Dr. Jeff Cory is coming really close to 9 Chickweed Lane‘s Seth the Gay Ballet Dancer as the Shutupshutupshut Candidate of the Week.
And yes, there IS more:
This has got to be one of the most unimaginative bridges to a new story line ever.
We make fun of Jeffy Keane (oh, come on…it’s not just me!) Maybe it isn’t all justified, since he’s supposed to be only three or four years old. I like to think that he’s merely an incredibly stupid three- or-four-year-old.
Still, there’s something poignant…
…and occasionally, he does show a flash of brillance (or at least, a tendency for self-preservation)…
Keep fighting the good fight, Jeffy!
…people pointedly ignore him.
I’d say “Don’t quit your day-job, Rex.”, but honestly, do any of us know what his day-job is?
“…giving it a rest!”.
Mary evidently is not interested in a personal electronic reading device. Then again, how silly we are to assume that the lady can’t take care of herself.
Jeff remains slow on the uptake. Glad he’s not my doctor.
And the gallant fellow he is, Jeff just keeps poking at Mary. Cripes, Cory, think of the money you’re saving NOT having to pony up for a personal electronic reading device for Mary!
Or, as Mary speculates, “That would buy a lot of batteries!”
…but here is the comix’s laziest man as the world’s laziest animal.
Is that weird, or what?
This was vaguely suggested by CC’s Rimpy (you’re off the hook for my bizarre meanderings, Rimpy :), but the panel with Luann going into a conniption fit is always good for a chuckle.
Adrian and Scott are safely married and off on their honeymoon at some dud ranch in North Santa Royale (all the real dude ranches are in Santa Royale del Norte, you know), and instead of celebrating the end of one story line with a salmon square-filled Charterstone pool party, we get a commercial for a Kindle iPad Etch-a-Sketch something that isn’t a pool party. Boo!
On the other hand, while she seems to say “no no no,” Mary’s gaze is strangely Thulsa Doomesque as Jeff extols the virtues of his…um, thing.
This all started with a Washington Post article about the difficulties of breeding giant pandas in capitivity, and the extreme measures being used to help them succeed: panda porn, sexy panda sounds, and training the females to straddle a log so as not to be squished by their bulky paramours.
Wouldn’t this be so much easier to just call the Nature Guy himself, Mark Trail? The Comics Curmudgeon’s own queek found an oldskool Sunday Mark Trail featuring pandas — there might be a clue! http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-H-t-Wz1VNU/TKHhEHDNaTI/AAAAAAAAMDk/OyKZkgWHpYc/s1600/EdDodd_MarkTrail_Panda_100.jpg
Alas not. Perhaps Mark could address the problem with a new column!
Then again, Mark’s kid is adopted.
Mark’s wife is ignored.
Mark’s closest and bestest buddy is a St. Bernard dog.
Just a hunch, but maybe the World Wildlife Fund ought to consider Mark for its new logo…
[Mostly to have fun with creepy people in the mirror. Or sitting in front of a mirror. Whatever.]