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Mary Worth, 9/26/11

Ha ha, for someone who’s been leaning on Gina for weeks to go find true love with the childhood sweetheart who’s long forgotten her, Mary sure hasn’t come up with any particularly practical method to bring the two of them together. “Gina, I know that soccer stars are the biggest celebrities in the United States, and that therefore Bobby is surrounded by handlers and bodyguards at all times, with an ordinary mortal like you being incapable of getting any kind of message to him. Have you considered camping out at the arena for days in advance, so you can select the perfect seat in the front row and hope against hope that he catches a glimpse of you as he runs past?” “No, Mary, I’m thinking of a more direct way to contact him! I’ll just bribe the security staff at the hotel where he’s staying to let me into his suite, where I’ll wait in the bathroom for him, with a knife!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/26/11

Oh, snap, it looks like Spider isn’t just another one of Rex Morgan’s endless string of punk rock villains, which is great, because the only thing better than ham-fistedly evil punk rockers are ham-fistedly emo punk rockers. He’s actually going to be a way for all of us to learn about the serious problem of teenage self-harm, and how you shouldn’t call kids who need help with real psychological conditions “losers,” especially if you’re a former petty thief whose mom is a meth addict.

Apartment 3-G, 9/26/11

Hey, wait, remember how Paul bought a rundown old house in the country, because he couldn’t live with his parents forever? Well, apparently now that he’s chosen a mate, he was let in on the Linski code: all mated Linskis must live in the quarters prepared for them on the Linski cult compound … or be destroyed.

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Slylock Fox, 9/19/11

Good lord, what has that fiend Count Weirdly done now? He’s hypnotized these innocent rodeo dudes and forced them to dance about for his entertainment! And the only way Slylock can free them is to unscramble the magic word, which is … money? Huh. I’m thinking that Weirdly didn’t “hypnotize” the cow-poking gentlemen so much as pay them for their dancing services. You know, rodeoing doesn’t pay the bills like it used to, and if a cowboy has to make a little money on the side by showing off his square-dancing skills for a private customer, well, there’s no shame in that. Why are you trying to get in the middle of this wholly innocent and consensual private transaction, Slylock?

Judge Parker and Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/19/11

Say, what’s up in the Woody Wilson-penned soap strips? Well, it looks like Sam and Abbey will be buying a monstrously oversized three-bedroom behemoth that probably isn’t legal to drive on any road in the United States, and Sam, who certainly doesn’t have the specialized certification needed to operate it, is preparing his trademark negotiating technique that will take full advantage of this rapidly bankrupting motor home dealership’s dire financial straits. Meanwhile, the Morgan family is coming to grips with the fact that they also own an indulgent and impractical vehicle that none of them know how to steer. The fact that Sarah’s egregious act of ass-kissing in the face of all reality results in her immediate promotion goes to show that loyalty is more valued than competence within the Morgan clan, which should result in some nautical good times for all of us as the S.S. Rex sinks in some spectacular and hilarious fashion mere minutes after it hits the open seas.

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Beetle Bailey, 9/10/11

Oh, Mr. Fireman, I think General Halftrack knows very well how this show ends. It ends with him dying in the fire he set himself, drinking himself into a stupor as the smoke fills his lungs. He hates himself too much to go on living, just as he hates his wife too much to leave her the satisfaction of a nice house to live out her final years in. Don’t bother trying to rescue him; you’re just wasting your time.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/10/11

Today’s fun fake punk rock slang: “We need to make this scene!” Use it whenever you feel compelled to put on an appearance at the hot party of your choice, won’t you?