guess? And Trey was making out with its owner/manager? Sure, those seem like good reasons to do a lot of pricey professional work pro bono.

Anyway, I bring this up not just because I want to show off (for certain very limited definitions of “show off”) my knowledge of apparently jettisoned A3G backstory, but because Margo’s vague references to the office being “picture perfect” at least sort of admits that said backstory at one point existed. Trey is nowhere to be seen, and the vague background decor looks nothing like whatever neo-Art Deco might be, but there does appear to be a picture hanging on the wall, which may be what she’s referring to. Maybe Trey got his budget for the job cut until all he could afford to do was hang a new painting on the wall of Margo’s office, and then he had to cease to exist, to save money.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/3/12

Oh, were you worried that Rex Morgan wasn’t going to get his cut? Don’t worry, Rex Morgan always gets his cut.