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Apartment 3-G, 4/7/11

Abandoned by her roommates, Margo is forced to bathroom on her own! That’s kind of an oddly drawn toilet brush; at first glance, I thought it might be some sort of archaic feathery masturbatory aid, but surely Margo is far too self-actualized to refer to self-pleasure as “dirty work.” Anyway, whether we’re talking cleaning the commode or rubbing one out, Margo doesn’t need to do it because Trey’s shown up. Have fun, Trey! Hope you don’t have to go to the bathroom, I hear it’s gross.

Mark Trail, 4/7/11

The Mark Trail drug-smuggling plot has ended rather anticlimactically, with Mark guiding his stolen plane to a nearby commercial airport, dropping off his escapee passengers, and he idle small talk with his government handler, who I assume had written him off for dead weeks ago. “Oh, hey,” he remarks casually, “there’s an island within a day’s boat-drift of U.S. soil where a narcotics kingpin rules with an iron fist and keeps people as slaves. You might want to look into that or whatever.”

I also look forward to the confused encounter between Lonnie and the Coast Guard that will result from Mark’s brush-off in panel two. “Your family? Uh … do they live near a coast?”

Dennis the Menace, 4/7/11

Ha ha, this is exactly the sort of thing that would normally send Mr. Wilson into a rage! But his pupils are invisible because his eyes are rolled back behind his drooping eyelids, indicating that he’s been in a dissociated state for hours. If Mrs. Wilson wants to call that “senility,” that’s fine, I guess; whatever keeps him out of her hair, amiright?

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Mark Trail, 4/4/11

Remember a few years ago when Mark’s friend Dan faked his own death by drowning and Mark, thinking he was witnessing a tragedy, begged his friend to “COME ON, DAN. COME TO THE SURFACE!” I’m reminded of that in today’s strip, as Mark orders this plane into the air. Never mind the fact that this particular drug-running aircraft has taken off from exactly this runaway dozens of times; Mark seems to feel that only he can coax it airborne. I was going to say that Mark apparently believes that he can lift things or people with his mind, but then I realized that Mark, who speaks aloud every thought he’s ever had, doesn’t really understand the distinction between an inner self and an outer world well enough to really grasp the concept of a “mind” in the first place. I actually think that Mark believes he can lift things or people by shouting at them.

Spider-Man, 4/4/11

“Well, gee, I thought I was fighting him just moments ago, but if he and the woman who loves him say that I wasn’t, I must be wrong! I mean, what motivation do they have to lie about it?”

Beetle Bailey, 4/4/11

Sarge needs Beetle active and productive, and if that means getting him back on the meth, then so be it.

Apartment 3-G, 4/4/11

She wasn’t quite subtle enough this morning, but one of these days, Margo’s going to trick Tommie into coming out.

Panel from Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/4/11

Rex Morgan is still very focused on its increasingly uninteresting lottery drama, but that doesn’t mean it can’t liven things up with a mustachioed man cramming an entire hamburger down his throat in one gulp.

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Mark Trail, 3/30/11

I’ll say this for Mark Trail: he makes no pretense of being acquainted with hip narcotics lingo, thus sparing him any rock vs. dope embarrassments. No, those squarish bales are just drugs of some kind, and that’s all he needs to know. Now he’s going to set it all on fire, which should be awesomely hilarious. Only Mark will avoid the contact high, by sheer force of rectitude.

Mary Worth, 3/30/11

“More to the point, how much longer are you going to be masturbating to my ‘men’s workout’ plausible-deniability porno mags? Damn it, I need those! They’re all I’ve got! You know Mary won’t let me use the Internet!”

Gil Thorp, 3/30/11

It’s come to our attention that nobody cares about the folksinger girl plot, and for some reason we feel obligated to do a musical plot, so here, here’s the exact same Slim Chance plot that happened last spring. Did you find that one tiresome after a few months? Well, too bad, it’s going to happen again.