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

Now, there’s no denying it: we’ve all had some fun with Rex Morgan, M.D. over the past few weeks, with the “twosomes” and “ball whacking” and the “plenty of extra balls” and what have you. But I for one realized today that I’ve been distracted by three weeks of giggle-inducing double entendres from a grim, shocking fact: the current Rex Morgan, M.D. storyline appears to be about two doctors playing golf. No wounded war vets. No mysterious human bones. No demented old ladies abusing children. Just … golf. Wealthy white men playing golf. I feel kind of empty inside. I don’t think even Rex getting blown on the seventh hole is going to make me feel any better.

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Marvin, 3/11/06

So, when I last was following Marvin on anything resembling a regular basis, it was about a baby and his sarcastic thought balloons. Now I’ve picked it up again years later, and it also appears to be about dogs and their sarcastic thought balloons. What is it about cartoonists and adorable pets and their inner thoughts? I turn to Marvin for baby thought action, damn it. The fact that the babies and dogs can understand one another’s thoughts is an even more disturbing development.

By the way, here’s a lesson for you childless types that I learned the hard way yesterday: if someone tells you an adorable anecdote about their toddler, and you counter with a very similar anecdote about your pet, the parent will not be pleased. Take my word for it.

Anyway, this particular cartoon about the travails of doggie love is deeply incomprehensible to me. There’s an Irish wolfhound that lives in my neighborhood, and it’s roughly the size of a deer; I don’t want to sound prejudiced against interracial love, but the logistics of the dating situation described seem next to impossible if things were to go beyond platonic. Next: armpit hair? Buh? Is this a joke about Irish people (or Europeans, or “foreigners” in general) not shaving their armpits? Is the joke supposed to be that no dog shaves his or her armpits, so Duke is just plain crazy? If so, why bring the freakishly oversized Irish wolfhound up at all? Are Duke’s crossed eyes supposed to be the Universal Comics Symbol for Crazy? Or do they work in conjunction with the tongue to represent Being Grossed Out? The more I think about it, the more I resent it all.

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Family Circus, 3/10/06

Actually, Dolly, it’s a little known fact that the Pope is named after the eggs. Yes, in an attempt to shore up flagging membership numbers, all future pontiffs will be named after breakfast foods that are determined via focus groups to be widely perceived as delicious. Look for future conclaves to elect Pope Oatmeal, Pope Shredded Wheat, Pope Scrapple, and, in a partnership that will see the CEO of Denny’s appointed to the College of Cardinals, Pope Moons Over My Hammy®.

OK, seriously: B-16 (as I have been trying to get people to call him, to little avail) has been pope for less than a year, and I think this is the second or third “benedict” pun the Family Circus has done. Are the Keanes on the payroll of Opus Dei all of the sudden? Because I think that they could be spending their money more wisely.