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Mark Trail
Mark Trail, 2/9/10
OH, SNAP! The physical assault has begun in Mark Trail, and, since I didn’t cheat by reading ahead with These Strange Worlds, I’m actually pretty shocked that the initial perpetrator is not Joe (or possibly Moe) Parker, but rather this distinguished-looking senator, who isn’t so distinguished that he can’t slap an angry lake-bully with his pimp hand when he gets his dander up. Now, um, maybe this is how elected officials ran constituent services back in the ’70s, but I rather think that this was a poor tactical move on the senator’s part. Surely Moe (or possibly Joe) will be on Fox and/or MSNBC (depending the senator’s political affiliation) in short order, dishing up dirt, and blogs will be falling over each other to come up with “heavy handed” puns. At least there aren’t any cameras around to put the YouTube clip into heavy rotation.
Family Circus, 2/9/10
Once again, you’ve underestimated your brother’s idiocy, Dolly, as he’s actually brushed his teeth with peanut butter. You can see that he’s trying to come up with some retort, but hasn’t been able to pry his jaws apart yet.
Hi and Lois, 2/9/10
I kind of like Lois’s stunned expression; it implies that Chip just let loose with a blues number expressing a deep, existential sadness, the sort of dark, powerful emotion that his mother never even imagined possible, let alone that it might reside in her teenage son. Trixie, as ever, can think of nothing but shitting herself.
Hagar the Horrible, 2/9/10
“That’s because, after days being left hanging here, my shoulders have been terribly dislocated and will never heal properly! I’ll won’t be able to move my arms comfortably again for as long as I live! Ha ha, torture, amiright?”
Mark Trail, 2/6/10
I may have missed this earlier, but it appears that the hilariously surnamed Parker brothers are hilariously named Moe and Joe. What whimsical parents they must have had, to give them rhyming names! Clearly the only way they had to rebel against their twee upbringing was to grow facial hair and generally dick it up out on the lake, with their big motors. Still, we can see a bit of their wacky heritage out on display in the rapid-fire shirt exchange they made between panels one and two, just for absurdist fun. Mark and Senator Hatcher just stand there with their hands manfully on their hips, their low-key masculinity offering a counterpoint to their desperate antics
In panel three, Joe, or possibly Moe, shows that he’s well acquainted with the most up-to-date way to effect political change, which is to buttonhole one of your elected officials and scream at him.
For Better For Worse, 2/6/10
FBOFW reruns are like comics methadone: not as good as the real thing, and yet I still can’t seem to taper off. I do enjoy them for their sociological insight into late ’70s/early ’80s Canada, anyway. Today we learn what the main characteristic of a dark, seedy Montreal jazz club of the era was: omnipresent menacing mustaches.
Marmaduke, 2/6/10
Come now, Marmaduke’s lovingly curated collection of human femurs is a work of art, not a mere job. I mean, I at least hope that nobody’s paying him for it.
People! Normally, I don’t bother you with metaposts mid-week, but I’ve received a bevy of Mark Trail related delights from readers over the past few weeks that I feel deserve their own showcase!
First up is a book discovered by faithful reader Charterstoned:
Note that it’s Mark Trail’s Fishing Tips Created By Ed Dodd, with the actual authorship left vague. Presumably this book was churned out by strip creator Dodd’s lowly assistant, while Dodd partied till all hours with Hollywood big shots.
This is clearly the high point of the whole book, in which an innocent young boy cringes in terror at the approach of a menacing weirdo in a hat. Don’t worry, kid; he just wants your gum … for now.
Also, you can tell the difference between the various almost-identical kinds of catfish you catch, assuming that counting the number of rays on on a dead, smelly fish’s fins is your idea of a good time.
Of course, it wouldn’t be Mark Trail without a freakishly oversized animal. Fishing dude who may or may not be Mark is so smug about his little pie-pan trick that he doesn’t even notice the giant carnivorous moth that’s about to latch onto his face.
Meanwhile, faithful reader Jasper Jinks sends a couple of scans from a 1956 Mark Trail comic book put out by the U.S. Public Health Service.
An “industrial problem” that’s “being licked all over America by plain citizens, working together at the local level for everyone’s benefit”? Translation: Mark Trail is a dirty communist. A dirty communist in terrifying jodhpurs.
The plot of this tract involves a rotten little kid who gets a little under the weather after swimming in a watering hole containing industrial run-off from some awesomely profitable factory. Here’s a scene of the crazed Marxist lynch mob Mark puts together to put a stop to progress. Note that Mark is clenching his fist in case political agitation fails and he needs to punch pollution out of the water:
Of course, seeing old Mark Trails like this makes one wonder how similar they are to the current version. Well, a lot more than you might think! Faithful reader These Strange Worlds has put together an exhaustive comparison showing how much of the current storyline is recycled from one that ran 30 years ago.
And, finally, fans of Mark Trail and making fun of Mark Trail should check out Mark Stale. “What’s wrong, Rusty? Why are you lying awake, whimpering like a baby?” (Thanks to faithful reader festoonic for the tip.)
Oh, also, if you are going to be in the mid-Atlantic region over the weekend of May 22, perhaps you will want to get in on a meetup faithful reader bourbon babe is planning? Certain bloggers who live in that neck of the woods will in all probability make an appearance! (HINT HINT)
Apartment 3-G, 1/31/10
Margo has been largely absent from the A3G panels of late, privately mourning the death of her fiance in her own way (which way I assume involves equal parts cocaine and fisticuffs). While Sunday installments of this strip usually just consist of recaps of the previous week’s action, today we at least get a welcome Margo cameo. Her mind clouded by grief and/or drugs, she takes the opportunity to berate Tommie for no good reason, just screaming things at her that may or may not actually be responses to anything Tommie is actually saying.
