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Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/23/08

I’ve talked before about the Rex Morgan problem, which causes me to lose interest in the adventures of our dashing doctor at the moment at which they ostensibly become exciting. My favorite bits are always the moments of calm and barely concealed passive aggression before the storm, not in the gunplay and car chases and what have you. Today is a perfect example of the seething psychodrama that underlies this strip, as Rex, having whined about always being asked to help man Lenore’s regatta entry, is now about to start whining about not being asked. Presumably he’ll do some amateur sluething to discover why he’s been snubbed and discover skullduggery and intrigue, thus proving that dickishness is the universe’s most powerful force for good.

Family Circus, 8/23/08

Dolly, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with anyone touching his or her command module. It’s perfectly natural and healthy. If mommy and daddy had spent more time touching their command modules, there probably wouldn’t be so many of you terrible melonheads running around.

Archie, 8/23/08

Ho ho ho! The AGJLU 3000 knows that there’s nothing the humans find more amusing than jokes about geometery.

Shoe, 8/23/08

“Now I’m dying of heart disease and skin cancer! Damn the slow, painstaking march of science!”

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Slylock Fox, 8/17/08

Oh, sure, the main puzzle in today’s Slylock at first glance seems like it could take place in any abandoned house being used as a hideout by a criminal gorilla; it’s a common story, what with the recent spike in home foreclosures and downsizing at local primate houses. But check out that portrait hanging by the door: that’s none other than Mr. Mark Trail. I think it’s pretty clear that Harry Ape is holed up in the house where Kelly Welly spent her sad, final years. Having lost the good looks that allowed her to bend men to her will, and alienated her friends by her constant foolishness, she was left with nothing but her picture of her one true love; she spent the last days of her life alone, throwing chicken bones on the floor and propping up her crumbling furniture with cinder blocks. It’s quite sad, really.

Family Circus, 8/17/08

I was going to say that there could be no greater horror than the concept of “water sports” as applied to the Keane Kids, but then I got a load of the actual panel so entitled. While we are treated to a hint of Billy Ass, at least we are spared any glimpse of Little Billy. Thank God for Newton’s First Law of Motion, as it applies to dangly bits.

In the “hurdles” panel, Mom is clearly either going kick Jeffy right in the ribcage or go sprawling onto the stovetop; I vote for the former, as that will learn him to loll around in front of pots spewing out ominous black smoke. Also, “wrestling” appears to be code for “beating the living crap out of Daddy.” Even the animals are getting in on the savage assault.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/17/08

Rex is looking pretty chipper in panel four, presumably because he’s totally intrigued by the concept of separate vacations. “If taking vacations apart is good for a marriage, maybe spending all our time apart will be even better!” But by the final panel, he’s looking very, very sad indeed. “Damn it, it’s awkward enough avoiding sexual advances from my wife; I don’t want to have to deal with this at work, too!”

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/16/08

I am sadly far removed from the good, honest, manly work that goes on aboard boats, so the only association I have with the phrase “cabin boy” is “teenage sexual plaything for lonely sailors.” Presumably there’s something nautical that a cabin boy would be making himself useful for, but if thirtysomething landlubber jerkface Rex Morgan could actually do something productive on board other than show off his manly chest so that Lenore and/or her crew can get their jollies, I’d love to hear it.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/16/08

Oh, also, Grandpa Jim is dying or something. I’m going to pass over the tiresome melodrama here for the moment (if he really didn’t want to spoil her day, then why did he go and have a heart attack in the middle of it?); I mostly want to comment on Uncle Phil’s creepy, glowing eyes in the next-to-last panel. Though it’s not entirely clear what they’re supposed to denote, this is a very striking effect, so much so that I immediately remembered the last time I saw it in this strip: the day that Liz and Anthony half-assedly got engaged. One can only assume that it denotes the imminent death of something wonderful and precious (e.g., Liz’s grandfather, Liz’s carefree existence as a human being who thinks and feels).

Marvin, 8/16/08

Here’s a question that has puzzled generations of professional humorists. Imagine that you have a terrible, terrible joke. This joke has nothing to do with the interests or concerns of babies. If that joke were stretched out over three panels, and thought-ballooned by three near-identical drawings of a heavy-lidded, sullen, unlikeable infant, would it become funny, or at least less unfunny? Thanks to the bravery of this Marvin, we now know that the answer is a resounding “no”!

Dick Tracy, 8/16/08

Another philosophical conundrum: Is depicting a mangled human being, his flesh torn to ribbons by his own savage dogs, somehow acceptable for the comics pages if an onlooker makes some half-assed wordplay comparing the poor soul to a pork chop or t-bone steak of the sort that you’d see for sale in your local supermarket? Based on the absence of outraged letters demanding the removal of Dick Tracy from all newspapers everywhere, the answer is apparently “yes”!