Archive: Rex Morgan, M.D.

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Funky Winkerbean, 8/18/12

Hey, Comic John — that was you whining to Funky about your sex life Monday, right? So maybe you could find some way to comfort your wife and assure her that in your eyes she’s no three-year-old, but a desirable, capable, undeniably adult woman? Perhaps some kind of cooperative adult activity, suitable for the place and time, that would help restore her confidence and could actually work out pretty well for you, too?

No? You’re going with the cheap putdown instead? OK, then — on with the glasses and down the hall: that copy of Power Girl #18 ain’t gonna stain itself, you know!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/18/12

This would be just another episode of “Rex exploits rich old ladies for stuff”, but for two things. First, this old lady is Melissa Claridge, for fifty years a straitlaced hypochondriac who berated Rex for his indifferent courtship of June. Here’s “old” Melissa schooling her lying niece Heidi, thanks to the careful scholarship of Lena Delle at In Search of Rex Morgan, M.D.:

Rex Morgan, M.D., 10/16/1971

Yes, that’s old June, née Gale, in the first panel.

The second thing about today’s strip is that look on June’s face in the third panel — of what, exactly? Avarice, which passes for lust in her loveless, superficial life? Maybe, but I like to think it’s hope — of escape, of a normal vacation free from menacing floodwaters, shipboard plague, or psycho boyfriends just this once — or maybe for a return to those sweet old days when despite all Melissa’s prodding Rex stayed far, far away from her.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 8/18/12

And Grampy has had a long long life, wasted trying to dull the misery of his empty marriage with porn and likker. Everyone finds this hilarious.

Love Is, 8/18/12

Heh, heh — it’s funny because DEATH.


Hey, Josh is off-grid for the week at his Secret Writer’s Retreat in the Northern Part of the State. Reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net with site issues, spam alerts, etc.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Judge Parker, 8/5/12

The first time I saw Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, it was at the tail end of a big Hitchock binge, and so one of the things I found most striking about it was that it was about half of a typical Hitchcock movie. Which is to say: As in most of his movies, we get a cast of quirky character trading snappy dialogue, and start to get a sense of dysfunction underlying their interpersonal dynamics. Usually, the story’s excitement would emerge from these relationships fairly early in the movie; but in The Birds, whatever plot you think is brewing is suddenly and violently pushed aside by an incomprehensible apocalypse, as (uh, spoilers, I guess) every bird in the world suddenly goes insane and starts attacking humanity. It’s well and truly shocking in particular if you’re a Hitchcock fan, because you watch one of his meticulously constructed universes suddenly shatter under assault from an external force that is never explained.

This is a long way of me saying that, if the current round of enjoyable but predictable Judge Parker antics were abruptly interrupted by a terrifying and bloody raccoon revolution, I for one would be fully in favor of such a development.

Mary Worth, 8/5/12

Guys, sorry I left you hanging on the Mary Worth boat-plot — metaphorically, I mean, not literally hanging off the side of a listing cruise boat, like these guys. Anyway, Wilbur didn’t fall to his death and it looks like our gang will be rescued by a helicopter instead? Which, call me a swimming-snob if you must, but is it really easier to pluck half a dozen terrified passengers from the tilted deck of a rapidly sinking ship than it is for those passengers to, say, swim the length of two swimming pools through warm coastal non-oceanic water to safety? Tell me I’m crazy! Am I crazy?

Rex Morgan, 8/5/12

I’ll probably get sick of “Rex Morgan smiles to himself while taking flack from sassy old people” plotlines at some point, but for now, I say bring ’em on! “Tell me something I don’t know!” Rex says to Melissa, trying to figure out how to get into the space suddenly left open in her will by her ungrateful niece.

Spider-Man, 8/5/12

As if you couldn’t tell from the entire run of Newspaper Spider-Man to this point, spider-sense can not predict or protect against public humiliation.

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Apartment 3-G, 8/3/12

God, you guys, so long ago (so long ago I’m not even going to bother digging up the links) Margo had this boyfriend (or at least a dude she was making out with) named Trey who was an architect and who somehow got permission from his bosses to completely rebuild the Mills Gallery (which, let’s not forget, Margo owns or at least manages or something, because she inherited it from her previous boyfriend, who died in Tibet, for real) in his vision of a neo-Art Deco style, free of charge, because … because it’s an arts nonprofit, I guess? And Trey was making out with its owner/manager? Sure, those seem like good reasons to do a lot of pricey professional work pro bono.

Anyway, I bring this up not just because I want to show off (for certain very limited definitions of “show off”) my knowledge of apparently jettisoned A3G backstory, but because Margo’s vague references to the office being “picture perfect” at least sort of admits that said backstory at one point existed. Trey is nowhere to be seen, and the vague background decor looks nothing like whatever neo-Art Deco might be, but there does appear to be a picture hanging on the wall, which may be what she’s referring to. Maybe Trey got his budget for the job cut until all he could afford to do was hang a new painting on the wall of Margo’s office, and then he had to cease to exist, to save money.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/3/12

Oh, were you worried that Rex Morgan wasn’t going to get his cut? Don’t worry, Rex Morgan always gets his cut.