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The Phantom, 1/8/06

Keen-eyed readers spotted Rex and June Morgan, out for a stroll in Manhattan, in the final panel of this Phantom comic. (This makes sense, to the extent that anything that happens in either of these features makes sense, because the Sunday Phantom and Rex Morgan, M.D. are both drawn by Graham Nolan.) Harder to identify is Little Orphan Annie, now 52 and nearsighted, but with normal pupils restored after six agonizing surgeries, grinning out at us from just to their left.

Least exciting sentence ever in an ostensible “adventure” comic: “I need to get on-line!” I’m really looking forward to next Sunday’s Phantom installment, featuring Google search after thrilling Google search. My appetite is just whetted by the adrenaline-fueling “NEXT: DEAD END!” teaser box.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/20/05

Wow, how much do I not find the current Rex Morgan, M.D. storyline interesting? A lot. I find it a lot not interesting. I’m not even going to bother summarizing Scrap Iron Jack’s boring quest for a good poker game, which seems to have occupied the last umpteen weeks. I do have to say that our one-eyed vet’s sweaty brow and vibrating head don’t really match up with what I understand to be the typical symptoms of compulsive gambling. He’s looking for Texas Hold ‘Em, not smack. Unless this is about the painkiller subplot that was dropped like a hot potato towards the beginning of this tedious slog, I’m unimpressed.

Anyway, the only reason I find this comic worthy of mention is the coif on our fetching bartender here (you probably can’t read it in this low-res graphic no matter how much you stare at her ample bosom, but her name tag indicates that she’s “Iris”). It’s shiny. Very, very shiny. Why is it shiny? How is it shiny? Is the answer to either question related to her daring decision to wear black lipstick to work? It’s the answers to these questions that Rex Morgan, M.D. should be tracking down, but Iris will no doubt be long forgotten by the time Jack gets to his first Gamblers Anonymous meeting sometime in 2009.

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Nothing really inspired me on Sunday … so how about three quickies from today?

Gil Thorp, 11/21/05

Dear Gil Thorp: All is forgiven. Retroactively and in advance. All of it — the bad hair, crappy art, Brent “Rap Dog” — all of the pain has been washed away by this beautiful moment. It may be that the weeks of the Brick House storyline have entirely existed to set up the exchange in panel three here. If that’s the case, I will testify in a court of law that it has not been time wasted.

The Middletons, 11/21/05

Sweet Christ, The Middletons, what sort of sick sadist are you? To portray these noble birds responding to that call for freedom and life that beats within the heart of every living being, making a desperate bid to escape, only to find the gutted, skinned, and cooked corpses of their unfortunate fellows? Oh, the horror! THE HORROR!

Seriously, though, I’m sure looking forward to Thanksgiving this Thursday, ’cause I like me some gravy and some turkey skin. Mmmm… skin. Sorry fellas!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 11/21/05

More proof: you can send a man to med school, but you can’t make him care.