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Mark Trail, 12/15/08

A couple of months back, I posited that this could in fact be the ultimate Mark Trail storyline, including as it does all of the strip’s favorite plot devices — gentle forest hermits, rapacious mustachioed developers, a “hot” chick who wants to do Mark, terrible pet-napping hillbillies with sinister designs and stupid names, etc. In fact, there’s only been really one major Trail bugaboo missing, and that’s Indian artifact smuggling! So naturally Mark, in an attempt to fit his terrible ordeal in with the nature of the world he knows, assumes that Salty and his gang are “smugglers of some sort” (hint: the sort that smuggle PRICELESS INDIAN ARTIFACTS!) despite no evidence pointing in that direction. Maybe they’re just run-of-the-mill baddies who tie up local irritants on their disused shrimp boat, then fall asleep, for money!

Also absent in this storyline, up until today: a word balloon emanating from Andy’s crotch. So, there’s that.

Mary Worth, 12/15/08

Poor Lynn is starved for the human affection conveyed by simple hug, since everyone in her life (“everyone” consisting entirely of her father, ever since he had the brake lines cut on Greg’s brother’s car) is repulsed by such niceties as “physical contact.” Our heartbroken skater calculates (probably correctly) that Mary is in the “no touch” club, so in panel one she skillfully feints a dramatic pose against a convenient tree before pivoting and hurling herself into Mary’s arms. I give it a 9.8 (ideally her left arm would have come in below Mary’s right).

Another possibility is that Lynn is speaking literally when she says that her heart stopped when she heard about Greg’s death; this whole boring story was meant only to lull Mary into complacency, and now Zombie Lynn will lunge at her victim and feast on her brains.

Hagar the Horrible, 12/15/08

Oh, Hagar the Horrible, what a pretty and atmospheric winter scene you have for us here! It almost seems petty to point out that you seem to have forgotten to include a punchline of any sort in today’s strip.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 12/15/08

This is today’s Mother Goose and Grimm. It’s about dog-on-tree necrophilia! Yes, Ralph, it’s no coloring error that those hearts above your head are inky black, as your love for Lana is dirty and shameful.

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Family Circus and Hagar the Horrible, 9/27/08

Two legacy strips check in with mind-bending unjokes today. Little Billy, having grown bored with physical violence, threats of physical violence, and crude insults, has decided to use some Philosophy 101 semantics and ontology to harass his sister. “Dolly, when is a thing not a thing? When do names not encode true meaning? Huh? Huh? Do you get it? Do you?” Dolly’s expression of anxiety proves that her big brother’s reign of terror is continuing on unchecked — only this time, she’ll have no bruises to show Mommy, so the torture will continue.

Meanwhile, Hagar is forcing an existential dilemma on his poor dog. “Why do you have to be what you are? Why can’t you be something else?” The idea that a question like “why” can even be applied to the essence of existence is enough to send anyone into paroxysms of depression — I didn’t make me! Why can’t love me as I am! Fortunately, Snert seems to have a great deal more self-assurance than Dolly, and is unfazed.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/27/08

You hear that, doc? You stay away from Niki, if you like that pretty little face of yours! And if there’s one thing we know about Rex, it’s that he likes that pretty little face of his.

Shoe, 9/27/08

I always assume that, when it appears in a newspaper comic strip, “dating” is a euphemism for “fucking,” which assumption really pays off when it comes to making this strip funnier. There’s a joke about hitting balls with clubs to be made here as well, but I leave that as an exercise for the reader.

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Gil Thorp, 8/8/08

If there was a terrifying malformed human feature that defined the Frank McLaughlin era of Gil Thorp, it was the hair. The Rod Whigham era has just begun, but it’s pretty clear that in the new regime, it’s the hands that are most likely to make you feel queasy and uncomfortable. Whether we’re talking about malformed flippers or severed forearms attached to nothing particular, from the elbow down everything in the modern-day Gil Thorp is a little dodgy. Today’s panel three seems to be a direct response to criticism on this point. “You want well-drawn hands?” it practically shouts. “Well, here they are, by God, straight out of an anatomy textbook, disproportionally huge, and held up at an angle that nobody would ever actually use when clapping. Are you happy? Are you happy now?”

Hagar the Horrible, 8/8/08

That sly look on Helga’s face in panel two makes me think that “rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top” is some incredibly filthy Viking sex act, possibly involving an actual tree and the sacrifice of a dozen virgins to Freya.

Mary Worth, 8/8/08

Hey, everybody! You can follow along with Toby’s amazing phishing journey at the newly updated Enormoushop.com! Be sure to give it a few moments so as to get the full-on identity-stealing experience. (UPDATE: And by “give it a few moments” I mean “wait about 10 seconds for the redirect, then wait again for another redirect, all three screens are funny, you won’t regret it.”)

Shoe, 8/8/08

Sexual affairs? I’m much more concerned about the emotional affairs. What with all the suppressed longing and daydreaming, the ostensibly “platonic” outings crackling with sexual tension, the long, tortured e-mails about why anything more is impossible — why, it doesn’t leave any time for the important work of the elected official, like meeting with lobbyists and raising money for re-election.

I’ve long been on the record as opposing Shoe’s depiction of birds with human-lady-style breasts, since actual birds do not have such things and they look creepy and weird. Well, do you know what else birds don’t have? Teeth. You hear me, panel three? Teeth.

Marmaduke, 8/8/08

With the back yard now essentially one vast mass grave, Marmaduke has begun storing the decomposing bodies of his victims in the house.

Ziggy, 8/8/08

Ha ha! Those angry little birds are going to feast on Ziggy’s flesh!