Archive: Mary Worth

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Mary Worth, 3/8/10

When I was a kid, some Buffalo Bills star or other had been suspended for failing a drug test, and I remember having a conversation with my father (who was then the director of an alcoholism clinic) about why someone would endanger their very lucrative career for an occasional high. He explained, in a formulation that has always stuck with me, the addict’s trajectory: first using drugs makes you feel good, then you need drugs to feel good, then you need drugs to not feel bad.

This statement really jumped into my mind today when watching the suddenly diminished Clan Weston hash out the aftermath of Kurt’s duplicity over yet another sandwich-based meal. These white-bread-and-baloney-and-mayonnaise sandwiches ought to be a comfort to Wilbur and Dawn in these trying days; but Wilbur is just shoving his in the general direction of his mouth without even giving it a glance, let alone pausing to savor the subtle interplay of flavors. He’s like a junkie in some abandoned rowhouse, shooting up because of his raw need and long ago forgetting the transcendent high that got him hooked in the first place, and his sandwich requirements have just become a semi-conscious undercurrent in his life now. He probably doesn’t even realize that he’s got a second sandwich all queued up on this dinner plate ready to go once the current one has been devoured. Did he even bother to put condiments on that one?

The really sad part of this scene is Dawn, who’s only of college age, and yet seems equally blasé about sandwich use. She appears to be using her sandwich as a prop for gesticulation, just waving it around for a bit until she’s ready to cram it down her gullet with as little chewing as possible. She learned it from watching you, Dad. She learned it from watching you.

Family Circus, 3/8/10

Many victims of repeated trauma eventually form a sort of bond with their oppressors; in hostage situations, this is called Stockholm Syndrome. Thus, after repeated exposure to Jeffy’s naked ass, I seem to have become inured to disgust and indeed experienced brief amusement at today’s Family Circus panel. Most experts agree that a swift and merciful death would be for the best.

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Your COTW momentarily, but first, an absolutely delightful bit of Worthiana from faithful reader John Small Berries! He writes:

While cleaning out my office, I ran across the attached panel of Ian Cameron trying to relax at home. I’m not sure when it was originally published, but it’s at least several years old (my wife snagged a photocopy from the clipping on her mother’s refrigerator back in the first half of the last decade; no idea how long it had been hanging there). I thought you, and perhaps the rest of the Comics Curmudgeon readers, might be at least mildly amused by this bygone glimpse of life in Casa Chinbeard.

One of the interesting things about the soap opera strips is that there are literally thousands of them out there, but they’re almost entirely uncollected and thus inaccessible to any but the most patient soul willing to whirl through the microfilm at their local library. Who knows what awesome Aldo-level storylines delighted Mary Worth readers in the ’70s or ’80s, only to vanish in the mists of time? All we have is are brief, contextless glimpses like this. We can tell, for instance, that sometime in the 1990s or thereabouts Professor Cameron liked to “adjust” his “attitude” by sitting in front of the TV with a bowl of potato chips, a sizable amount of ranch dressing, and three tall glasses of scotch, and that in the middle of one such episode, he was interrupted by a rude buzzing, possibly a result of someone pressing a marital aid against his condo unit’s door. Beyond that, we know nothing.

Anyway, on to your COMMENT OF THE WEEK!

“Yeah, right now Wilbur, like a small child on Christmas morning, is infatuated with Kurt, but in about a week it’ll all be sandwich, sandwich, sandwich.” –Baka Gaijin

And your runners up! Very AMUSING.

“I was just down at the medical center, and I picked up this donated organ no-one wanted! Now let me pour out some clear serum for a refreshing drink!” –nomuse

“A trip through Devil’s Pass sounded interesting, so naturally it wasn’t. MT has a strange gift that seems to require a new word. I choose ‘borifying.'” –Poteet

“When he talks to his wife, Mark Trail has a vacant expression of joy that is the hallmark of a man whose marriage is built on a foundation of pharmaceuticals and denial.” –NoahSnark

“Thank goodness for Apartment 3-G, where Mr. Margo’s Dad remains under the adorable delusion that his daughter can love.” –Black Drazon

They use to tell me I was so green … that my head looked like even more like an avocado.” –Red Greenback

“I love how that conversation ends. Cherry saying ‘I love you’ and that’s it. Mark had probably already hung up. Or better, he slammed the phone down as soon as he heard Cherry’s tongue curl.” –Roto13

“It does look like even the pigeons are just sort of ‘Yeah, whatever, buddy, just keep the birdseed coming.'” –Baron Bizarre

“‘Kurt agreed to the paternity test? Will he confess that he knew the results all along?’ I can just imagine how that conversation will go. Wilbur: ‘Well, it cost us $2,000, but now we know that I’m not your father.’ Kurt: ‘Yes. I knew all along. I’ve been intentionally manipulating you.’ Wilbur: ‘This won’t change our relationship at all.'” –AndyL

