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Rex Morgan, M.D., 5/26/14

One of the things I pride myself on is having a memory for the literal decade’s worth of soap opera plots I’ve covered in my time as American’s #1 soap opera comic obsessee, but even for me some things fall through the cracks. For example, until some faithful readers pointed it out in the comments, I had completely forgotten that Kelly was the midriff-baring, mom-sassing, evil punk dating antiheroine of a storyline from 2011, which ended with her paired up with Niki. Anyway, she’s now been thoroughly degothed, presumably on parental orders, which might make her somewhat sympathetic for her blackmailing little charge, who’s being forced by the museum to dress up like a parody French artist, complete with beret, for paying visitors to gawk at. “Your head’s hot? Oh, I hear you, kid. Check out this sweater they’ve got me wearin’. Man, I remember the days when my stomach was just free and exposed to the cooling air. That was the life.”

Spider-Man, 5/26/14

It’s hard for me to pick a favorite minor character in this strip. I’m obviously a big fan of Prison Guard Who Takes Time During Crisis To Weave An Evocative Metaphor, and Off-Panel Patron Of MUSEUM Who Gamely Assumes Dr. Octopus’s Arms Are Running Away From Them Rather Than Towards Their Master. But I think I’m going to have to go with Guy In Hat in panel three, who’s hanging out with Peter and MJ in some … room … where there are curtains and a floating flat-screen TV, and he’s just going to town on a sandwich. “Earth tremor? State prison? Sounds like someone’s problem, but it sure ain’t mine! [CHEWING NOISES]”

Crock, 5/26/14

Look at this sneering criminal, using God’s loopholes to escape divine punishment for a life of crime! I can’t keep track of various Christian denominations’ stance on grace and repentance and free will and predestination and such well enough to know who exactly this strip is going to irritate the most, but I certainly hope that it prompts little children across the country to have awkward conversations with their clergy! (Ha ha, just kidding, no little children read Crock, I mean why would they.)

Funky Winkerbean, 5/26/14

Soooo … his actual name is “Chester Hagglemore”? And Holly’s going to have to haggle with him to complete Cory’s Starbuck Jones collection? And his name is Hagglemore? Because he likes to haggle … more? Eh? Eh? Get it? He probably doesn’t need another nickname, is what I’m trying to say.

Gasoline Alley, 5/26/14

So, yes, doing some “kids engage in the darndest wordplay” schtick does seem like kind of poor taste when the topic is an actual dying child! But don’t worry, if I had to guess I’d say this is the start of a “Boog gets grifted” storyline.

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Panel from Slylock Fox, 5/25/14

Let’s ignore, for the moment, that Count Weirdly has developed a functional, practical, and presumably quite marketable virtual reality device and is only using it to irritate Sly and Max. I think that the form he’s chosen for his holo-annoyance is quite revealing. Forget about random geographic inaccuracies; it’s more important that Slylock and Max have been thrust back to a world of pre-sapient animals, one where humans like Count Weirdly are still the dominant species. It would be as if we were suddenly confronted by specimens of Australopithecus africanus, Homo erectus, and Homo neanderthalensis: we would be far too unsettled at an encounter with our primitive ancestors, very much like us but at the same time separated by a vast intellectual gulf, to really spend much time griping that the native habitats of these various species were separated by thousands of miles and millions of years.

Perhaps Weirdly’s choice of holo-program reveals why his incredible invention has remained in his castle lab. If ultimately he can only imagine the animal species who dominate the outside world in terms of the primitive forms from his own childhood, then surely the idea of selling advanced technology to them must fill him with horror and contempt.

Panels from Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 5/25/14

Speaking of primitive societies, Snuffy Smith is here to remind us that notions of romantic love are a luxury available only to the global elite. In most times and places, simple economic calculations are the primary factors in choosing a mate.

Panels from Beetle Bailey, 5/25/14

On Memorial Day weekend, the soldiers of Beetle Bailey finally achieve a tragic degree of self-awareness — just enough to understand their predicament as characters in an absurdist comic strip, but not enough to do anything about it.

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Dick Tracy, 5/24/14

About a year ago I wrote a review for Bookforum of a couple of books about political cartooning, including a profusely illustrated biography of Thomas Nast, and hey, do you know who Thomas Nast really disliked? The Irish! One of the interesting things about seeing Nast’s old cartoons is getting a look at a whole style of racial caricature that’s fallen more or less completely out of use, though the similarly Celtic Scot Tabby Angus seems to carry just a hint of it in his character design. Anyway, big thanks to today’s cartoon for familiarizing me with the term cailleach, which, according to Wikipedia, is an Irish or Scottish mythological being who is “a divine hag, a creatrix, and possibly an ancestral deity or deified ancestor.” Since this is Gravel Gertie we’re talking about, who gave birth to some terrifying nightmare-thing we still haven’t gotten a good look at, I’d say that’s a pretty good description.

Family Circus, 5/24/14

Daddy looks pleased with Dolly’s playtime plans. With her urge to force a diverse range of creatures into the uniform and soul-numbing world of white-collar work, she’s perfect for middle management! At least one Keane Kid isn’t going to keep moving back home well into their 30s.

Better Half, 5/24/14

It’s too bad that the Better Half is a one-panel cartoon, because if we had panel after panel of this poor cashier forcing pizza down his gullet, chewing with grim determination, because he’s not hungry, but Stanley got the diet pizza, and a job is a job, and the two of them stare at each other in blank, expressionless silence, then I’d be an extremely happy guy.