All right, I’m going to repeat myself here, just because I think this distills the true essence of Andy, and all dogs. If Mark Trail really were a nature strip, the basic doggyness of the canine clan would be put right out there, upfront and unashamed! (Right, Andy? Who’s a good boy? Do you want to run and get help? Do you want to fly the plane? Do you want to win the Nobel Peace Prize?)
Where does the time go? A massive tip o’ the sombrero to the clairvoyant Dean Booth from CC!
After the last few weeks of Mary Worth’s pontificatin’ and platitudizin’, I feel like I’ve been in a bomb shelter. Is this particular story arc (such as it is) over? Is the radiation level at an acceptable level?
I couldn’t get really worked up over this, but here are a few attempts in response to little Mary’s dreadful upbringing, having Mother Hubbard as a parent (I’m pleased with my little salute to Spring, even if Mary said nothing about it — rather like the Foobiverse missing April’s birthday (geez, birthdays are important to teens!) and suddenly being confronted with the possibility of being touched by another human being!
…particularly if we’re talking about Sam Driver. Does he ever start?
I really enjoyed doing these. As a rule, I have no clear idea where a snark strip is going to go (that might be painfully obvious, I dunno), but if the illustrations look tempting, I’ll give things a try. My gosh, how can you resist Sam’s face and his stretching? I’ll bet Gloria is one of those people at family reunions who always ruins a group photo by closing her &#*#& eyes, too! Every. single. time!
It doesn’t hurt that so many clever comments are made at CC that it can be pretty easy to follow a lead or a turn of phrase. I try to credit folks who have inspired a post, and if I miss someone, I apologize.
The morning orientation. Of course Rex is at the hospital; I think there’s a law or something that prohibits the use of that shade of green in any environment other than a medical one. You’d think the cafeteria would be spared of having to use it…
What are the odds that the same day (31 March 2008) will feature Dick Tracy hanging out of the belly of an antique Chinese horse statue (no, I don’t know why) AND Elly Patterson yammering on about wanting to relinquish the reins while still owning the horses (it’s a control issue, I’m sure of it)?
If this day was candy, it would be a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, a delightful combination of peanut butter and chocolate…mmmmmm.
And yes, the stalward detective was hanging out of the belly of the beast; things have shifted a bit here.
Who is Count Morgu? My attention span, or observational skills, or something, is so short that I can’t remember the last time I found all the differences in one of Slylock Fox’s “find the six changes” puzzles. While I didn’t note that some off-center framing in a Rex Morgan strip had rendered the “County Morgue” sign on the door to “Count Morgu,” I did notice that the county health inspector/medical examiner/ coroner was a pretty creepy-looking fellow. Maybe that’s just comes with the territory, when you’re hanging around corpses and body bags and trocars. Still, the Goth chick on NCIS is pretty hot, and she hangs around with all that stuff…
Anyway, someone at CC started referring to Andy as Count Morgu. And hey, in a lot of circumstances, soap comics can use all the help they can get. If it’s in the form of a vampire…cool!
A new story arc is starting with my favorite physician, and as is usually the case, these things ramp up slowly. I will have you know that I stuck in MRSA as one of June’s guesses before it was mentioned! (Yay, me – incredible Karnak abilities!)
I don’t think the scariest thing about all of this will be MRSA, but all of the damned coffee everyone is drinking, all the time.
Having a (more often than not random) quotation scrawled across Mary Worth airspace is bad enough, but one Sunday there were TWO! of them! Good heavens! I had to retaliate! Mary might have a copy of Bartlett’s, but I’ve got the whole internet! Bwahahahaha!
Can you pick out Mary’s platitudes of the day?
I know, I know. There was some faint, dark fantasy in all of us that somehow we’d be spared from Mary’s incessant platitudes, by any means possible. Only Mary is stronger than us all.
