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For Better Or For Worse, 7/2/06

I admit it: In addition to being a judgmental bastard, I’m a capricious bastard. How else can you explain the fact that I found Grandpa Foob’s last sexual fantasy sequence horrifying and distasteful, while I was mildly charmed by this one? Maybe it’s because instead of hoping to be rubbed down by nubile slave girls, he’s imagining relatively innocent pursuits, like dancing at arm’s length, holding hands in the general vicinity of pert young rear ends, or sharing incredibly phallic ice cream cones. Maybe I’m impressed that he’s daring to dream about a blonde-brunette three-way, or at least about driving to one. Maybe it’s because the strip dramatically illustrates the fact that, no matter what our age, we’re always young and virile in our own minds, our chins firm and manly, with only a slight cleft pointing the way to their scrotum-like future.

Meanwhile, in Rex Morgan, M.D., Rex is wearing a kind of gay robe.

Going over my old posts, I’ve noticed a trend with me and Rex Morgan: I get all excited about every new storyline and inevitably have fun with it for the first few weeks; then suddenly the air goes out if it and I lose
interest. The last few weeks in this strip have involved a punk-haired girl killing Harry and taking over the blackmailing biz and … a partial fingerprint … and … something about arthritis … damn, I can’t even work up the energy to write a summary. But I offer Rex in his classy robe here as a reminder of happier times.

(Speaking of robes, what the hell is June wearing? At first I thought she had one of those little trays that hook over your neck, like an old-timey cigarette girl, which she was pretending to be in a desperate and doomed attempt to get Rex’s attention. But I suspect she’s just wearing a robe festooned with the exact same cheesy pattern as the top underneath it. More troubling is the hand at the bottom of the frame, which appears to be protruding from her torso.)

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The Phantom, 7/1/06

“What’s he up to?” Well, if I had to guess, O Ghost Who Overthinks Things, I’d have to say that he’s planning to get into his helicopter gunship and machine-gun you to death from the air, where you can’t punch him. He’s just narrating his schemes aloud like any other comic-book villain; there’s no reason to dig deeper.

What exactly his that weird flap of skin between Chatu’s left arm and ripped torso? Did he lose a lot of weight recently? Is this whole escapade an attempt to get enough cash to afford cosmetic surgery?

Spider-Man, 7/1/06

First, Spidey accuses Narna of attempted murder. Now he’s downgraded his suspicions to vandalism. Pretty soon he’s going to battle her to stop her from thinking negative thoughts about his wife.

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Mary Worth, 6/30/06

You’d think that with all the years he’s spent trying to get into Mary’s comfortable slacks, Jeff would be better at translating Passive-Aggresive into English by now. Clearly, when it comes out of the mouth of someone who views going downtown as some sort of journey into the heart of darkness, the phrase “I wish I could join you on your trip” really means “Thank God I’m not going with you to whatever cholera-ridden Oriental hellhole you’ve decided to throw your life away in.” When a childless retiree who has nothing better to do than meddle in the extremely piddling affairs of others tells a doctor who’s taking time off from his lucrative practice to help children in Cambodia that she has “responsibilities,” that’s just cold.

I’m not sure where exactly Mary and Jeff are driving around having this little chat, but clearly the first “responsibility” that Mary has to attend to is to convince the youth of Santa Royale to stop growing little beatnik beards and tuck their damn shirts in.

Crankshaft, 6/30/06

Meanwhile, Crankshaft appears to be about death and farting.

Sally Forth, 6/30/06

Sally Forth is blatantly about hot, hot hammock sex.

Mark Trail, 6/30/06

And in Mark Trail, somebody’s about to get eaten by a bear. Why is it that I find this hilarious in Mark Trail but not in Gasoline Alley? I dunno, man, but I sure do.