Archive: Mary Worth

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Funky Winkerbean, 10/16/17

Ah, it’s Monday, and what new gloom is settling on the Funkyverse? Well, somebody in a generic office building has been working to track down Darrin Fairgood, somebody with a flat-top haircut and dour demeanor that implies law enforcement of some sort. Or maybe this is tied into the plotline about Darrin’s stalker-y bio-dad that never seemed to come to anything? Anyway, I love that these guys are acting like they just cracked a major cold case by looking up a guy’s IMDB page, as I’m sure it presages hilarity ahead!

Mary Worth, 10/16/17

The problem: Wilbur so hates and fears his own body that he’s unable to even dance properly. The solution: radical exposure therapy, implemented by taking him to the beach, putting him in a speedo, and showing him that nothing bad will happen as he and his beloved frolic together in the ocean for all the world to see. And it’s working! Look at the grin! Feel that joy! His glasses are about to get knocked off his face by the next big wave, but even that won’t be able to kill his mood!

Meanwhile, back in Santa Royale, Mary is sitting in the dark, to make sure she doesn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of her foul, sinful flesh.

Marvin, 10/16/17

Hey, just a reminder that Marvin’s house is wholly permeated by the smell of feces, to the extent that the family dog feels morally superior because he goes out in the yard to take a dump!

Dennis the Menace, 10/16/17

A good way to make us all feel really menaced is to remind us that we’re three or so generations into a long-running experiment to see what happens in a society where most people start getting antsy any time they’re not looking at a screen of some sort, and that experiment is not going well.

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Mary Worth, 10/15/17

Today’s Mary Worth is mostly a hilarious rehash of a hilarious week for the Sunday crowd, but there is one new bit of information: in the first panel in the third row, Wilbur reveals that he’s so anxious and anhedonic that he needs to be intoxicated just to experience the basic levels of enjoyment that most humans normally feel when listening to music. See, we’ve all been marveling at the improbable pairing of Wilbur and Fabiana, but unlike all of you shallow people, she’s managed to look past his dweebish exterior to really understand and appreciate his thoroughly unappealing personality.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/15/17

Not so fast, kid: the real monster here is the masses’ ignorance of the finer points of 1950s horror comics artistry, a shameful deficit in our education system that allows online forgers to flourish. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?

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Judge Parker, 10/12/17

Let’s check in to see what’s up in Judge Parker, and … oh, whoops, everyone’s miserable. All their wives are in prison, or just straight up leaving them because they were a big secret-keeper about secret grandchildren and such. How strange and awful it must be for these characters, so coddled under the Woody Wilson regime, handed checks and approbation at every turn, to endure the suffering being dished out by their new Dark Lord and Master, Ces Marciuliano, which will presumably continue until the cosmic scales of karma are realigned! Look at Judge Parker Senior frowning! Did he even know what a frown was, before? Did his cheek-flesh crack as it entered a configuration entirely new to it?

Gil Thorp, 10/12/17

OK, fine, the Gil Thorp creative team really can name a specific Ed Sheeran song. Anyway, why is Rick Soto so grimly determined to resist his destiny as a teen musical sensation? Is it because of his heavy investment in violent American-style masculinity? Does he think that bashing his brain into putty makes him more of a man than being a crooner does, despite the clear evidence that belting out tunes gets all the young ladies hot and bothered?

Mary Worth, 10/12/17

I’ve been writing this blog for more than 13 years now. Some of you have been with me almost that whole time; but some of you have only recently stumbled upon this site, and you may still be wondering “what’s this thing all about, man?” Well, let me tell you: if the sight of an exasperated Colombian shouting “Señor Wilbur, you have to move too!” at Wilbur as he stands absolutely still while leaning on his prancing, jiggling girlfriend floods your brain with the kind of dopamine rush most people associate with the deepest kind of love, or maybe cocaine, then you and I are on the same wavelength, my friend.