And baby makes
three HELL ON EARTH
Mark Trail, 3/9/09
You know, I was really hoping that Mark would smugly return to his forest home today, so we could get started on the next storyline about poachers or whatever, and perhaps we could begin to forget the retrograde horror that has been the Ken and Patti plotline. But instead, things are getting even worse. Previously, Patti said something about not being able to have a baby, which I assumed meant that her womb had been blighted by the Lord in punishment for her occasionally having negative thoughts about the way her husband slapped her around; today, though, we learn that Ken has apparently been withholding his man-essence from her, but has now decided that it’s time he began reproducing himself. So, in an attempt to provide some sort of balanced view, let me just say this: BABIES DO NOT SOLVE MARITAL PROBLEMS. THEY EXACERBATE THEM. But unless the “tests” our nurse is about to run include a surreptitious vasectomy, it’s probably too late for our doomed couple.
Oh, look, Cleats is taking a break from its kid-friendly sports humor to introduce yet another terrifying demon-thing. Pray to God that it doesn’t turn around tomorrow, showing us the front of its grotesque, unnatural head.
Judge Parker, 3/9/09
“Interesting? Not really … wait, this is Judge Parker. ‘Interesting’ is code for ‘offering an opportunity for a hot lady to show off her breasts.’ So, yeah, I guess that is kind of interesting.”
Slylock Fox, 3/9/09
Koppy Kat’s bust made big headlines, but as a first-time offender, he was able to plea-bargain his sentence down to 18 months in minimum security, thanks to his agreement to discreetly help local museums determine which of their pieces were forgeries. (There were more than you’d think, and not all of them came out of Koppy’s workshop.) To the surprise of everyone, the experience scared him straight; upon his release, he embarked on a career as an art consultant, supplementing his income by churning out “Six Differences” puzzles. But that day’s bust had a just as big an effect on someone else: Max Mouse. As soon as he laid eyes on that unsettling psychedelic drawing of Mickey with one eye and one ear, he realized just how limited his worldview was, and he was immediately seized by a need to expand his consciousness however he could. Six months later, he had changed his name to “Maximum Spirit Voyager,” was living in a commune in New Mexico, and had taken more peyote than most doctors would have believed survivable.