Meanwhile, Professor Papagoras, realizing the implications of his sexy affair with a pill addict, contemplates two asprin and wonders if they’ll be a gateway to the hard stuff. Will he be on the street in a few weeks, desperately seeking a connection who can supply him with some black market Nuprin?
Mark Trail, 1/31/10
Mark extols the cleverness of the fisher without really dwelling on what its plans for that adorable old porcupine are now that it’s been flipped over on its back. The Wikipedia article on the subject assures us that stories that the fisher will “scoop out [the porcupine's] belly like a ripe melon” are exaggerated; however, actually observed behavior, in which the fisher kills the porcupine over the course of half an hour by biting it on the face, is no less unsettling. Such a scene would be inappropriate for the Sunday funnies, though it might be amusing to depict Rusty watching on and weeping in terror at the end of the gruesome process.
Judge Parker, 1/31/10
Today’s Judge Parker is pretty much all about fucking! Sam, who lived in sin with Abbey for years before she made an honest man out of him, shows further hypocrisy by fulminating about Neddy’s sexual autonomy while crowing over Rocky and Godiva re-energizing their Hollywood sham marriage out in the guest house’s bed. Meanwhile, Randy Parker has arrived at April’s, for sex. Unfortunately, his disastrous new brush cut and ill-advised decision to pair a brown jacket with a black t-shirt may mitigate against this desired outcome; April is already openly fantasizing that he had decided not to show up.
Panels from Blondie, 1/31/10
Dagwood’s odd gait, with his unnaturally low shin-to-thigh ratio and his knees perpetually bent even in situations where normal people would stand upright, is one of this strip’s most striking artistic conventions. I believe it was a commentor on this blog who suggested that Mr. Dithers at some point had Dagwood’s hamstrings cut to limit his mobility and prevent him from fleeing his sinister employer. However, in this final panel, we see that his unusual leg structure may be an evolutionary adaptation that allows him to sleep comfortably on the family’s too-short couch.
Panels from Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/31/10
The throwaway panels of today’s Snuffy Smith offer an explanation of the strange mixture of modern and archaic that defines the strip’s universe. At some point, perhaps several generations before the action began, the America we know was destroyed in some terrible cataclysm, possibly a nuclear war, leaving behind a ragtag, malnourished group of survivors attempting to rebuild their civilization, using their dim memory of the previous golden age as a guide. The disaster has also left its mark on the language these characters speak; just as the English language changed rapidly in the Middle Ages, when the ruling Norman aristocracy spoke French and English was used only by uneducated peasants, so too have these hardy survivors been too busy over the past decades rebuilding their smashed world to worry about the niceties of a bygone era’s grammatical rules. Thus, it’s not too surprising that the polity just beginning to arise in the aftermath of this destruction has the neologistic name of the “Newnited States”.
In unrelated news, the Smith (or “Smif,” in the new orthography) family gene pool is lousy with criminality.
Mark Trail, 1/29/10
I’m hoping that this Mark Trail storyline might be about to turn into Brokeback Mountain meets The Larry Craig Story. “An ‘old friend,’ Ben Harris, has a camp up ahead … I don’t think he’s going to be too happy with me, bringing a handsome young man like yourself along with me!” “It has been a long time, Senator … you’re looking good … so good … and you’re bringing someone else here … to our special place …” *sob*
Mary Worth, 1/29/10
Now, this is the point where all you cynics are going to say, “Ha ha, see, Kurt was lying all along!” That’s nonsense. If a scam artist were confronted with a request for a paternity test, they’d probably sputter and prevaricate. They certainly would not unleash a clipped “I don’t believe in their accuracy.” Thus, I am forced to conclude that Kurt is not a con man; he is a cyborg.
Rex Morgan, M.D., 1/29/10
Rex and June begin to suspect that Sarah is on to their plan to drop her off at a farm upstate and never come back.
Hi and Lois, 1/21/10
Uh oh, it looks like that damn Women’s Lib has ruined storytime forever, am I right, fellas? Used to be little girls would hear medieval tales about being rescued from dragons and becoming some handsome man’s property and just eat it up, but now they want, like, social and economic autonomy and shit. The befuddled look on Hi and Ditto’s faces shows that they know that patriarchy has been fatally undermined.
Of course, Hi appears to be reading not so much out of a storybook as from a few pieces of loose-leaf paper folded down the middle to form a crude booklet with “ONCE UPON A TIME” scrawled across the front. Perhaps the inside is filled mostly with Hi’s rantings about how the 19th amendment brought about a gynocentric tyranny, which makes Dot’s response all the more reasonable.
Herb and Jamaal, 1/21/10
Herb seems to have been possessed by an extremely mellow demon, which has compelled him to casually pull the Bible off the shelf and spit on it. The holy book responds to this assault by releasing thick clouds of acrid smoke. Who will win this low-stakes battle for Herb’s immortal soul?
Mark Trail, 1/21/10
Meanwhile, the sinister Parker Brothers have struck at the … dudes … in the canoe … who I don’t know who they are … by running their outboard motor at them? I guess? Oh, that’s a punching for that, that is.