Archive: Rex Morgan, M.D.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/27/23

SMASH CUT TO: a group of furious middle-aged cruise-goers dangling “Mud Mountain” Murphy off the side of the ship, threatening to let him drop into the sea unless he “plays the god-damned hits.”

Gasoline Alley, 3/27/23

SMASH CUT TO: The children all being trampled to death by Brig. Gen. Fitzhugh Lee’s Confederate cavalry division on day three of the Battle of Gettysburg, while Ida Knoe the evil doll sits in a tree, grinning down at them.

Shoe, 3/27/23

Ha ha, it’s funny because Skyler’s grim, depressing home life occasionally crosses over the line separating neglect from abuse!

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Dennis the Menace, 3/24/23

Ha ha, that is not the face of a lady who is amused or a little perturbed at the memory of of what went down during her last visit with the Mitchells; that is the face of a lady who, just as Dennis hopes, doesn’t remember that visit at all, and finds that terrifying. Was she here before? Why doesn’t she remember? Is she losing it, finally losing it once and for all?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/24/23

“By the way, don’t mention that to him. I’m not saying that I’m using my power of attorney to blow through all his money, but I am saying that you definitely should not mention anything I just said about his money subsidizing this cruise to him. OK? Nothing to worry about. But don’t say a fucking word to him on this subject.”

Beetle Bailey, 3/24/23

“Like, he knows about my crippling alcoholism, ha ha! Huh. that probably is too well, actually.”

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/21/23

Ha ha, I was right, this cruise is going to get a healthy dose of Mud Mountain’s musical scheming! I’m taking “privy” in that last word balloon as foreshadowing: there’s absolutely going to be a poop angle on this storyline as well.

Marvin, 3/21/23

Surprisingly, there isn’t a poop angle to today’s Marvin, because the strip’s going to its other typical humor source: the fact that the characters all hold each other in contempt. Hey there, generic office coworker supporting character, if you’re unsettled by this revelation, how do you think I feel, now that I know that I’m a full 13 years older than this beaten down, combovered, comics dad dweeb?

Gil Thorp, 3/21/23

You know, back in the early days of my reading this strip, if an elderly, bald African-American man showed up on the Milford campus to offer free advice to the student-athletes, he would be named Clambake and his stories about having played in the Negro Leagues would turn out to be made up. You have to admit, this is a significant upgrade that I’m not sure the Milford teens deserve.