Comment of the Week

Really liking that accusing look on Dennis's face. 'I was promised some kind of circus freak who lived like a dog, and instead I get this boring suburban schmoe? Boo! Zero stars!’

pugfuggly

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/30/07

So, after three years of doing this site, I’ve discovered The Rex Morgan Problem, which goes something like this: The set-up for each storyline is delightful, but once we get to the climax, my interest suddenly deflates. Rex and Troy’s gay golf game kept me in stitches for hours! But then there was blackmail and SWAT teams and ZZZZZZZ. June and a 12-year-old banter about oral sex! But then there was an attempt to kidnap or kill him or something? YAWN! I’m beginning to suspect that it’s my problem, not the strip’s. Anyway, this is my apology for cutting back on my RMMD coverage just when it got ostensibly “exciting.” See, they found Milton and suddenly Pete the Chauffeur, who has seemed like a good guy all this time, is suddenly fleeing with Heather in tow because … he’s bad? Somehow? And now that Milton is really alive his hopes of being the power behind the throne are dashed? Also, he’s in the NSA? And the Chinese are involved? Maybe? But I don’t really care. Honest to God, can we just go back to June insulting civil servants and Rex being a dick to everyone because an uncomprehending world won’t accept him as he is? Because that’s what I tune in for.

I do like today’s last panel: if Rex were an ordinary protagonist, his implication would be “The cops won’t be able to find him … so I will!” as he drives to Pete’s secret hiding place that only he’s smart enough to discover. But this being Rex, his implication is “So, there’s no hope and we might as well move on,” and his destination is the office. Or Baskin-Robbins.

Family Circus, 8/30/07

This is my favorite kind of Family Circus: the kind where Jeffy is aggressively ignorant. He knows that everyone else in the family thinks he’s a moron — deep down, he probably knows that he is a moron — so he figures he’s just going to make their life difficult with it. Today we have the typical kids-say-the-darndest-things-because-they-treat-idioms-literally schtick, but there’s something about his attitude that says that he knows his little question is going make grandma regret coming over to try to relate to the little rugrats. “Gosh, grandma, how does ‘tight’ relate to sleeping, huh? Are we talking about my bowels? Because mommy says I have to sleep with those tight. What if I sleep loose and poop all over the bed, huh? What if that, huh? Grandma? Huh?”

(oh my god I just admitted that I had a favorite kind of Family Circus I’m screwed now)

Marmaduke, 8/30/07

OK, the MUNCH MUNCH MUCH I can deal with. I get it, the damn dog is chewing his way through bags and probably boxes to devour all of his family’s food before they get a chance to do so, sure, whatever. It’s the LICK LICK that really makes me uncomfortable. I’m assuming that he’s slobbering all over the grocery items that he can’t get down his ravenous gullet — the canned goods, the frozen foods — so that it’s all covered with a thick layer of viscous Great Dane drool. He may not be able to eat it, but he’s going to make sure that it’s so disgusting that his owners won’t want to either, because, fuck you, he’s Marmaduke.

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/30/07

The Dubbers just love — like, we mean love — their flix with bombings, earthquakes, explosions, train wrecks, etc., etc.

(“Hmm, lotsa shootings in this one … huh, that fella lost an arm … howja think they did all that fake blood, witha computer?”)

But! Let ’em see one li’l nipple … and the whole menagerie is up and at ’em!

(“Awk! Filth! This is disgustin’! And little Hekkie saw it! He’ll be scarred for life … I’m writin’ Senator Blowhard … an outrage … should be able to watch HBO at 10 pm without seeing this garbage …”)

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Blondie, 8/29/07

Long-time Blondie readers have always marvelled at the uncanny resemblance between Dagwood’s neighbor/golf buddy/source of free tools Herb Woodley and mailman Mr. Beasley. The same face, the same bulging forehead, the same mustache. Could they be long-lost relatives? Was Herb actually the neighborhood mailman, assuming a new name and identity as he walked his route for inscrutable reasons of his own? Today, though, as his long-firmly-attached hat goes flying, we learn that, unlike Herb, Mr. Beasley in fact completely bald. It is a testament to the power of the comics and the long-running features within that this has completely blown my fucking mind. Cynic that I am, I can’t stop looking at his bare head.

