Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

Yes, that third panel was missing in the original strip!

June Morgan is in excellent form (even without showing it all off in a teeny bikini) as her house-breaking, lolly-gagging cousin appears to be on the fast track for a serious butt-kicking.  Rex is just along for the ride (as is usually the case), but what a ride it’s going to be!

And you know?  Maybe Rex is just a lot smarter (in a strong, silent) way than most of us give him credit for:

NAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

So we’ve got Wilbur Weston’s mysterious “illegitimate son” going to meet his father.  Too bad a mustachioed cab driver drove (heh) several Comics Curminions to bad memories of the most famous mustachioed Santa Royalian of them all!

Sort of like that Christmas ghost story that English dude Dickens wrote, huh?

Over in the Big Apple, Margo’s parents (who never married — yeah, Margo’s a bastard, too, as if that weren’t apparent) are cozying up during the holidays, and her dad Martin presents her mom with ruby earrings. Or something:

And CC’s own bourbon babe, unbuckled paid tribute to Mark Trail’s daring assault on Otis P. Cornpone, Sheriff of the Law in Backwater County, in an attempt to save Rusty before the tide came in or he was eaten by crabs or pelicans or sand fleas:

(As sung by Mark Trail)

I punched the sheriff
But I didn’t punch the deputy, oh no!
I punched the sheriff
But I didn’t punch the deputy,
Yeah! All around in this beach town,
They’re trying to track me down;
They say they want to bring me in guilty
For the punching of a deputy,
For the nose of a deputy.
But I say:

I punched the sheriff.
But I swear it was for Rusty’s sake.
Where was the deputy?
I say: I punched the sheriff,
And I hope that Rusty’s still awake.

Of course, heartfelt lyrics like that absolutely demand chorus of backup singers.  Suitably cute (so Mark doesn’t feel obliged to punch them, too):

The Holidays are a WHIRLWIND!!!

Wow, has the year flown by!  It seems like it was only yesterday (or a quick check through the Archives) that we were celebrating at Chateau Morgan ( http://snarkitupfuzzball.nexiliscom.com/?p=1631 )!  We’re still there, in fact!

Fortunately, the Morgans are the socially-climbing couple that doesn’t see the need to invite the comic strip riff-raff to their sexy sexy soirees, leaving them to indulge in ways that comic strip riff-raff is wont to do:

…and it looks like Jeff and Adrian have already been hitting the spiked eggnog/’ludes/hashish.  Then again, if you spend the holidays with Mary Worth, anything to get through them is worth a try:

Jeff looks particularly loopy, either stoned or giddy with the realization after years and years of keeping company with Mary, they’ve never tied the knot — they’re NOT married.  NOT family.  The good doctor is delirious at the thought!

I’m pretty sure I’ve used “I know these things.” when it comes to alternative dialog for Rex Morgan, because like some doctors, Rex has bought into the physicians-sitting-comfortably-somewhere-between-God-and-His-angels malarkey absolutely 100%.

The 20 December 2009 Rex Morgan strip is golden.  The Morgans have just returned from the Odyssey (aka, a three-day Caribbean cruise) to find a slobby cousin of June’s parked in their house, messing up the place and on the phone at all hours.  It’s the making for some fun, and there’s a number of funny lines, thanks to Rex.  One that stands out, strangely enough:

Oh my gosh! Have I been channeling Woody Wilson and/or Rex Morgan unknowingly?  The evidence, starting with a very early mashup:

Real medical advice from the Good Doctor:

And apparently it’s genetic (scarily enough, this is another Woody Wilson line verbatim):

Eerie similarity? Sheer coincidence? You decide!

I’m not sure about this one.  I had an inkling about two current storylines because of their similar themes sometime while I was in Las Vegas , but I don’t know if this is what I was going for.  I didn’t have PhotoShop available at the time, and yes, IT WAS THE BOOZE, okay?!

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that a “women in prison” plot isn’t really that interesting, and a “nature writer in prison” is ever less so.  *sigh*

Unlike mopey old Stripey-Butt, however, when Mark sees a problem, he acts on it! Go, Mark, GO!

Apparently, there is the occasional time when Mark comes through (sorry, not for you, Rusty):

The past week’s Funky Winkerbean has to do with the high school stigma of not only knowing show tunes, but singing them aloud on school grounds.  I’m not sure where this is going (to hell in a handcart most likely, given the setting), but the singing kid can take some shuddering cold comfort in that a few folks might appreciate his talent: