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Rex Morgan, M.D., 12/20/05

Wow, how much do I not find the current Rex Morgan, M.D. storyline interesting? A lot. I find it a lot not interesting. I’m not even going to bother summarizing Scrap Iron Jack’s boring quest for a good poker game, which seems to have occupied the last umpteen weeks. I do have to say that our one-eyed vet’s sweaty brow and vibrating head don’t really match up with what I understand to be the typical symptoms of compulsive gambling. He’s looking for Texas Hold ‘Em, not smack. Unless this is about the painkiller subplot that was dropped like a hot potato towards the beginning of this tedious slog, I’m unimpressed.

Anyway, the only reason I find this comic worthy of mention is the coif on our fetching bartender here (you probably can’t read it in this low-res graphic no matter how much you stare at her ample bosom, but her name tag indicates that she’s “Iris”). It’s shiny. Very, very shiny. Why is it shiny? How is it shiny? Is the answer to either question related to her daring decision to wear black lipstick to work? It’s the answers to these questions that Rex Morgan, M.D. should be tracking down, but Iris will no doubt be long forgotten by the time Jack gets to his first Gamblers Anonymous meeting sometime in 2009.

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Hagar the Horrible, 12/19/05

OK, let’s leave aside the fact that Hagar and Lucky Eddie are Odin-revering pagans and wouldn’t care about this so-called “Christmas” anyway. They could still have themselves a rockin’ solstice party on their boat. A little yule-log worship, a lot of mead, and then some savage pillaging of northern France, burning scores of villages to the ground, killing the men and enslaving the women and children. Should be a hoot!

Mainly, this comic struck me because it’s further proof that major comics artists are stealing my thoughts. Think I’m a paranoid loon? Well, read this article in today’s Baltimore Sun and then decide for yourself. But if you want to see a picture of me in my robe, or of a faithful reader of this blog wearing a lampshade for a hat, you’ll have to go out and lay your hands on a physical copy of the paper. (It’s not too late, Baltimore-area folks!)

Update: Hmm, since last I looked, they’ve added pictures to the online story, so save your 50 cents. (You’re really not going to understand what I’m talking about without looking at it now, so click the link, I beg of you.)

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Family Circus, 12/18/05

There’s all sorts of interesting things to say theologically about Sunday’s Family Circus, like about how different manifestations of God fulfill different needs within the human soul, or how monotheistic religions gradually develop an array of more accessible intercessor figures, and blah blah blah. Mostly what I want to point out about this comic is HOLY CRAP GOD’S THRONE IS FRICKIN’ SWEET. Seriously, I want one of those in my house in front of the TV. Though it doesn’t look all that comfortable, seeing as He appears to not be sitting on His Throne so much as standing in His Celestial Witness Box. But still, it’s pimped out. I could do with the mobs of pygmy-sized seraphim singing my praises, too, while I just lean back with my palms extended soaking it all up.

Several people wrote to me claiming that the blinged-out golden G at the top of this piece of omnipotent furniture indicates that God Almighty is a Green Bay Packers fan. Bite your tongue! Green Bay may be one of the oldest teams in the NFL, but God, and presumably His Throne, have existed since before time began, so a certain midwestern football team should just consider itself lucky that it hasn’t heard from the divine legal department regarding trademark infringement. However, the fact that this particular initial adorns the Heavenly Chair confirms what we here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. have known for years, which is that God speaks English.

Note that God’s radiance is very similar to Margo’s. The theological implications of that are frankly way too disturbing for me to dwell on.