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Mary Worth, 3/15/06

So, presumably because of outraged letters from portly advice columnists everywhere, Mary Worth has jettisoned its Wilbur-gets-sued storyline like so much ballast from a bald-headed hot air balloon. This week we’ve gotten a new saga starting up, with trophy wife Toby Cameron making awkward attempts to befriend Charterstone’s resident meddler. What with her husband being roughly Mary’s age, you’d think that she’d know how to talk politely to old people. Instead, she not only refers to Mary as being of “a certain age,” but condescendingly pledges not to “outwalk” her on her young, sexy, coltish legs. Maybe those “passive-aggressive hostility quotes” fly right over the head of your blowhard chinbeard of a husband, Toby, but Mary Worth does not miss a trick. See that weird hand gesture she’s making in the second panel? She’s about to grab you by the ear and drag your skinny blonde ass out the door.

Meanwhile, over in Rex Morgan, Dr. Troy McHomosexual finally makes his move:

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/15/06

Can you imagine how dissapointed Rex is going to be? The only reason he went out on this damn jaunt was to get some action, but I think he’s about to get an Amway pitch instead.

Oh, one more thing: Some readers might think that I’ve hemmed myself in a bit by focusing my blog on just the comics. Heck, sometimes I feel restricted myself. But I honestly believe that the best blogs — both the best ones to read and the most rewarding ones to write — are the ones where there is a single thread that holds things together. With that in mind, I give you a comics blog I discovered today with much more of a laser-beam focus than I could ever hope to provide:

The Silent Penultimate Panel Watch

SPPW: We salute your extreme specificity.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/12/06

Now, there’s no denying it: we’ve all had some fun with Rex Morgan, M.D. over the past few weeks, with the “twosomes” and “ball whacking” and the “plenty of extra balls” and what have you. But I for one realized today that I’ve been distracted by three weeks of giggle-inducing double entendres from a grim, shocking fact: the current Rex Morgan, M.D. storyline appears to be about two doctors playing golf. No wounded war vets. No mysterious human bones. No demented old ladies abusing children. Just … golf. Wealthy white men playing golf. I feel kind of empty inside. I don’t think even Rex getting blown on the seventh hole is going to make me feel any better.

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OK, so I skipped a day yesterday … so, to make it up, here’s a big mishmosh of stuff from the last couple of days, arright?

Get Fuzzy, 3/7/06

When I was a little kid, I used to think that white people were pink, in the sense that, if I were coloring and I wanted to color in a person who was supposed to be white, I’d reach for the pink crayon. Kinda weird, I know, but I also thought my father was black. (Hey, he has kinky hair and is really swarthy and I didn’t understand genetics, alright?) One day in first grade, this little girl who I had a crush on (to the extent that a six-year-old can understand what a crush is) decided she wanted to color with me, and we were coloring together and then she asked to borrow a pink crayon, and I assumed it was to color one of the people we had drawn, but she started using it to color in the background instead, and then I got upset yelled at her that she wasn’t doing it right, and so she left in a huff. First in a long series of relationships I managed to sabotage from the start. In retrospect, the fact the she herself was black might have had something to do with it. Interracial romance is tough, don’t let anybody tell you different.

Anyway, this may be why my all-time favorite Bucky-deployed anti-Rob slur is “Pinky.” This strip gets special props from me because it manages to use three different variants of the term in four panels.

Gil Thorp, 3/7/06

God damn, but Gil Thorp is awesome. I don’t know what’s wrong with you all that you can’t appreciate it. Where else would you see a high school basketball fan taunt a homeless teen by dressing up as a hobo? North Bend must have a strong drama department, with an emphasis on the Theater of Cruelty.

Mary Worth, 3/8/06

Yeah, she’s a pilot of sorts … the “sort” of pilot who knows how to “fly a plane.” Which is pretty much the usual “sort.” There’s only two possible motivations for Salty Cal’s ripped-from-an-infomercial line in panel two: either he thinks “pilot of sorts” is code for something kinky (and is thus in for a bitter, bitter disappointment) or he’s the first character in the history of Mary Worth who knows how to correctly use sarcasm.

Also, that little sign at the bottom left of panel one, which appears to depict a giant fish playing pinball, is the single greatest bit of incidental art ever to appear in this strip.

Dick Tracy, 3/8/06

I have no idea why this horse is dragging an unconscious German infantry mime through the snow here. I just think it’s funny that Dick Tracy has finally come to terms with the fact that his wrist-phone is no longer cutting-edge technology.

Marvin, 3/8/06

Ha, ha! Marvin’s grandmother thinks Marvin’s grandfather is fat! Oh, that kills me. Really kills me. It makes me feel dead inside. Is this what you have to look forward to after forty years or so of marriage? I can’t wait. The best part is the contrast between her smug smile and his look of utter mortification. I’m surprised she isn’t extending the weigh station metaphor and charging him.

Meanwhile, in Judge Parker, Ned has been weeping one slow-motion, gelatinous tear after another for five straight days:

Also, Rex Morgan? Still gay.

Oh yes, let’s.