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Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/18/25

The chronology of this Rex Morgan storyline flashback has now looped back around to the point where the beat cop who’s been summoned to deal with this inconvenient corpse is like, “Hmm, wouldn’t it be nice if I could successfully pin this on literally the first person I talk to, even if it is the guy who called it in to begin with,” and The Stalker Strangler: The Man Who Only Strangles Stalkers doesn’t like what he’s hearing. This was probably his first strangle, and he’s only now coming face-to-face with the dilemma of performing high-profile acts of righteous but legally unsanctioned vengeance: on the one hand, you don’t want to get caught, because you want to have more strangling opportunities, but on the other, you put all the work into strangling a stalker and then some other guy is going to get credit for it? Doesn’t seem fair, really.

Heathcliff, 4/18/25

I refer to our cats, who are both well into cat middle age, as “babies,” but that’s because they are not bipedal sapient comic strip cats but rather real-life cats who, like human babies, are tiny and cuddly and pretty stupid. The question of “is Heathcliff an adult” is complex, but the fact that he has a steady girlfriend and needs ED drugs in order to have sex with her is a good sign that he should be thought of as one, and thus today’s strip, in which his human companions have dressed him as a baby, taken him in an old-timey pram to the city dump and its vast open field piled high with undifferentiated brownish slurry, and declared that “it’s baby’s feeding time” while he eagerly licks his lips, is what we in the biz call “real sicko shit.”

Crankshaft, 4/18/25

Not much to say here about yet another Crankshaft word-mangling bit, though I do enjoy learning that Ed finds the daily grind of his existence disappointing. Mostly I want to point out the very purposeful way the waitress is striding away from the gang in panel two, probably because one of them said something really off-putting.

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Dustin, 4/17/25

Really loving Dustin’s facial expression in the second panel here. “Ah,” he’s thinking, “he doesn’t love her either. He may hate her as much as he hates me. It’s not great, but it’s kind of satisfying to know, honestly.”

Mary Worth, 4/17/25

Dawn’s face in panel two here is almost as good. That’s the face of a college student who is absolutely going to choke down the soggy, room-temperature sandwich she’s been carrying around in her backpack all day, just to spite the woman who was loudly fucking her dad most of the previous evening. The fact that she’ll save herself from being poisoned is just a bonus, assuming she wouldn’t prefer a quick death to enduring the rest of Belle’s visit.

Marvin, 4/17/25

This isn’t really about facial expressions, just about how Bitsy the dog is infested with parasites and that makes him an outcast from dog society. His facial expression in panel two, as he contemplates the fact that everyone is disgusted by him, is kind of poignant, I guess.

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Archie, 4/16/25

I can’t even keep track anymore of when these Archie reruns originated, and whether the coloring actually dates from that era or was added in years or decades later. All I know is that Mr. Weatherbee with his black shirt and bright red tie looks like he’s the keyboardist from some new wave band that had a cult following in clubs in the Lower East Side in the late ’70s and early ’80s before having an unexpected MTV hit with a semi-novelty song in 1984, and then their label made them do a big national tour and they wanted to play all the songs they’d written and that their real fans loved but all the dumb MTV teens who came to their shows just wanted them to play their big hit, which they had kind of grown to loathe at that point, and eventually the keyboardist snapped and started attacking the MTV teens with hammers.

Hagar the Horrible, 4/16/25

Imagine this scenario: a Viking band descends on a ducal castle somewhere on the coast of Normandy or the Low Countries. The Duke’s retinue is defeated in combat, his wealth plundered, his family slain. His army has been decimated, meaning he can no longer enforce his rule on the local peasants, so his few remaining soldiers drift away, demoralized and unpaid, leaving him alone in his ruined castle, burning for revenge. Eventually he abandons his fief altogether and buys passage with what little wealth he has left on a boat heading to the savage northern lands. Traveling alone with just his sword, he hunts down the chieftain whose attack upended his whole privileged life, determined to kill him and reclaim whatever goods he can, only to eventually discover him living in a modest hut and holding what remains of the duke’s treasure in contempt. Pretty grim stuff! I never saw The Northman, but I’m going to pretend this is what it was about.