Oh, Jeffy, you hapless little melon-head!
…or one small psychotic cat!
[I don’t know why I’m doing so many mash-ups the last few days. I guess spending five days at an S.C.A. event, followed by several more of paperwork having to do with the event, has me really jonesing for PhotoShop. I wonder if there’s an AA equivalent. Or if I can get money for being a poster child or something…]
And lest anyone think otherwise, Mark Trail doesn’t just ball up his fists and punch. Violence is not the first option, or the second. Mark examines the evidence, considers implications, suggests alternatives, investigates solutions…
…and then he punches somebody.
[I loved the 21 and 23 February panels. While Mark is very likely agreeing with Forest Service Same about the sorry state of the economy, his brusque responses immediately caught me as something to the effect of “Ask me if I care.”, and “Oh, boo hoo — cry me a river, Sam.”.]
True Fable over at CC did a marvelous rant of Brooke McE.’s continuing, cutesy, boring fixation on young lust, with double entendres which are evidently supposed to rival Noel Coward and/or Cole Porter.
Uh-uh.
Edda and Amos might be gosh-darn genius kids, graduating high school early, attending Julliard, traveling to Belgium to compete in world championship cello play-offs. But you know, you can be too droll, too waggish, too obtuse, too lifetime-subscription-to-The-New-Yorker. Sometimes you just have to call a spade a spade, and a phallus a…
…well, whatever.
[I have to admit that I was seriously tickled and touched by CC Rusty’s comment about it “I would read this strip every day”. Awwww, shucks…that is so sweet! Thanks, Rusty!]
Why on earth do we continue to follow Judge Parker? While there are occasional glitters and glimmers of pulchritude (sexy legal secretary Gloria; sexy Scottsdale homicide detective Heidi; sexy (but dead) pole-dancer and murderer Dixie Julep), the one thing that keeps the attention riveted and the juices flowing is….
Abbey Spencer!
Abbey in a bathrobe.
Abbey in Daisy Dukes.
Abbey in a riding outfit.
Abbey in a flannel shirt.
Abbey with her hand up a nice chicken.
Abbey in a black strapless number.
Yeah, like I was going to say Sam Driver (nice body, but not shown off enough).
The current story line focuses on Alan Parker’s retirement, Randy Parker’s investiture as the new Judge Parker, Sam Driver’s reluctant acceptance to be Alan’s book agent and Abbey Spencer grinding around the celebration in the aforementioned black strapless number. Only there’s not enough of the last option, so here’s more:
As if June weren’t having enough problems with Rex scaring the bejabbers out of her with this Norwalk talk, here comes Agnes Dunsmore! Not a pretty sight, first thing in the morning and all…
There’s little better on the comics page when a couple of panels (particularly in the “serious” strips) just sets up the snark so perfectly.
I haven’t been paying much attention to The Phantom‘s Crocco Caper, but the 19 February strip is great. Panels 2 and 3 here are untouched, which invites all sorts of smart-ass replies. Then again, it might just be a rhetorical question.
Mrs. Funky? While we’re laying all of our cards out on the table, let’s just call a spade a spade.
As in the Golden Age of the great sailing ships, physicians play an invaluable role in the well-being of their crew.
At least until Rex Morgan comes aboard.
And, yes, we’re going to devolve, more quickly than slowly, into the realm of poop humor.
Meanwhile in Lost Forest, Ken Brillohead, Lumberjack with Issues, terrorizes his wife Patty and threatens to shoot her pet deer. Unfortunately, he does own a closetful of guns, so he could make good on the threat.
A friendly piece of advice, Ken: Judge Parker’s literary agent, Dewey Cheatem, had a closetful of guns, too. Do you know where Dewey is, Ken? That’s right, on a slab in the Scottsdale morgue!
I don’t even think Lost Forest has a morgue:
I have to admit, I could give a rat’s patoot (or a venison burger with seasoned curly fries) as to what happens to Bucky (the deer, not the cat). But now we’ve crossed into Extreme Close-up Territory (aka, ECT), and that’s always a winner!
Rex Morgan, M.D., has been alerted to a medical emergency!
Off he goes like the wind!
Something exciting is bound to happen soon!
(“soon” being about 10 days in the Rex Morgan universe…)
Of course, medical emergencies are never simple:
