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Mark Trail, 5/21/08

Why do we tolerate Mark Trail’s inane dialog and nonsensical plots? For the brief and hilarious outbreaks of violence, of course, and today’s is a doozy. Mark kicking in the petnappers’ door so hard that it bends while apologizing (to the door, apparently) for his entrance not being as dramatic as he intended could be the greatest combination of vigilantism and almost-but-not-quite-idiomatic English since “You won’t be releasing any more birds!” Tomorrow we should could get some important questions answered, such as: Will Mark punch a woman? And are his fists powerful enough to separate a man from his ponytail?

Today’s action is made especially hilarious by Mark’s reedy, pipe-cleaner like legs and tiny feet. It appears that the terrible limb-wasting disease that has already ravaged Rusty is beginning to spread throughout the Trails’ Lost Forest compound.

Ziggy, 5/21/08

Oh, yes, ha ha, it was all very funny when Ziggy got e-mail from his toilet, but today we see that this was only part of a larger crisis in the Ziggyverse. Apparently our hapless gnome-like protagonist is beginning to notice the computerized functionality that lies behind all the seemingly ordinary aspects of his world — and it’s all beginning to go awry. This can only mean one thing: The Matrix has finally come to the top of the Netflix queue over at Ziggy central.

Also, if anyone can tell me why the normally pantsless Ziggy has decided that going to beach would be a good occasion for covering up his nether bits, I’d love to hear it. But if you have a theory as to where his nipples went, you can just keep it yourself.

Judge Parker, 5/21/08

So, Legless Steve spent weeks brooding about possible terrorist threats to his life, only to see them neutralized in about thirty seconds by his feisty, miniskirted legal secretary. Meanwhile, Abbey spent longer than it even bears thinking about harboring suspicions about her neighbors, even engaging in some cut-rate derring-do to spy on them, only to have them found out and apprehended off-screen, by someone else. Judge Parker seems determined to challenge Spider-Man in the Least Satisfying Dramatic Tension Resolution Olympics.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/21/08

No, “incited” isn’t an adorable malapropism. There’s an angry, torch-wielding mob just off-panel. You’re lucky you can’t read, Merrie; it sure wouldn’t be “just another book” to you then.

Beetle Bailey, 5/21/08

Oh, General Halftrack! Your tales of your emotionally crushing marriage are amusing and all, but you and I both know that you’re just hung over. Or possibly still drunk.

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Mary Worth, 5/19/08

Well, it’s Monday, and with the sad story of the Dead Donna and the Battlin’ Amalfi Boys having reached its natural conclusion, it looks like we’re gearing up for another … wait, what’s this? We’re still at the funeral? Oh, Mary, you wily silver fox, you! I should have known that there were more twists and turns awaiting us in this storyline, since we’re barely a month into it. Will there be fisticuffs at the reading of the will? Will Ron and Richard follow papal precedent and dig up their mother’s corpse, demanding to know who she really loved best? I’m all a-tingle! I should point out that one of the greatest Mary Worth plots in living memory, the tale of Drunken, Co-Dependent Rita Begler, started at a funeral just like this one.

In panel two, it seems that Ron is less thrilled with Mary’s continued presence in his life than I am, as he appears to be preparing a stiff right uppercut for her if she gets any closer.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/19/08

Last week’s tale of how Everybody Wants Liz Because She Is Perfect probably brought the levels of foobishness in your bloodstream to an uncomfortably high level; since this week promises to focus on Mike’s Totally Awesome Writing Career, we may have to brace ourselves for a public health emergency. Braver souls than I who have perused the official For Better Or For Worse Web site tell me that his latest opus was originally supposed to be some crap about a boy in the 1870s who’s mad at his father and joins the crew of a sailboat or something; but since the title appears to be Blood Cargo, I’m assuming that during the writing process it turned into a grisly tale of a boatload of demons, sailing from port to port, dragging the living on board and keeping their mutilated corpses below decks to use as food. Presumably he’s hoping for a quick cash-in by selling to a second-rate J-Horror director looking to make it big in Canada. Reading between the lines, Carleen’s dialog should probably read “I mean, you look like a normal guy — but you come up with all these ideas that make me think that you’re some kind of budding serial killer!”

What exactly is Weed doing in panel two? It looks like he’s somehow suspending an enormous empty picture frame in the middle of his hip loft apartment, possibly as an act of protest against the tyranny of “art.” Whatever it is, it’s as good as excuse as any to avoid talking to Michael and coming up with something nice to say about his terrible, terrible book.

Judge Parker, 5/19/08

“I’m the richest person in the county … I don’t get parking tickets! In fact, I could probably have this highway patrolman fired, or killed!”

Pearls Before Swine, 5/19/08

I have to say that I really love Pig’s facial expression in the third panel. I like the idea that he gets all excited just writing “Surprise!” I suppose the cable company won’t really get the full effect, since they can’t see it.

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Judge Parker, 5/7/08

Hey, kids, welcome to Judge Parker, where nothing ever happens for months and months and months, but when it happens, it really happens! A sexy (admittedly, we can’t see her face, but this being Judge Parker, “sexy” is a good bet) lady terrorist hell-bent on revenge! A cancer-ridden old lady in a wheelchair transformed into an unwilling human bomb! A battle royal between an enraged woman and an ex-Navy SEAL with no legs! Enjoy your next several days of thrilling action before we get back to the boring. In panel two, Momma Steve’s creepy, flesh-colored gag makes her look like some kind of mouthless horror, which hopefully indicates that the denouement of this story will be as deviant as the one in this strip’s pervy trip to France.

Crock, 5/7/08

I’m sort of charmed by the phrase “marked-down polyester from Wal-Mart,” which implies that you can go into the world’s largest retailer and buy great bolts of cloth to take home to your wife, who will sew them into the clothes for you and your children. It reads like it’s been written by someone who’s heard second-hand about developments in retail since the 19th century, but has never actually been in a store per se.

Update: Uh, apparently you can buy fabric at Wal-Mart with which to make your own clothes, like they did in olden days. Ha ha! Josh is a moron!

Ziggy, 5/7/08

Ziggy is so sad and lonely that he’s turned to the bottle; but, far from forgetting his problems, in his drunken state he’s become even more maudlin, and is now just sitting at the table by himself weeping openly. The waiter, profoundly unsettled by the raw emotional pain on display, covers up his discomfort by cracking wise.