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Mary Worth, 12/6/09

Every once in a while an installment of one of the soap strips comes along that in my mind wholly justifies the lavish attention I expend upon them. Just the throwaway panel dialogue here would be enough to make this strip an instant classic; “Now on to explore new worlds … in online social networking!” should be the mission statement of some terribly misguided Web consultancy that shows businesses how to set up Twitter accounts that they don’t need. And yet this is just the opening gambit. We feel that we are right there with Wilbur as he makes his perilous roller-coaster ride of Facebook insanity. First, he clenches his stubby fingers into unaccustomed shapes as he prepares for a vigorous social-networking session. Then, upon receiving this mysterious missive, he’s so in awe of it that he reaches his fingertips half-consciously towards the screen, as if he could feel the human connections being created by intangible electrons. Next, he becomes pensive, then slips into anxiety as he contemplates the implication of this anonymous message. (“Someone” warned you about these social networks, Wilbur? I think we all know who among your acquaintances spreads fear about all things newfangled and enjoyable. It’s OK, you can name her, in the safety of your thought balloons!) Then his face brightens a little. Maybe something interesting will be crawling out of the woodwork!

But in the final panel, we tumble headlong into madness. The existence of Dawn has forced us all to acknowledge, at least to ourselves, that Wilbur has had sex at least once. But now we are confronted with the possibility of Wilbur’s wild, swinging past, and while it may enrage and disgust us, I for one plan to get over my initial hesitation and embrace the lunacy. I dearly hope we are treated to flashbacks to Wilbur’s unprotected sexcapades, possibly involving him wearing a leisure suit and having as many as a dozen hairs to comb over his bald spot.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/6/09

Well, now that Becka’s runaway oldster adventure has ended incredibly awkwardly, it looks like it’s time for Rex and June to reclaim their comic strip! It appears that their house has been trashed by squatters, which makes sense as they’ve been away for, what, a year and a half now? It would be fun drama if Rex’s beloved ward Nikki were responsible, having turned Chez Morgan into a party pad for his low-life friends (or, worse, his low-life mother), but it’s also possible that Abbey, having been left alone with no one delegated to take her on walks, was the culprit.

This strip offers further confirmation that all cab drivers in Rex Morgan, M.D., are required to wear ludicrously exaggerated ethnic headgear.

Family Circus, 12/6/09

There might be something among this world’s possibilities more horrifying than three smirking Keane Kids thrusting their no doubt filthy feet at you expectantly, but I’d be hard pressed to name it.

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Apartment 3-G, 12/4/09

As Bobbie’s finger tapped his hollow metal chest with an echoing “thump,” Alec realized that she was right. What was the point of doing this the fancy way? He was just a simple robot, built by Bobbie to hunt down and destroy her cheating husband. No more play-acting at free will; it was time to get down to business.

Family Circus, 12/4/09

There’s something incredibly repulsive to me about how vigorously Jeffy is wiping the slobber off of his face with his unitard-clad forearm. Each and every one of those adults is covered with a thick, viscous layer of Jeffy drool.

Hagar the Horrible, 12/4/09

Yes, Helga, but most people aren’t sad and desperate alcoholics!

Mark Trail, 12/4/09

Normally I do not root for the terrible death of adorable puppies, but Sassy’s continued moronic behavior is making me rethink that policy. Maybe it’s time to let natural selection take its course, you know? On the other hand, if Sassy manages to also take out the malformed Rusty-thing along with her, she will paradoxically become a true hero-dog, unworthy of death.

Marmaduke, 12/4/09

And by “odd-looking toupee” we mean “still-bleeding scalp,” obviously! Actually it’s kind of amazing how that interpretation doesn’t require a change to anybody’s facial expression or body language in this panel.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/1/09

What must it be like to be part of a couple in which both you and your spouse work in the demanding but rewarding medical field, with human lives literally in your hands, day after day? Since I’m a terrible person, I assume it mostly involves petty score-keeping. “Oh ho, Peter, it looks like you managed to kill someone — again — while I nobly went above and beyond the call of duty and found one of my missing patients just before she developed deadly pneumonia. Advantage: Becka!”

Family Circus, 12/1/09

I’m going to skip over Dolly’s chilling views on mother-daughter relationships (“I can’t believe she’s wasting her time talking to that old bag! When I grow up, I’m not even going to tell Mommy where I live!”) and focus on little Jeffy, wearin’ his best penny loafers and just stone cold maxin’ and relaxin’ in that doorway. I love the way he’s holding that book in his lap like a little table. Obviously he has some dim idea that education might be his ticket out of the Keane Kompound, but since literacy will be forever beyond his capabilities, he just grabbed a thin little brown volume (the Reader’s Digest abridged version of Leviticus, probably) from whatever shelf he could reach and carries it around the house with him, hoping it will help, somehow.

Mary Worth, 12/1/09

Mary’s expression of palpable and inappropriate relief may indicate that even a master meddler has her limits; even she doesn’t have the spiritual strength to deal with the emotional problems of a sad sack like Wilbur. “She’ll only be gone a few months, but who will wipe all this dirt off my face? I’m far too sad without her to deal with basic hygiene! Will you do it Mary? I think there are some towels over by the side of the pool.”

Dennis the Menace, 12/1/09

“An’ that’s why we’re buryin’ this snitch in a shallow grave.”