For Better Or For Worse, 8/29/07

ha ha ha foolish girl no patterson is ever free

Mark Trail, 8/29/07

I’m beginning to suspect that Shirley the Duck has special powers, and I don’t just mean her stunning plumage, which has won her drag king competitions all over Lost Forest. No, first she somehow convinced the construction foreman to halt work on this extremely important mall, and now she’s working her sinister magic on the son of the big boss himself! As more and more people come within range of her mind-control rays, her army will grow larger and larger, until that mall finds itself transformed into a Shirleytarium, dedicated to her care, feeding, and worship. There will be bread crumbs. Many, many bread crumbs.

Slylock Fox, 8/29/07

Wow, that lion is pissed — and, really, can you blame him? Most doctors don’t even take their patients’ pulse themselves, and here some nosey freelance detective is getting Panthera Leo, M.D., to put his hard-earned medical skills to use to bust someone for stealing magazines from the waiting room. I think someone’s going to have some angry words with the managers of Medical Plaza. Presumably the only way to calm him down will be to allow him to eat Slick Smitty, whether he’s guilty or not.

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Hey, kids! Before we tackle today’s comics, we have to go back to yesterday’s TDIET:

They’ll Do It Every Time, 8/27/07

Why this trip into the wayback machine? Well, it turns out that “the good daughter” is faithful Comics Curmudgeon reader TaxiGirl! She provides the real story behind this little drama:

In the interests of strict accuracy, my mother usually isn’t arranging a bridge meeting (I’m not sure if she’s ever played bridge in her life) — but “My mother demands that I call her back urgently … and then inevitably has to go to the bathroom as soon as she picks up the phone” apparently doesn’t suit this sort of a family feature.

The first panel, however, is right-on.

Sadly, this does not appear to give me “The Urge.”

I’m just amazed that Luluna’s phone is a wireless handset that could have actually been sold in a store in the last ten years.

And now on to today:

Baldo, 8/28/07

“Hello, there! We’re the cast of Baldo! We know that you normally turn to us for gentle humor about family life, teenagerhood, and the Latino experience in the United States. But did you know that we wouldn’t be able to bring you this enjoyable thirty seconds of the day if it weren’t for … newspapers? That’s right! They aren’t just repositories of day-old stories, stock prices you could look up on the Internet, news about city politicians you’ve barely heard of, and incomprehensible legal notices — they also keep cartoonists gainfully employed! So, for the love of God, please, keep subscribing to the damn newspaper! You don’t want Baldo’s creator to have to go back to a real job, do you?”

Funky Winkerbean, 8/28/07

And so the trip straight to the heart of death-flavored madness … begins! At first, I thought this might be a reference to that hospice cat that always seems to know when the patients are going to die, but clearly it’s seeking out Les, not Lisa. So it has a different kind of ability: namely, the ability to tell when someone is about to begin a booze-fueled descent into depression!

Also, it can talk, apparently? Yeah, sure, what the hell, why not.

Hi and Lois, 8/28/07

Not being a golfer myself, I use the comics as a sort of anthropological window into the golfing lifestyle, since so many comics artists seem to be obsessed with the game. For instance, it never occurred to me that you’d put on sunscreen to go play nine holes, though having read this of course that’s obvious. And it also never occurred to me that, if it were sunny enough to require sunscreen, you’d still leave on your ink-black, presumably wool suit, because they like formal attire on the course. And I never would have guessed that, if you skip out on work once in a while to do something you enjoy, you wouldn’t tell your wife, the person you’re ostensibly closest too, unless there was some other way that she’d find out. And finally, it was never so clear to me as it is now how “putting on sunscreen to play golf” would be a great cover for putting on sunscreen to go to a nude beach. The comics: so educational!

Pluggers, 8/28/07

Yup, ever since the Wal-Mart opened the next town over, there’ve been some changes in this plugger’s local neighborhood. Not to complain: now milk’s thirty cents a gallon cheaper, and isn’t that worth an extra twenty minutes or so of driving? But you can’t blame him from talking in the past tense: “take a left at the huge, empty, greyish husk of a building, go a couple of miles and it’s on the right across from the mid-sized yellowish burnt-for-the-insurance money husk of a building, next to the Dollar Store” just sounds depressing.

Mary Worth, 8/28/07

Mary’s “Uh-oh!” can’t be about Dr. Drew’s two-timing, since she doesn’t understand or care about ordinary human concepts like “love.” No, she’s more worried that he’s stealing her patented schtick: talking in annoying aphorisms with quote marks around them even though they don’t really appear to be quotes from anything. Also, he’s apparently been taking fashion advice from Ian Cameron — always a very, very bad sign.