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Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/30/23

I guess Mud Mountain Murphy’s apology tour has now become Mud Mountain Murphy’s relentless attempt to extract forgiveness from Truck, which isn’t exactly in the spirit of humility and self-abnegation that Professor Mirakle preached, I don’t think. Mud has apparently decided to check in at the Glenwood Hotel, which is where Truck sheltered in place after contracting some kind of not-COVID respiratory virus in the spring of 2020. It’s a real shithole, which is why it was the perfectly depressing setting for a roots country tune that went unpredictably viral, which ironically means that, despite being in better financial straits, Truck feels honor-bound to just live there permanently now. Anyway, I can’t remember if the owner was originally one Glenwood’s surprisingly large contingent of roots country maniacs before all this happened; I’d like to imagine that he was more a classic rock guy, or maybe into Motown, but was compelled to get way into the roots country scene after his establishment got RootsTok famous, which would explain both his pompadour/sideburns lewk and his clear knowledge of the Mud-Truck feud’s current status.

Six Chix, 8/30/23

I love that this dog is derisively telling his owner to “tell it to the postman, dude.” The Postal Service is of course the mortal enemy of the canine race, and a dog can imagine no better way to degrade you than to suggest that you voluntarily interact with one of its employees.

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Dustin, 8/8/23

Pardon me, Dustin, but didn’t this cute unattached (no ring, anyway) vaguely bohemian young redhead just express an interest in you? And the best you can muster is some half-assed wisecrack? Maybe you’re daydreaming about all those girls who’re gonna shoot you down at the fern bar tonight? Up your game, buddy, or at least pay attention.

Six Chix, 8/8/23

Did she just put her nose inside that pumpkin’s nose? Only the pumpkin knows for sure, but signs point to “Yes.”

Candorville, 8/8/23

Smoothest line you’re gonna get from a guy in a Kirk shirt.

Gil Thorp, 8/8/23

The question “Where is Milford? (more precisely, “Which Milford?” among the many) has long puzzled the sages. Opinion seemed settled on western Ohio, but today’s “hoagie” makes a strong case for eastern Pennsylvania.

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Six Chix, 7/22/23

One of the fundamental gimmicks of the comics is to provide human-level thought capabilities to animals and plants and even inanimate objects, which is all very good, but the reason that, for instance, yesterday’s piss play Six Chix was so off-putting is that it provided that sort of consciousness to a tree, which normally you don’t even think about when you let your dog piss on it, but now you’ve been given a window to a world where the tree might have opinions about being pissed on, and it’s not a view anyone wanted! Anyway, not to dwell on it, but, Six Chix, what are you doing, why are these animals having conversations in human language about eating poop, I’m begging you to step back from the brink.

Marvin, 7/22/23

And babies! Babies are the same deal! An actual preverbal infant pissing himself: fine, normal, you take it in stride; a Marvin character baby pissing himself and saying “I’m doing this for the attention!”: gross, horrible, why is this happening, how can we make it stop?

Curtis, 7/22/23

OK, in non-piss news, this one is going to require a bit of setup, but: Curtis got a summer job working at a sea turtle rescue org, and there was a sea turtle who had lost a flipper and who was always very depressed but got happy when Curtis was around, and it first they thought it was in love with Curtis, but then it turned out it just loved his trademark green hat, so everyone else who worked there got one too. But then they also figured out that it would be happier if they gave it a prosthetic fin? Which makes you wonder why they didn’t just do that in the first place?? They’re literally an organization that rescues and cares for sea turtles??? And their first thought was hat-based therapy????