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Archive: Mark Trail

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The sweet embrace of opiates

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Six Chix, 11/8/11

I’m a little puzzled by the visual messaging going on here. The icon of the culty robed figure, standing on a public street and holding a sign, is well established in the cartoonist’s vocabulary, if not in reality. Usually these people are bearded old dudes, and I’ll accept the divergence from the type here to accommodate Six Chix’s lady-centric mission, but the placards they carry generally offer dire warnings of impending apocalypse, and so I don’t buy the slightly too wordy (is “Hugs Not Drugs” trademarked?) anti-drug PSA this woman is perpetrating. I do like the sassy pill-popper’s response, though. “Oh, honey, I can go days and days without physical contact with another human being — let’s be honest, most of them smell bad or linger too long or both — but it’s been four hours since I took my last Vicodin and I’m really starting to miss it, you know?”

Mark Trail, 11/8/11

I certainly hope that Kelly Welly’s article is just an expansion of what we see in panel three, which is to say that it should be page after page of closeup photos of her eyes and bangs overlaid with free associated noun phrases. It will win every single Pulitzer Prize available.

Apartment 3-G, 11/8/11

Meanwhile, the Apartment 3-G writer and artist are in the middle of one of their “you are going to draw things if I have to kill you” spats. “What will it take to get you to draw clothing that is not boring? Lu Ann’s breasts? Is that what it takes? Fine.”

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Your bloody death will be unBEARably adorable!

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Mark Trail, 11/3/11

As if we needed more evidence, today we see who’s really in charge here in McQueen Valley. Supposed lawman Mountie McQueen gets all twitchy and gun-happy at the slightest hint of trouble. Mother McQueen, however, just casually and subtly lets everyone know who’s in charge and who could be savagely ripped to shreds by a bear at any moment. “Yes, I rescued this beast as a cub from a pack of bloodthirsty predators, and now it is devoted to me, and only me. Does his presence make you … uncomfortable? Here, let me tie this flimsy muzzle around his snout. I can take it off just as easily as I put it on! And of course his claws remain at the ready. Now, was one of you saying something about leaving this valley or attempting to contact the outside world?”

Crankshaft, 11/3/11

It used to be that you could say, “Crankshaft may be a miserable, hateful human being who will soon die alone and unloved, as he deserves, and occasionally we’re forced to contemplate the ugly and pathetic libidinous impulses that lurk below his crusty, misanthropic surface, but at least we’re never forced to contemplate the volume and texture of his bowel movements.” Used to be.

Funky Winkerbean, 11/3/11

Meanwhile, a couple of depressives playing video games in a comic book store are trying to compare themselves to badasses who practiced dark magic.

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Funkyverse follies

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Funky Winkerbean, 10/31/11

All those scolds who are stoking moral panic about video games ought to come by Comic Book Store John’s comic book store and see how wrong they are! John’s been playing “Family Circus: The Video Game” for eleven hours straight now, and he isn’t exhibiting any aggressive behavior at all. Instead, he’s mostly just slouching, staring ahead glassy-eyed, and quietly offering vague, dyspeptic observations to actual humans who pass through his peripheral vision over the course of his gaming-trance.

Crankshaft, 10/31/11

I’m sort of perversely proud of myself for not being entirely sure of what anybody’s name in Crankshaft is, other than Crankshaft. Jeff? Is Jeff the terminally anxious ’Shaft son-in-law? Anyway, his typically anxious expression really makes this strip for me. In the easiest version of this gag, the smug suburban adult would be leaning against the door frame, smirking at the kids due to their ignorance of the expense of adulthood. But Jeff seems genuinely concerned that little children don’t know how terrifying it is to be responsible for your own finances. “You kids are living in a fantasy world!” his face seems to say. “The sooner you realize that life is a never-ending series of goals that you almost but can’t quite reach, the better! Please, join me in the responsible adult world of constant low-level panic, for your own good!”

Mark Trail, 10/31/11

Since I assume that no human anywhere has ever referred to his or her actual mother as “Mother [his or her own last name],” I am beginning to suspect that Mother McQueen is not Mountie McQueen’s mother at all, but rather the matriarch of his mysterious bible-banding nature cult, all of whose members are allowed (and required) to take the “McQueen” surname after their first successful capture and banding of a goose. This explains why she’s so quick to prevent him from gunning down Mark and the others in cold blood: because he doesn’t have the authority to do so. Remember, Doug, only the Presiding Reverend of the One Holy Apostolic Reformed Free-Will Church of the Bible Band has the power of life and death here in The Valley, just as only she can arrange marriages and dictate clothing colors!