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Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/3/06

I see that Rex Morgan has broken down and introduced its first black character since January. Of course, he’s a drug dealer. I like the fact that, even in the midst of a causal business-related discussion with one of his employees, he’s flashing a gang sign — because he’s that hardcore about being a gangsta. Even though we can’t see his hands in the final panel, I’d like to belive that he’s maintaining that gang sign as his lab goes up in flames. Because he’s that hardcore.

Meanwhile, June’s hit the nicey-nice trough of her emotional roller-coaster ride. As a result, Niki’s starting to warm up to her, but since her reflexes aren’t so hair-trigger at this point in her cycle of psychosis, he should really be using this opportunity to flee. That’s what Rex does.

Family Circus, 12/3/06

A commentor with some kind of inside track on the funnies posted a link to this earlier this week, but I still wasn’t emotionally prepared to see Billy’s monstrous peyote-fueled nightmare in living color in the paper. I think I’m most disturbed by Daddy: everyone else at least gets a human head on an animal body, but the horrifying combination of the man’s face with the prehensile trunk and huge, drooping ears nearly sent me over the edge. I do kind of feel bad for PJ, who has to be a feeble, hapless infant even in this twisted Dr. Moreau-esque hellscape.

Spider-Man, 12/3/06

You know, MJ and Doc Ock’s semantic “web-crawler” vs. “wall-crawler” vs. “web-spinner” debate is the most exciting conflict this strip has seen in, well, ever. If the city is going to be held at bay for the next six weeks by further argument along this line, I for one am willing to accept that.

Mark Trail, 12/3/06

You know, I … I had always assumed that pirates were the pirates of the sea. Call me crazy.

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Judge Parker, 12/2/06

It’s been repeatedly noted by many of you that the whole Randy-Parker-runs-for-judge story line in Judge Parker (which insanely enough has been brewing along in one form or another since October of 2005) has featured a lot of hue and cry over something that nobody anywhere cares about — which is to say, an election for judge. I like to consider myself a fairly informed voter — I actually spent some time this year volunteering for a candidate for the state legislature, not exactly a high-profile office — and I have never, ever encountered a judicial election in which I understood the issues or personalities involved in the least. But I was willing to cut all the improbable campaign antics in Judge Parker a bit of slack: after all, everyone we’ve seen talking about the election was actually involved in one of the campaigns, and those people always care a great deal about what they’re doing, even if nobody else does.

But as Reggie, his inept consigliere Roy, and drunken, vomitous wife Celeste hit the media scrum and the courthouse today, I officially stopped suspending my disbelief. The only reason these TV reporters would be there to cover Reggie Black filing his papers would be if the people of Judge Parker live not in modern America, but in some other civilization, where judges are actually the absolute rulers. The only such society I know of is that of the ancient Hebrews, before Samuel anointed Saul king and set up a monarchy. So there you have it, folks: despite what the clothes and buildings might imply, Judge Parker takes place in Old Testament times. Raju was actually a visiting Tyrian. Mimi’s “Eon” cult was actually a nest of Ba’al worshippers. Neddy and Sophie are actually slaves that Sam captured in battle against the Moabites. And pretty soon we’re going to come see the Philistines burn the down the entire city, which should be pretty awesome.

The other possibility is that the press is all there to cover some sensational gangland triple-homicide trial, and that Reggie is actually being totally sincere in panel two.

One Big Happy, 12/2/06

“Yeah, Ruthie, ever since you and Joe came along, your father and I don’t get to go Mattressland much anymore.”

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Marmaduke, 12/1/06

Have you ever noticed that Marmaduke is allowed to just wander aimlessly around the streets of wherever it is that he lives, more or less unmolested by the long arm of the law? Today we may be learning why: he keeps homeless people from sleeping on the benches of this bucolic suburban town. Don’t listen to him, Marmaduke! Everyone knows the hobos keep old, stale bits of food in their beards for safekeeping! Keep rooting around in there!

The Phantom, 12/1/06

I’d love to see exactly what those resumes look like. “Longtime lackey seeking situation as assistant to thuggish crime lord. Skills include simpering, dodging shoes and crockery thrown in anger, Microsoft Office. References: Unfortunately all in prison and/or incinerated.”

Slylock Fox, 12/1/06

Good lord, can’t these kids engage in a little bit of childish fun — like lowering a head-sized slice of cake down from a treehouse — without every carbon-based form of life in the neighborhood staring at them with blank, expressionless faces? I’d be pretty creeped out if I were them. The dude with his nose over the top of the fence is particularly disturbing.

Crankshaft, 12/1/06

Crankshaft proves that, like its sister strip Funky Winkerbean, it too can bring the gut-churning bleakness. I love the expressions in the second panel: Everyone, particularly the young alterna-teen, seems angry and humiliated by the ‘shaft’s antics, and the old coot’s own face indicates that he’s all too aware that his own family mainly sees him as an embarrassment. This should be a fun dinner. The only bright spot is the hostess, who appears to have been charmed Crankshaft’s little joke. Maybe this is the first time she’s heard it, which means that she’s probably been working there for less than forty-five minutes.