Sadly, the topic of the peacock bass as an invasive species somehow got lost along the way (but I liked doing this one!).
…really, I just need some decent snarking material and/or some truly excellent inspiration from the commenters over at The Comics Curmudgeon. It’s like a tonic! (You know, that “tonic” that Mary Worth keeps behind the china for “medicinal purposes”…)
OMG! OMG! OMG! Mark’s in danger! Thanks, [Old Man] Muffaroo!
OMG! OMG! OMG! The Morgans come to the rescue! (Thanks, Brook Esia, for a definite stashing of panels for the future: “I’m pretty sure panel 3 is really an old Soviet propaganda poster about the bourgeoisie fucking up your day and not giving two shits about it.”)
OMG! OMG! OMG! Bad agent! Bad agent! No martini! Thanks, Dennis Jimenez!
Just because Family Circus was almost funny today, and because Jeffy Keane is featured as a Great Hollywood writer, here’s the connection (I can see that checkered shirt being mashed into a fabulous ascot — haven’t a clue what to do about the strangely-colored sneakers, other than they might be a pair of Dolly’s pink cast-offs):
And here’s the new-and-questionably-improved Judge Parker:
…evidently the vast majority of cartoonists did just that, absolutely phoning in old hackneyed themes of “breakfast in bed,” “homemade cards,” etc., etc.
Fortunately the serial strips forged ahead, and thank heavens for that. Incidentally, Judge Parker probably had the most subtle-but-way-way-out-there strip today, thanks to Ms. Gloria Sanchez. There was an epic Panel 4:
Which could only be matched by repeated fond meditation upon it:
In other words: BEST. MOTHER’S. DAY. STRIP. EVER!
The mysterious Monque Zatari, who went to Judge Randy’s law school (because she said so) didn’t shoot him and Sam after all. Yay — the sexxy, sexxy plot continues!
And those wacky legal types just keep up with the joshing! Good one, Sam!
Again, more than two months have elapsed since I’ve mashed Judge Parker. Oooh, some foreign guy shot. Oooh, Randy’s girlfriend implicated. Ooooh, no action, all words. Ooooh, boring!
But suddenly, Sam and Randy are joined by a mystery woman in a burka. No, just a headscarf matched with a fashionable low-cut, form-fitting dress. Good or evil? You decide!
Meanwhile, I’ve already made my decision:
Recent Judge Parker storylines have been weak (hey, the last real effort I made was back in August or September, when Abbey and Sam buying the mega-bus coincided with the possibility of their attending Burning Man). I don’t know if anything will develop this time, but here’s a nice little randy fantasy…
Poor Sophie! Trying to snag a boy by offering him an expensive guitar, when you just know his girlfriend is the epitome of what a significant number of modern high school girls are doing for their guys these days…
Well, Sam Driver is going to attempt to by emptying his pockets of loose change and buying a motor home. Me? I think this turn of events has a lot of possibilities, well, particularly if someone takes MY idea for a vacation destination…
(Yes, I love messing with Sam and Abbey, nearing as much as I love messing with Rex and June…never enough word balloons!)
I’ve consolidated a weeks’ worth of Les the AUTHOR’s publishing struggles into one tidy package. You know, whether spread out like a slick of diarrhea, or heaped into a single big, steaming pile, Les and his writing are just one giant turd.
I shouldn’t even waste my time with Batuikitksiak’s thinly-veiled wet dreams (or damp disappointments), as applied to Super-Writer Les Moore, but it’s kind of cathartic, and with the current storyline in Judge Parker winding down, Constance Darling, up-and-coming marketing director in need of a $250K salary, gotta eat! If nothing else, I like seeing the further emasculation of Les…
