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Dick Tracy, 9/23/20

You might remember that legitimate biologist/Dracula cosplayer Professor Stokes bragged of “collecting over a third of Faith’s blood volume in record time” (consensually, I guess?) and promised to “add her sisters’ blood to my collection as well.” I guess based on the names Hope and Charity these are the aforementioned sisters, and it’s pretty strong evidence of the uselessness of the scions of wealthy families that mere days after their sister was found exsanguinated in an alley somewhere, they’re busy squabbling over whether to buy cool cars or invest in mutual funds from extremely dubious-sounding brokerages, rather than getting the hell out of town before they too are tapped and drained like a keg at a frat party.

Mary Worth, 9/23/20

I regret to inform you that rather than the Saul romance plot we were promised, we’re getting some kind of Brandy-Tommy business. I do find it pretty funny that Iris’s attitude towards Brandy appears to be “I’m so very grateful you’re around to cater to the emotional needs of my ne’er-do-well son, because I’ve got a very busy schedule of sex with my much younger boyfriend lined up. See ya never!”

Mark Trail, 9/23/20

Oh, man, I hope the rest of the week is taken up by escalating authority figures — the mayor, the president, the Secretary-General of the UN, God himself — grabbing the phone and trying to browbeat Mark into getting on a plane, coming to New York, and receiving a tasteful engraved paperweight in front of a politely clapping audience of his peers. “Your dog’s gonna die whether you’re there or not, Mark!” says God. “Believe me, I know.