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Marvin, 5/15/07

Remember, kids: HIGH TECHNOLOGY = COMEDY GOLD. Here’s a list of punchlines that would be very similar to the one in this strip, but which fail to achieve knee-slapping hilarity because they ignore the crucial “e-factor” of Internet-related revelry:

  • “I think it means mom got me from Christie’s in New York.”
  • “I think it means mom paid money for me at a store.”
  • “I think it means I was born in a country that doesn’t value girl babies, but does value Western currency.”
  • “I think it means mom couldn’t get anyone to have sex with her.”

Mark Trail, 5/15/07

I’m pretty sure that, like George W. Bush’s famous “Bring it on!” line, County Commissioner Sideburns Q. Mustache’s statement that “If Mark Trail is looking for a bird problem, let’s give him one!” will haunt the rest of his political career. Thus it will probably be a blessing that said career isn’t going to last much longer, since Mark will soon show up to impeach him WITH HIS FISTS.

Longtime Mark Trail readers probably thought that last year’s “I’ll use explosives to fake a rockslide so as to convince the county to seize forest land via eminent domain to the advantage of my planned gambling casino” was some sort of apex of laughably unrealistic political skullduggery, but with this “Let’s get people fired up about birds so we can convince them to vote in a new airport on our property,” we move past “contrived” and straight on into Dada. If you managed to convince Karl Rove to drop acid and write a comic strip — and I have to admit that I would support you in such a quixotic effort — this is the sort of thing he’d come up with.

B.C., 5/15/07

Hey everybody! Let’s set the wayback machine for [squints] 1997 and enjoy some classic B.C.! Today, we learn that you shouldn’t go to chiropractors who are deranged mass murderers who build furniture out of the mangled body parts of their victims as some sort of horrific monument to their soulless evil. See, this strip used to be “edgy.”

Apartment 3-G, 5/15/07

FYI, I’m officially boycotting Apartment 3-G until it starts making God-damned sense again.