Mary Worth: Erotica in Plain Sight by Shandyowl
For nearly 70 years Mary Worth has been polarising opinion among her comic’s readership. Many take her at face-value as a well-meaning widow who is always willing to help others and who dishes up advice as readily as she serves up her succulent tuna casserole. Others wonder whether she is, in fact, a Machiavellian evil genius, plotting chaos and misery in order to advance her own agenda. Each piece of advice seems helpful and benevolent on its own, but when you look at the overall pattern and the interconnecting mesh of consequences that arise through others following her advice, it is easy to see Mary as a puppet-master, secretly manipulating all around her, flourishing and feeding upon the misery and despair she causes.
Whichever view you subscribe to, this outmoded two-valued Aristotelian way of thinking has been blinding us to the truth. Look more closely. Read between the lines. Think of what is happening in the frames that remain un-drawn and you will realise that not only is the real story in what is not shown but also that the story of Mary Worth is an unflinchingly sexual tale.
The back-story
Mary’s late husband invested wisely on her behalf. He was sufficiently astute to realise that not only does sex sell, but that it always sells, no matter what the prevailing economic conditions. Thus Mary now has a portfolio of investments containing everything from webcam sex-chat internet sites to legalised brothels in Nevada, not to mention a majority shareholding in influential, respected and trend-setting women’s glossy Vagina Popcorn.
The story threads and dialogue may constantly refer to love and romance, but this terminology is employed merely to preserve the family-friendly status of the strip in daily newspapers. In the same way that soccer is all about getting into the box and shooting, Mary Worth is all about sex. Like most erotica, it leaves the details to the reader’s imagination. The strip never strays beyond the bounds of good taste, but it is a situation similar to visiting your parents for dinner: while you are there everything is polite and well mannered, but you know that they are fucking when you aren’t around.
The down and dirty
The Charterstone Condominium poolside parties are a case in point. The strip shows everybody standing around and chatting amiably, enjoying a drink and a bite to eat, and then jumps forward a day or two later when the characters talk about what a great party it was. What we don’t see is the party itself, where every resident of Charterstone and their friends get drunk and stoned, then fuck each other in every orifice with every appendage and utensil that they can lay hands on.
The characters are usually shown from the waist up. This is not for reasons of artistic style. Rather, it is a matter of practicality necessitated by the fact that they are naked below the waist. Even while they are having earnest discussions about how to help a lovelorn acquaintance, Mary and her friends are in all likelihood being fellated below-frame. It is a safe bet for the reader to assume that, unless explicitly shown to be fully clothed, the characters are engaged in some form of sexual activity. Anybody invited to a coffee morning at Charterstone soon discovers what glass-topped coffee tables are really for.
Vera
Following her break-up with Dr. Drew, Vera spoke of how he taught her how to really look at the night sky and said that part of her would miss him even though she knew that splitting up was the right thing to do. This is exactly the kind of obscure euphemism that children and other innocent readers may happily take at face value. Doubtless her turn of phrase is somewhat less poetic when she is in a bar with her friends and she tells them, “I ditched him because he’s a self-centred jerk, a real ass-clown just like his morphine-addict father, but he was a great fuck. Seriously, he made me come so hard I could see stars. I mean, you all know I’ve been with a lot of guys, but Jill, not even your husband is that good in the sack!”
Wilbur
When Wilbur Weston calls to say that he can’t go to the theatre with the rest of the gang, what he really means is that his daughter Dawn is staying over at her friend Cathy’s place, so he is taking the opportunity to put some cable-porn on the HDTV. While the others are pretending not to be bored by Shakespeare, Wilbur is crushing nettles against his penis so that the stings will cause muscle spasms and bring forth a mighty and satisfying ejaculation. In the meantime, Dawn is lying about staying with Cathy because she is secretly working at a rub ‘n’ tug where most of her college professors are regular visitors.
Toby and Professor Ian Cameron
Mary’s best friend, the thirty-something Toby, is married to the much older Professor Ian Cameron. Professor Cameron sports a beard, yet has no moustache. This is an unequivocal statement that he has made a life-choice, an unyielding and uncompromising commitment to being an asshole right up until the moment he draws his last breath. It is also symptomatic of severe erectile dysfunction, the facial hair masking the condition by guaranteeing that nobody will ever attempt to have sex with him. Toby is known to “specialise in miniatures,” a fact that can only lead readers to speculate as to the true size of her husband’s manhood. Her penchant for amphetamine-fuelled sex must be putting an undue strain on the old man’s heart and when he dies in flagrante delicto (Latin for “in mid-fuck”) it will be interesting to learn whether Toby has taken out a suspiciously large life insurance policy on him.
Doctors Drew and Adrian Cory
Dr. Jeff Cory’s children, Dr. Drew Cory and his sister Dr. Adrian Cory, run the family clinic with the semi-retired Dr. Jeff helping out as required. It is no surprise that both Cory children are doctors, as they have both displayed a keen interest in human anatomy since high school, and most particularly in each other’s. Many believe that it was the discovery of their passionate incestuous affair that led their mother to commit suicide, and it also seems likely to be the real reason that neither of them ever seem to have long-term relationships.
Mary Worth
Their Cory children’s father is Mary’s main squeeze, and in a refreshing move away from media stereotypes that insultingly insist that sex is only for the young, these two are at it like rabbits. In the current storyline, Dr. Jeff calls Mary and invites her out to dinner, but Mary takes a rain-check, telling him that she has a handsome and well-mannered male houseguest, Chester, with whom she wants to spend time. Within minutes, Jeff is barging his way into Mary’s apartment, probably hoping for a ménage a trois. He is disappointed to learn that Chester is a beagle, all the more so because his pet-allergy prevents him from trying to have sex with the dog.
Mary and Jeff argue about whether to go out for dinner, and then Jeff is wearing a completely different outfit. This indicates that we have skipped forward in time by a couple of hours, as Jeff has changed clothes following their rambunctious make-up sex. Perhaps Mary squatted over him and urinated on his other outfit; the subtlety of this erotica is such that, having indicated what has occurred, it leaves us to paint our own picture.
By the time the pair have reached the restaurant they are both in different outfits again. Once more, the writer and artist are tipping us a wink, giving us a completely unambiguous signal that Mary and Jeff have coupled again, but once more leaving the details up to us. We decide whether they were so overcome with lust that they literally tore one another’s clothes off before leaving the apartment or if they stopped off for a roadside quickie and got covered in filth rolling around in a ditch.
The Earth has a thin crust that is presented to observers to gaze upon. This crust is formed by unseen processes of broiling power, fury and incandescent heat, and Mary Worth is much the same. The urban respectability of the strip is simply a veneer that conceals the sexual torrents and upheavals that surge beneath the surface. It is no surprise to learn that director David Lynch credits Mary Worth as the inspiration behind much of his work, particularly Blue Velvet, and regrets that prurient Hollywood morals restrict him to a pale reflection of Mary’s own excesses. Indeed, his admission shows that only by going to the source shall we ever taste purity.
