Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

They’re still farting around with that darn “Rex Morgan, Cabin Boy” plot!  And to make matters worse, Lenore has plans for the Becky Sue that suggest Rex Morgan’s days as Cabin Boy are far from over!

There’s also been more than a little bit of commentary over at the Comics Curmudgeon about little Sarah Morgan, and who she resembles.  I think gnome de blog hit the proverbial dwarf nail on the head:

My take?  I think the exceptional serial comics artists like those for Judge Parker and Rex Morgan should skip drawing kids at all costs and stick to busty dames and ripped (if goofball) hunks of manhood. (Note that I said nothing about Mary Worth…)

A couple of days later Update: I’m standing by my serial-comics-shouldn’t-deal-with-kids views.  I’m hoping that my opinions might rub off on some folks, and perhaps it has…

It’s bad enough when Mary Worth goes to bat for some figure-skating diva, trying to educate the petulant, self-serving coach-father in the wise ways of drawing the best out of his charge, only to have her best-laid plans scuttled.

Damned, inconsiderate kids.

AKA, “Don’t feed me straight lines, Jeffy.”

It was about 18 months ago when I mashed it up for the first time.  And yet love is… persists, like warts. Unchanged. And as creepy as ever.

Well, fine.  Two can play at this game.  Looks like someone got tired of his little prepubescent girl-friend….

…the last time around.

Okay, okay, we get it. Lenore and Ollie kiss (ew) and make up.

Isn’t it about time Rex and June pack for their upcoming Caribbean Adventure?

And the pace is still glacial. (Well, these are Old Folks, and it’s not like Judge Parker, Mark Trail, or Mary Worth are breaking into sprints…)

And here’s Sunday.  Okay, okay, okay. Lenore and Ollie live cantankerously ever after (which is about six weeks). Fine. Can we move on now? Heck, I’ll even do a new logo. Please.

Well, hmmm.  Maybe a new story after Veterans’ Day.  I don’t think I can take it if this is played out (as if it isn’t already) until after next Sunday…

…anyone can speak the Bandar tongue.

I think that might be an Old Jungle Saying.

…doesn’t mean that you can’t be innundated by public-service announcements.

Or more important, juvenile humor. (The “floofer” issue was commented upon by two Canadians over at the Comics Curmudgeon within moments of one another, which makes the possibility of there really being a Terence and Philip chilling.)

No, really, I do this because I’d really been anticipating a much more exciting ending to this plot.  Sigh.  Even the post-Regatta orgy doesn’t sound like so much now.

Mark your calendars and set your alarm clocks!

(Not to be confused with All Souls’ Day on November 2, which is sorta like a religious Festivus, for the Rest of Us.)

Time to reach into the old comic strip stash and come up with a Mass card for the Comics Hagiography:

I guess one of these days I’ll have to come up with a male saint.  Suggestions are cheerfully entertained (and no, Sam Driver, Mark Trail, and Rex Morgan cannot be considered “virgin saints.”  No.).