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You know what one of the problems of working for the Man is? You can’t tell the Man, “Oh, I’m sorry, I know I said I’d be available to write a bunch of Webcast scripts on short notice, but I don’t think you understand just how wacky Mary Worth is right now.”

Stupid Man.

Anyway, without further ado, I present to you: Mary Worth’s five stages of grief.

1. Startlement

2. Weepiness

(Wait a minute, he gave them to her … on their wedding night? Ew! I mean … ew! Must … not … visualize … Mary Worth’s … wedding night…)

3. “If I can’t see it, maybe it won’t be true”

4. Rage

(John Voight is Mary Worth!)

5. Blank-eyed numbness

And of course, there’s the corollary: Rita’s five stages of keeping her drunk ass from being thrown out on the street.

1. Drunkeness

2. Drunken slack-jawed incomprehension

3. Drunken self-justification

(Whew! Thank God you’re all right. We were worried there for a minute.)

4. Drunken begging for forgiveness

5. Drunken eagerness to please

Where’s denial in all this, you may ask? Well, over in Mark Trail, we’re learning that denial ain’t just a river in the Lost Forest:

Boy, I can’t see anything going wrong in this scenario. You know, there’s an awful lot of Mark Trail-ian sins I’ll be able to forgive if this storyline ends with El Presidente here gone completely mad, foaming at the mouth and lashing out insanely with inhuman strength at anyone with the misfortune to cross his path. It’ll be just like the end of Their Eyes Were Watching God — though there won’t be any black people, this being Mark Trail and all. Actually, I suppose his lackey’s scheming wife might beat the doomed lunatic to death with an oar or something, saving everybody and clearing the way to that suburban split-level ranch for the evil couple. It would be the perfect crime! Except for all the biting.

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Mary Worth, 7/12/05

The Comics Curmudgeon (TCC) and the Future Mrs. Curmudgeon (TFMC) are taking a walk. TCC is describing today’s Mary Worth to his intended.

TCC: … and you see all these vibration lines coming off of Rita in all directions. She’s got the shakes, man! She’s definitely going to drop those damn swans. And when she does, she’ll realize what a pathetic loser she is, and then…

TFMC: She’ll slit her wrists with one of the shards?

TCC: Wow. I was going to say that she was going to check herself into the Betty Ford Clinic, but that’s … much better.

TFMC: Don’t you think “shard” is a good word?

Ain’t I lucky, folks? Not only is she willing to talk about Mary Worth on our walks, but she’s always willing to push the envelope of good taste, which is what this blog needs. Here’s to true love!

Speaking of love, I don’t love the fact that I have to go in for potential jury tomorrow (especially seeing as it’s supposed to be 87 degrees and humid and shorts are considered “inappropriate attire” for the courtroom). Hopefully my unkempt appearance and/or cranky political views will keep me from holding some poor sap’s life in my hands, but if I do have to serve, postings may be a wee bit spotty for a bit. I shall keep you all posted, since I know you all care, desperately.

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Mary Worth, 7/7/05

I’m beginning to think we’ve all treated Rita a little harshly. I mean, sure, she’s a belligerent, foul-mouthed drunk, but she’s got good reason to be: her daughter’s dead and she’s been kicked out of her apartment and forced to beg for help from someone she barely knows.

Mary Worth, on the other hand, is crazy. I mean, if I were in Rita’s shoes and Mary suddenly pulled this swan routine on me, I’d be all like, “Damn, girl, my life is f’ed up, but you are wack. Go on with your crazy-ass swan-having self.” I like the way that Mary is framed by the inky blackness of … well, whatever it is she’s standing in front of (is that the shadow of the door?) and surrounded by a glowing aura of widowish piety. And are those porcelain swans, or plastic, or … I mean, does she play with them in the bathtub or something? I’m getting more creeped out with each passing moment.

Do you suppose Dr. Jeff’s met the swans? I think I’d like to see the strip where he does, because I’d like to see him cry.