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Luann, 9/21/06

How much of a loser is Brad DeGroot? Well, I think it’s safe to say that he doesn’t exactly have a strong internal sense of interior design, so his enthusiasm for the house must be based entirely on its present decor. And since this has been Mrs. Horner’s house for about ever, we can assume that it’s done up more or less like a home in a TDIET panel. (And let’s say nothing of the old lady smell.) This, then, is Brad’s dream crib. “Oh, the textured olive-green rug in the living room really goes nicely with the matching green glass chandelier, and … ooh, look! Hummels!”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/21/06

Boy, I’m beginning to see why Rex might want to find comfort in the arms of another. Hmmm, you were held hostage at gunpoint for the better part of an afternoon? BORRR-ing! But wait! I have to make a few phone calls to my credit card companies? DAMN YOU, MYSTERIOUS PURSE-SNATCHER! DAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL! June’s so angry she appears to be transforming into a Bratz™ doll in panel three.

So, where do you all think the Rex Morganians are going with this? My guess: Identity theft! Proving once and for all that June Morgan is no plugger.

Marmaduke, 9/21/06

I couldn’t tell you why, exactly, but this image is for me by far the most unsettling one in the comics today. I suppose that’s supposed to be a trap door (that Marmadue opened from the inside?) but to me it looks like an arbitrary chunk of ceiling that’s been mysteriously removed so that the sinister Great Dane can just stare down at his owners with his huge, soulless eyes.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/15/06

As is too often the case with this feature, the current Rex Morgan, M.D. storyline started strong and then meandered around a bit before fizzling out, taking way, way too long to wrap up. To sum up for those of you who rely on me for your Rex Morgan plot news: Rex’s boytoy Troy turned out to be a con-man named “Adam” who skipped town rather than go back to prison; Troy/Adam’s beard wife was left devastated but determined to carry on with the children’s clinic; the blackmailer was gunned down by a SWAT team, though we were assured in a half-hearted way that she’ll survive; and little Sarah’s “mystery illness” turned out to be a bruise she got when she was accidentally knocked over by the dog, but she didn’t want to rat the poor pooch out because she was afraid that she (the dog, not Sarah) would get sent back to the pound. And now we’re ready for more vaguely medically-themed adventures next week. Still, the last couple frames here are a poignant little moment between a husband and wife who have a complicated relationship and a big secret that they can’t talk about, even with each other. Presumably tomorrow’s strip is just going to feature Rex sitting alone at his desk, sobbing “Troy!” over and over.

Shoe, 9/15/06

Yeah, see, this is the sort of thing that would be funnier if all the characters in the strip weren’t, you now, birds. I mean, couldn’t the dialogue in the second panel just as easily have been, “Can you catch bird flu from any of the other characters in this strip, seeing as they’re birds and all?” Do you think that the artists have been drawing them all as birds for so long that they’ve forgotten?

Given the occasional conservative politics that bubble up in this strip, the punchline perhaps should have been, “Can you catch treason from the Dixie Chicks?” It would have been just as funny.

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People, people: the moment you’ve all been waiting for has at last arrived. Aldomania 2006 merchandise is ready for purchase!

In anticipation of overwhelming demand, we have four shirt styles available: a ringer T, a junior baby doll T, a baseball jersey, and a junior raglan. PURCHASE! CONSUME! CONSUME! I DEMAND IT!

And once you’ve purchased and consumed, you need to send me a photo of yourself wearing your newly acquired product. Faithful reader bootsybooks recently let her friends and neighbors know where they can find more information about licorice:

C’mon, Comics Curmudgeon-gear purchasers, I need those pictures! I don’t have a “Hat Man” hat pic yet, which is clearly a crying shame. Just to show that I’m not above being pictured in ludicrous poses, I offer you this picture of myself in my snazzy finger–quotin’ Margo shirt:

Yes, I am at the Minnesota State Fair making finger quotes in front of a finger-quotin’ bear carved out of a log with a chainsaw. You kind of had to have been there.

Finally, for those of you who didn’t see it in the comments, you should all of you, those of you who enjoy 17th century poetry and those who do not, appreciate faithful reader Uncle Lumpy’s homage to our favorite mustachioed stalker and Andrew Marvell’s To His Coy Mistress.

To Aldo’s Coy Mistress

HAD we but world enough, and Time,
This coyness, Mary, were no crime —
An age to lounge beside the pool,
And suffer some damn chinbeard fool,
To squander half a human life
Conversing with his moron wife,
To gab the gab of Charterstone,
And scarf croquettes with my sweet crone.
O Mary! If but time allowed,
You could have done as you have vowed:
Be true to Jeff, your noble doc!
Keep one eye, dreaming, on the clock
That when he’s fixed up the displasia
Of every lip in Southeast Asia,
He’ll break free of his houseboy’s arms,
And fly to your uncertain charms.
But I, like water on the stone
Infest the nest that Jeff has flown
And — mixing metaphors with glee —
Insinuate my love on thee!
The fear, the rage, the angry glances
Which now repel my sweet advances
In time will grow attenuated
While my own Fires rage unabated.
In Time my Mojo I’ll unleash,
For time is on my side — capisce?

But always at my back I hear
A distant siren, drawing near
Foreshadowing my interdiction
By those of my old jurisdiction
Who think I may have killed my wife —
The fingerprints, the bloody knife,
Do little good to exculpate me —
I fear a jail cell may await me!
So Mary, Mary, shed that dress —
Though lips say “no”, your eyes say “yes”.
As much as I enjoy the chase
My trophy shall be your embrace.
And no fair rose will be as sweet
As your thin lips when mine they meet!
I’ll stake my claim and take my rest
Upon your desiccated breast
Just like those swans who mate for life.
So don’t you make me get my knife!
Oh, pardon me, you needn’t worry —
Just move it, bitch, I’m in a hurry!
And don’t you dare to cry out, “AAUGH” —
I’ve tapped your phone! I’ve read your blog!
Don’t sink my heart in dark despair —
I demand this be a love we share!
Who spurns the Stalkeroo’s affection
Can take a nap ’til Resurrection.

Oh, and lest we forget our cartoon favorites of yesteryear: Fencepost Frank has a MySpace account. (If you need a refresher on Frank, one of the most awesome Rex Morgan, M.D. incidental characters ever, click here.)