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Dennis the Menace, 7/25/13

The dark heart of Margaret and Dennis’s relationship is this: despite her prissy condemnation of his antics, Margaret genuinely wants Dennis to be her friend (and, in an inchoate prepubescent way, probably something more); on the other hand, Dennis is a creature without subtlety or inner life, and his open contempt for Margaret is exactly what it looks like, without any nuance or subtext. Of course, when Dennis needs her smarts, he’s glad to invite her over and pretend, for as brief a time as possible, that they’re pals. This is emotional menacing. This is the hardcore stuff.

Momma, 7/25/13

The “parliamentary procedure” gag here may be a little obscure, but longtime Momma trufans like us know that the whole Hobbes family has a weird fascination with prime ministers and the Westminster system of parliamentary government. A weird, sexual fascination. These are the opening moments of a twisted incestuous orgy, is what I’m saying. YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THE INSIGHT, EVERYBODY.

Mark Trail, 7/25/13

Whoops, looks like Mark isn’t just a cool meat fan! No, he went into that meat cooler looking to take pictures of … something, something glowing, something magical, like the contents of the mysterious briefcase in Pulp Fiction. Take all the pictures you want, Mark! They’re not going to do you any good! This evil bad guy is going to imprison the heck out of you, with the glowing thing!

Slylock Fox, 7/25/13

There’s four balloons, and they’re all off-white! There’s one party guest, and he has to stay outside! Welcome to the saddest birthday party ever!

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Spider-Man, 7/24/13

Good news, Spider-Man! These cheery American tourists have decided that they’re going to protect you from the heavily armed soldiers of some thuggish Latin American dictatorship! This act of solidarity should last right up until the guys with guns actually board the plane, at which point everyone will sit silently and/or pee themselves in terror. The only sound will come from this kid, who will narc out Spidey immediately, and will presumably be awarded the Order of the Eternal Costa Verdan Revolution by the country’s Supreme Generalissimo for his trouble in a ceremony attended by thousands of bussed in spectators.

Mark Trail, 7/24/13

Oh man, I am super looking forward to the explanation of why Mark wandered into this fake hunting camp’s free-standing meat cooler. “Oh, hello, fellows! I was just spending some quality time here in the meat cooler! The only thing I enjoy more than meat is meat that’s been properly cooled!”

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Mark Trail, 7/23/13

Guys, our sinister fake big game hunters have finally noticed that famous nature writer Mark Trail has literally gone “undercover” at their fake hunting lodge without wearing a disguise or even using a fake name. I guess they finally got that free trial issue of of Woods and Wildlife Magazine they signed up for, which they planned to leave lying around their fake hunting lodge to make it look more like a real hunting lodge? I like that Mark’s picture is prominently displayed at the top of the page; I assume this means that his editor Bill Ellis has given him a monthly column, where he offers his wooden, awkward thoughts on issues of importance to the outdoorsmanship community. Or maybe this is actually a copy of Outdoors Reporter, a trade magazine for nature journalists, and this a wooden, awkward interview with Mark instead.

Pluggers, 7/23/13

I’m going to mostly ignore the fairly baffling joke in today’s Pluggers (“ha ha, all you ELITIST LIBERALS are going to get LUNG CANCER from the SCIENCE CHEMICALS in your FANCY CARS, your so-called GREEN HYBRID is less ECO-FRIENDLY than you think”) and instead point out this plugger’s license plate appears to read “PLUGGRZ”. Which is problematic, because the s-for-z orthography is well known to derive from the rap music, which is anathema to pluggerdom. Perhaps it actually reads “PLUGGR2”? Just imagine our poor bear-man at the DMV, all excited as he waits in line by the idea of getting a plugger-themed license plate, then sighing heavily when he finds out that someone has beaten him to the punch and trying to decide if it’s still worth it or if he should just give up on it all together. I’m just a plugger, he thinks to himself. I guess I don’t deserve any little joys in this life, because I’m not quick enough. Then he goes back to his car and breathes in the plugger equivalent of those toxic fumes from a non-plugger’s new car interior. (The plugger equivalent is plugger farts.)