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Mark Trail, 1/23/07

Hmm … “Mark, this is Dick … the beaver we trapped is back!” Oh, close enough. Welcome back into my heart, you crazy beavers! All is forgiven!

I love Mark’s goofy, heavy-lidded grin in the final panel. “Yeah, that Dick … he’ll shoot a beaver, all right … no warning … those kids should be worried … he’d shoot the kids too … Rusty and … the other one … the little girl … what’s her name … oh, Christ, I am so wasted.”

Gil Thorp, 1/23/07

Ah, it’s another fabulous Gil Thorp crowd scene, this time brought to you by M.C. Escher. The Lady Mudlarks’ five fans are in full effect, showing their apathetic love in the center of the yawning, featureless abyss that is the Milford gymnasium. Lisa’s mom, who is usually right, apparently thinks that only her patented wacky Mussolini impression will get this crowd fired up. That having failed, in panel two she manages to bend the nature of reality itself, and Blondie McBuzzcut looks up in confused terror as she manages to get her arm in front of his face in defiance of ordinary spatial dynamics.

Speaking of panel two, Person Of Indeterminate Gender Wearing A Fur-Trimmed Jacket And Hat Even Though He Or She Is Inside is back! It’s good to see that Lady Mudlark fever is chronic, if not infectious.

I might be more hip to the nuances of the thrilling “But…” in panel three if I were more intimately acquainted with the meanings of high school basketball referee hand signals. But all in all, I’m pretty glad I’m not.

Spider-Man, 1/23/07

Spidey’s been in the midst of a wholly uncharacteristic crime-fighting spree this week, but don’t worry: it’s just a cover-up for his usual whiny marital angst. I’m not sure how you pronounce “?”, but I can guess why he’s trying; I don’t think any member of the actual criminal element has used the phrase “plugged nickel” in, well, ever.

Pluggers, 1/23/07

No. No. If some aspect of being a plugger is contingent on being literate, then … everything I know about how the world works is meaningless.

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Due to stupid real-world time pressures, I probably won’t be able to post today’s comics until late tonight or maybe even tomorrow, but I felt that this article in the Toronto Star needed to be brought to the attention of those who don’t read the comments post haste. (Thanks to faithful reader Big Stu for the link!) Long story short, it’s yet another feature about the future of FBOFW, with yet another version of what’s going to happen to the strip after this fall. That keeps changing because, as Johnston says in the story, she hasn’t really figured out exactly what she’s going to do yet.

But! The important thing is that the article contains a poll asking readers to which of Lizardbreath’s suitors she should pledge her troth. It’s on the right-hand side of the page, about halfway down the story. Against all logic and decency, The Mustache is currently in the lead with 40 percent; Paul has 33 percent and Warren 25 percent. Clearly the addition of Warren was an attempt to dilute the anti-Anthony hate, but I think all of you know what needs to be done about this poll. Go forth and cast your votes!

Apropos of nothing, but since I’ve got your attention, Gil Thorp fans and haters alike owe it to themselves to check out This Week In Milford. There’s a dramatic movie trailer built completely out of GT panels that is particularly amusing.

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Apartment 3-G, 1/9/07

Apartment 3-G ought by right to serve at least a little bit as an anthropological survey of life and mores of various types in New York City. 99 percent of the time it’s laughably off-target, but every once in a while it hits the mark. Margo is exactly the sort of yuppie wannabe who would make this sort of snarky, dismissive comment about New York’s superabundance of artist wannabes, and has exactly the sort of defective empathy gene to make it in front of her roommate and supposed friend, an aspiring artist.

Lu Ann, meanwhile, has one of the thinnest books of art history I’ve ever seen. Presumably that’s all the information her little brain can hold. I guess that helpful, horny librarian ended up taking her to the children’s section, which may explain why that relationship went nowhere.

Gil Thorp, 1/9/07

Note to Gil Thorp and Comics Curmudgeon readers: Please, please stop making fun of the art in this strip, because you’ll only goad the artists into perpetrating more unsettling attempts at photorealism like panel three here. I guess the point is supposed to be that Helen is making this daring investigative phone call in the dark because that’s, you know, more dramatic.

Rick Bozich is right, by the way: nobody cares about no-bid contracts, especially when the contracts involved are for IT services to a no-account exurban school district, as they are here. Presumably the Man and/or lack of public interest will force the Star to kill Helen’s exposé, and she’ll have to resort to the ultimate indignity: turning to the world of blogs. Her spiritual brother, that crusading journalist known only as HALIBURTON $UCKS, was forced down the same path.

Dennis the Menace, 1/8/09

I think that about fifteen years from now, we’ll find out [INNUENDO-LADEN JOKE ABOUT A “MARGARET SANDWICH” REDACTED DUE TO EXTREMELY POOR TASTE] hey, is Dennis drinking Metamucil?