“Peter should just go to a costume store if he needs his silly pajamas to fight crime and rent one. Then he can spend three weeks’ worth of panels worrying about WHAT IF the clerk SUSPECTS that he might be THE REAL SPIDER-MAN and isn’t that a suspicious request for a CREDIT CARD that has his REAL-LIFE NAME AS PETER PARKER on it, that somebody might use to trace his SECRET IDENTITY? Meanwhile the actual clerk finds Peter to be a dull, slightly fidgety guy who’ll get the speediest possible service because he’s acting kind of creepy so let’s take his money and get him out of here.” –Chip Whittle

“How bad is Dawn’s tea? Apparently Mary has to use both hands just to force it down her own throat.” –Digger

“Good Lord. It’s like they wrote ‘3 P.M.: Frolic’ in their day planners.” –commodorejohn

“I’m a little insulted by the snarky ridicule directed towards Wilbur and Kurt, to be honest. Sounds like someone didn’t get enough con-artist/fake-father bonding time growing up” –Krazy Kat

“There is nothing more alluring to high school girls than helping the school janitor clean up the gym after a game. Maybe he will let you sniff the used towels.” –Rusty

Dithers’ heel isn’t on Dagwood’s throat; it’s on his bowtie, the source of his power.” –Jonn

“Yes, Beetle, it is always a mistake to embark on a journey into the strange, crisp world of uniform cosplay.” –skullcrusherjones

“But check out that look on Mr. Kessler’s face; he’s staring directly at the comic strip audience with a knowing look in his eyes, as if to say ‘You and I, my friends, we know better, don’t we? We know that just last night I was entertaining a couple of nubile young coeds and then things got a little, shall we say, Freak-Ay! You can find more details at http://www.kinkymisterkessler.com. All major credit cards accepted.'” –Jeff Soesbe (yeff)

“Kurt’s gone! And he made his bed first! THE BASTARD!!!” –BowToTheBard

“Mr. Wilbur Weston really ought to be arrested for felonious lack of self-respect. Is there any doubt what caused young Mr. Evans to slink away in the middle of the night? One is not surprised that he would prefer the precarious life of a ne’er-do-well to having such a sad case as a role model. He certainly could see the impact on his putative half-sister. Miss Weston has no friends, no life, and apparently no ambition beyond being elected princess at the Santa Royale eggplant festival.” –Fashion Police

It’s Kurt. He’s gone! But for some reason you’re still here, Dawn.” –Judas Peckerwood

“Ah … Major Kessler of the SS. The Mossad lost you in Argentina. Milford … in a clown suit … pure evil genius! Check and mate, sir!” –Sans Sense

“I get a strong impression that the MW artist really enjoyed drafting class and would be much happier if he were allowed to draw Wilbur, Dawn, and the rest of the crew as nice, pleasing, regular cuboids in a cabinet oblique projection. Cross-hatching could be employed as an indicator of strong emotion, when required. The white shorts today are a clear sign of a bitter, frustrated man lashing out the only way he knows how.” –One-eyed Wolfdog

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Beetle Bailey, 3/1/10

I swear I’m not making an effort to find the secret dark heart of Beetle Bailey lately; but doesn’t it just seem like the strip has just been getting kind of grim? Today’s installment appears to have been first written as an almost unspeakably bleak scenario: Beetle being dragged off by scowling MPs for treason or some terrible breach of the military law, to Fort Leavenworth or Gitmo or just a summary execution by firing squad. He weakly proclaims that it was all a mistake, he didn’t do anything, but the fact that he’s, against the grain of his usual character, put on a vaguely presentable uniform indicates that he knew the gig was up and decided to go out with a modicum of dignity. Sarge, meanwhile, can only look on in heartbroken shock. “Beetle!” he cries. “What have you done?! For the love of God, what have you done?!

Presumably the editor for this strip, after putting his or her head down on the desk and crying quietly for a bit, sent it back to Walker-Browne Amalgamated Humor Enterprises LLC with a scrawled note to “wacky it up a little bit, with, I dunno, some Keystone Cops or 19th century U.S. Cavalry officers or some shit like that.” Then back to the weeping.

Gil Thorp, 3/1/10

Dang, Gil Thorp, I know you’re written by jocks for jocks, but can you tone it down a little bit with the anti-nerd hate speech? You know, Coach Kaz, maybe Mr. Kessler doesn’t have the “jailbait problems” you’ve encountered because he’s an urbane, witty gentleman who exudes class and intelligence, and therefore doesn’t attract the high school girls the way your mullet does.

Mary Worth, 3/1/10

“…and he took the bottom two-thirds of my pants with him! My God, my pale, tender leg-flesh … gleaming in the bright light of day … DON’T LOOK! DON’T LOOK!”