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Mary Worth, 1/21/22

Look, would we all be happier if Wilbur were dead? Absolutely. But, things being as they are, can we at least look forward to watching him try and repeatedly fail to climb a palm tree, with increasing desperation every time? Yes, yes we can. And remember, even if he manages to succeed, he’s just going to end up with a coconut. There is absolutely no way he will be able to open that coconut.

Crankshaft, 1/21/22

“Wow,” thought Pam. “He’s been talking about it for years but he finally did it. He finally figured out where to score weed.”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/21/22

“Look, Kelly, I really don’t care about whatever frivolous artwork Rene collected. I just need you to say, clearly and for the record, that absence of evidence is the same thing is evidence of absence. You can do that, right? And you can do it under oath?”

Pluggers, 1/21/22

Oh, ha ha, just a plugger spending a dull Friday night listening to the police scanner. Say, I wonder a what code “10-45” means, let’s check on the old Google to fin–

AHHH

AHHH

OH MY GOD

IT’S ONE OF HIS FRIENDS

HIS DEAD FRIENDS

THE COPS ARE CALLING FOR BACKUP BECAUSE THIS BLOATED MAN-ANIMAL CORPSE IS SO VERY DISGUSTING THAT THEY CAN’T HANDLE IT

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Marvin, 1/20/22

Today’s Marvin is a good Rorschach test for readers. Where did your mind go immediately after reading this? Are you a pedant who looked up when “Who Let The Dogs Out” was released in an attempt to try to figure out the question of how old Jenny and Jeff are (it climbed the charts in mid-2000, meaning they’ve gotta be in their late 30/early 40s, unless Jeff put the song in a mix “ironically” after the fad had faded)? Or are you a pervert, who assumed that Jeff played “Who Let The Dogs Out” on their honeymoon, during sex, to his wife’s horror? Because my brain is so quick to go to the worst possible places, I sadly fall into both categories.

Crock, 1/20/22

I guess the joke here is that smoke signals, a primitive method of long-distance communication, have been “hit with a virus,” just like a high-tech computer might be, but obviously that’s only a conclusion you would draw if you are, like me, cursed to read the daily comics and attempt to figure out what’s actually going on with them. I assume most people would instead take the more obvious reading, which is that the Lost Patrol are all dying of some terrible disease.

Mary Worth, 1/20/22

Sorry, Wilbur has only one panel to spare on self-reflection as to how he ended up in his current predicament. Now he’s got to move ahead and deal with more important questions, like where on this island he can find sandwiches, or, if they’re not available, cold cuts and condiments he can use to make sandwiches.

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/19/22

Well, it looks like Rex has only one chance to stave off total financial annihilation in the Case Of The Intellectual Property Violation That Sarah Definitely Did: get Kelly, who served as Sarah’s minder when Sarah first saw the adorable characters she later viciously stole, to lie on the stand about it. The problem: that’s a job for sassy, give-no-fucks Kelly, not dull, goody-goody narc Kelly, but part of giving no fucks means not bothering to go spend a day in a boring-ass courtroom to help anyone else. Rex needs to thread the needle to achieve the perfect balance between the Kelly’s yin and yang, but what looks like the beginning of an eye roll in panel two seems to say that she’s already slipping out of his grasp.

The Lockhorns, 1/19/22

Oh, by the way, it seems that Leroy Lockhorn has finally figured out how to escape his nagging wife: by uploading his mind to the Internet and becoming a being of pure thought. And you know what? Good for him.