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Mark Trail, 4/6/12

Obviously the idea of a Mark Trail storyline about marijuana sets the bar for hilarity very high, but I have to say that we haven’t been disappointed so far! I absolutely love the fact that this forest ranger has to stare at the pot plants for a while before he can remember what they are. I’m not a botanist or a stoner, but aren’t marijuana plants pretty distinctive-looking, especially to a trained naturalist type? I mean, I guess he’s trying to identify a plant growing in the underbrush from an aerial photo, which is pretty impressive. Anyway, even better is his outraged declaration in panel three. “Someone is growing marijuana on government property! Nobody gets away with that unless Uncle Sam gets a taste!”

Crankshaft, 4/6/12

It’s really sad to me that Crankshaft seems to regard a little light garden paraphernalia hoarding as an impetus for sinister chuckling. It’s like he can’t enjoy life unless he at least pretends to himself that he’s being a dick.

Apartment 3-G, 4/6/12

Aaaand we’re back to the prego porn.

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Beetle Bailey, 3/29/12

Cookie has always been something of an anomaly among the denizens of Camp Swampy; he never appears in uniform, so one assumes that, like Miss Buxley, he’s a civilian employee of the military rather than a soldier himself. My grandfather was during World War II a stateside Army cook who was actually in the Army; I’m not sure when that stopped being a thing, but presumably it was during the post-Korea/pre-Vietnam era during which most of Beetle Bailey’s now thoroughly outdated tropes arose. One assumes that today Cookie receives his paycheck from a Halliburton subsidiary.

But while he may not be under military discipline in a strict legal sense, it appears that he’s required to do the bidding of whoever’s around with the highest rank. Today’s strip, for instance, is much more than the typical ha-ha-Sarge-sure-likes-to-eat because of Cookie’s look of quiet despair. He knows he’s killing Sarge calorie by calorie, knows as he stares into that pan that he’s troweling grease onto Sarge’s arteries every morning. He’d like to suggest a healthy breakfast once in a while, but he’s duty-bound to produce 1,190 calories, as ordered. But he doesn’t have to be happy about it.

Mark Trail, 3/29/12

The beginning of this current Mark Trail storyline has promised nothing but a little aerial photography of the greater Lost Forest region, which, once it became clear that Mark was not terrified by the notion of mechanically assisted flight, did very little for me. But now the real action is starting, and that action involves what I assume are marijuana plants that are about to be spotted from the air, and that action will be awesome. Hey, generic khaki-clad baddies, do you know who would recognize marijuana? Mark Trail! Prepare to get punched something fierce!

Family Circus, 3/29/12

Skynet has sent an army of T-1000s from the future to attack the Keane Kompound, which should make us question whether it really hates humanity as much as we’ve been led to believe.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/29/12

“And his thirst for brown liquor!”

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Beetle Bailey, 3/21/12

Amos Halftrack, aspirational onanist.

Judge Parker, 3/21/12

Nuzzling, not muzzling!

Blondie, 3/21/12

Dagwood Bumstead, Siri’s bitch.

Curtis, 3/21/12

Cuss Skunk, urban hero.

Mark Trail, 3/21/12

Stink Jacket saves the day.

— Uncle Lumpy