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Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/9/14

Oh hey, remember how Sarah Morgan, who is a child, got a lucrative book deal from a museum for her horsey drawings, but it came so easily to her that she was wracked with self-doubt? Well, just because she may be undergoing some internal self-reassessment doesn’t mean that it’s okay for the people paying her money for a book to assign her an God-damned professional editor to supervise the process just like they would for literally any other writer they publish, including adults who have already written multiple books. Just look at her face in that last panel! You’re dealing with Sarah Morgan, motherfuckers, and her lawyer is going to make sure you regret everything about this decision.

Beetle Bailey, 2/9/14

Speaking of regrets, I sure regret reading this comic, because now I can’t stop thinking about Otto the dog suddenly growing to full human size and asserting his right to bring lady dogs to the barracks, for sex.

Hi and Lois, 2/9/14

Ha ha, an adorable child in a comic is talking about “promoting my brand,” time to break all the computers and move to an island far away!

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Mark Trail, 1/10/14

You guys. You guys. This is amazing. Before he was defeated in combat by Mark Trail, Jeff buried the precious Indian artifacts he stole outside the cabin, and is now refusing to tell Mark where they’re hidden. They’ll be lost forever, right? Oh, but wait. Remember this completely delightful panel from last month?

Well, guess what: by dropping that jar of homemade syrup into the artifact-basket, Jared inadvertently made this stolen haul irresistible to bears. This is one of the greatest delayed payoffs in Mark Trail history. Soon the artifacts will be back in their rightful place, in the museum Mr. Dunlap intended to donate them to, and only slightly worse for wear for being covered in rancid syrup and torn to bits by the claws of a hungry bear.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/10/14

I have been remiss in pointing out that 2014 has brought a new artist to Rex Morgan, M.D. Graham Nolan, who is getting a nice tribute in cereal form here, has handed duties off to Terry Beatty, who succeeded Nolan on the Sunday Phantom a while ago. Check out Beatty’s blog for more on his process — it’s pretty interesting!

The new artist is using his own style without really changing any of the character designs that much. I’m glad, for instance, that Sarah remains weird little gnome-person. I’m pretty in love with her facial expression in panel three here, as it seems appropriate for someone who really wanted to rat out her baby-sitter but eventually agreed not to in exchange for a cookie bribe, but now her mother’s asking her a direct question and you can’t lie to your mother, can you? So she’ll just have to tell on Kelly, even though she already ate the cookies! It’s like Christmas never ended!

Apartment 3-G, 1/10/14

Three cheers for Apartment 3-G for remembering Lu Ann’s tragic artist/drug addict/drug dealer boyfriend Alan, who got shot and killed, over drugs. You may wish to peruse my archive to catch up on the Alan plotline in all its glory, but at minimum you should Never Forget the following high points: Jones the beatnik drug dealer, “Wow. This dope is super — I feel great!”, “This better work. I just spent most of my paycheck on drugs!”, “And, face it, getting high is all I care about”, and “I’ll calm down when I get some drugs!! Please! I hurt so bad!!”.

Mary Worth, 1/10/14

“Still, Santa Royale is such a stuffy, hidebound place. It’s the sort of town where people frown on you just because you use an area rug as a napkin! New York is so liberating, where I can be exactly who I want to be, with no limits!”

Heathcliff, 1/10/14

Meanwhile, Heathcliff’s demands to be worshiped as a terrible God-King continue unabated.

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Slylock Fox, 1/6/13

I demand that you join me in loving everything about this hallucinatory anthropomorphic animal lunar exploration fever dream. What’s wrong with this moon scene? Is it the lack of space suits and the clouds and the moon rising in the moon’s own sky? Is it that Slylock is wearing a space-helmet of some sort, but Max’s head is exposed to lunar vacuum? Is it that Sly and Max both have hugely dilated pupils and big grins? Is it that they’re lying on the grimy floor of some opium den somewhere, enjoying this doped flight of fancy, rather than solving crimes like they’re supposed to be?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/6/13

“Most people don’t mind at all if their teenage babysitters make their earliest fumbling steps into sexual adulthood on their couches these days, June. In fact, some people practically encourage it! Don’t be such a prude! You don’t want to be known as the prude-mom, do you? Ugh, I can’t believe I married a prude.”