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Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/25/05

Dr. Hamilton is, of course, a man of science, so when he expresses combined-bold-and-italics-level shock at the notion that Buck was sired by a human male in the usual way, I assume it’s because he had already settled on an alternative explanation for the young man’s existence. Here are some potential theories:

• He was brewed up in a lab by a secretive clan of scientists looking to create the ultimate, fearless manifestation of modern man in all his wonderful and terrible glory.
• He was shot forth self-living out of the bosom of the Earth, perfectly formed, with a day’s growth of beard and every sexy blond hair out of place just so.
• He arrived from outer space in a glowing disk of light, with so much to teach us about our place in the universe … and about each other.
• He was born of a virgin, and was beaten within an inch of his life with a fence post for our sins.
• He just showed up one day on the outskirts of town, hitching a ride in on an old pick-up truck. We never did catch where he came from, but things sure are less exciting around here now that he’s gone.

With such lofty ideas in mind, I can understand that it must come as a shock and disappointment to Dr. Hamilton to learn that Buck’s genesis came about in the usual way. Especially when he got a load of the combover on one half of that genesis.

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Apartment 3-G, 7/21/05

So, when Lu Ann first spotted this dreamy hunk of selfless billionaire through a glass windowpane, this is what I had to say about it:

Instead, though, it looks like we’re going to have to sit through eight and a half boring weeks of a boring boring storyline about Lu Ann’s boring boring boring love life.

Well, here we are, eight and half boring weeks later, and the strip is just sitting here like a pile of something too boring to even bother describing. It’s just been one nonstop boring date after another, and since Scott is so gosh darn nice to everybody and Lu Ann won’t put out, there’s no possibility of anything interesting happening ever. If this storyline were any more boring, just reading it would cause you to go back in time. In fact, as you can see here, even the coloring sweatshop workers are bored … unless we’re expected to believe that Scott decided to wear a flesh-colored polo shirt for hanging around in Lu Ann’s flesh-colored kitchen. Maybe it’s some kind of camouflage so that he can sneak up on her and cop a feel, since that’s clearly the only action he’s going to be getting.

And speaking of boring…

Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/21/05

We’ve already seen that the Morgans, despite their fancy medical educations, are stupider than both a “rescue” dog and a bumpkin who’s so backwoods that he uses meat as a medium of exchange instead of U.S. currency. Now we learn that they’re also dumber than their own day-care age daughter, who’s apparently started talking like a snarky adult at some point during this interminable storyline.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 6/16/05

“I told you, boy! I told you! I told you that if you tried to go into some kind of pansy-ass line of work like ahr-kee-ology that someone would try to beat you to death with a fence post!”

Seriously, I’m not sure what makes a profession “manly,” but if it puts you in a position where you might be bludgeoned to death, well, that seems pretty damn butch to me. Of course, I’m sure that’s just the sort of fancy-pants graduate school logic that would enrage Pater Foxworth all the more.

Also: It’s been covered already by you witty commentators, but I feel obligated to share this bizarre Gil Thorp panel with the masses:

Note to high school baseball coaches who use images of the Virgin Mary as pitchers: if your icon of the Holy Mother of God begins to sweat and/or weep blood, it’s time to bring in a reliever. May we suggest St. James the Just? Or Coleman. Whatever.