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Mark Trail, 3/5/11

Like classic James Bond films, each recent Mark Trail episode one-ups its predecessor with a more exotic location, nastier villain, and hotter babe. Lost Forest, deer-kickin’ Frank Johnson, and Cherry gave way to glamorous Sea Breeze Fishing Camp, stylishly sinister Ben Smith, and sultry Kelly Welly, only to be topped by the azure vistas of Balmy Palmy Isle, our mysterious — yet somehow fabulous — paranoid druglord, and Ms. Hotsie Highwaist here.

Where will it end, this relentless upward spiral of scenery, villainy, and babery? I suspect on the Moon, with Mark savagely beating Kim Jong-Il while remaining strangely indifferent to the charms of Olivia Wilde or somebody. Because Mark can best any villain anywhere, but he shrinks from female contact, as shown in panel two.

Mary Worth, 3/5/11

Driven mad by the Internet, Dawn Weston seeks comfort from her only true friend — that pregnant lady from her Dad’s eating-disorders support group who moved to Charterstone after her retirement and divorce last October. Aaack!

Marmaduke, 3/5/11

From the look of the leftovers, Marmaduke has eaten several sports teams, Mary Poppins, a NASCAR pit crew, neighbor Snyder, and the cop sent to investigate.

Spider-Man, 3/5/11

Yes, vampirism — the only possible explanation! Because seriously — it’s 4:45, and why else would Peter miss The View?

See how quickly Mary Jane rejects the obvious “My husband is a worthless layabout!” in favor of the dramatic “My husband has been overcome by the forces of darkness!” Acting has really honed her denial skills.

Hi! I’m sitting in this week while Josh is on vacation. If you have any site or comment trouble, contact me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net. Email sent to bio@jfruh.com will still get to Josh, but he won’t read it, because, you know, vacation.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Blondie, 3/3/11

There’s something I’m profoundly missing about today’s Blondie. Mostly, I’m completely befuddled as to what un-thought-ballooned thoughts we’re supposed to understand to be ruminating in the minds of the two characters in the second panel of this strip. Presumably it’s something that makes panel three funny, or at least makes it make sense. Is barber M. Morelli’s weirdly prominent nameplate relevant somehow? Is Dagwood pausing because he believes his dictatorial boss, whose spies are everywhere, might be listening in on him at this very moment? Perhaps he fears that the huge, unbroken pane of glass is a one-way mirror that Mr. Dithers is hiding on the other side of, seething.

Judge Parker, 3/3/11

Oh, look, the demonization of the latest female Judge Parker guest star is proceeding apace! Our formerly pleasant college student suddenly has turned hard-faced and cruel, as she pushes forward with marketing Judge Parker’s terrible thriller despite the death of her boss. Will we find out that Constance literally threw her boss under the bus? Will Constance’s plot end violently, and in turn become fodder for another Judge Parker book, which will be promoted by yet another murderess? I think I’m beginning to understand why the publishing world is in so much trouble.

Apartment 3-G, 3/3/11

Ha ha, I love Trey’s look of fish-lipped horror in panel two as he processes the phrase “life and stuff.” “My God, I thought he was just a rough-around-the-edges working-class guy, but no, he really is quite stupid.”

Mark Trail, 3/3/11

Oh my God, Mark’s been separated from his razor and is starting to show signs of a beard! HE’S BECOME WHAT HE HATES THE MOST.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/3/11

Oh, hey, and someone tried to hire June Morgan as a stripper! So there’s that.

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Mark Trail, 2/28/11

“His name is Mark Trail and he is American.” God, has any phrase ever been so perfectly calculated to make your proud to be from the U.S. — or, if you aren’t from the U.S, to make you ashamed for being a filthy foreigner who can’t vote for the same President that Mark Trail votes for? (Mark Trail casts his ballot with his fist, so that there’s never any question of “voter intent”.) My heart was so swelled with patriotism upon reading this that I almost missed the insane implication that underlies this statement, namely that Mark somehow drifted in his small boat to another country, an exotic tropical island inhabited by white people. Who are these mysterious tribeswomen? Why have they dragged Mark back to their home rather than seeking medical attention for that festering black wound on his forehead? What oppressive regime causes them to fear being discovered in even this half-assed act of kindness? Why does Mark keep an autographed photo of his wife in his wallet? Is it in case he forgets her name, or forgets which of the baffling and terrifying females in his life he’s married to?

Crock, 2/28/11

God help me, I have to say that I like almost everything about this Crock strip. I like the way the camel is drawn to some kind of realistic scale, dwarfing the bartender and all the human-sized furniture in the strip. I like his nonviolent but apparently extremely effective threat to slobber all over our speciesist barkeep. But mostly I like the dialogue-less third panel, in which the camel grins at us triumphantly, with the telltale cartoon bubbles over his head indicating that he’s already well on his way to being drunk. Kudos to you, my soused desert-dwelling friend!

B.C., 2/28/11

Today’s B.C. accidentally raises an interesting question about primitive societies: in tiny early hominid bands — there can’t be more than, what, 10 named characters in the entire B.C. universe, right? — where everyone knew each other intimately, could much of what we think of as crime ever happen?

Apartment 3-G, 2/28/11

Ha, it’s only Monday and Margo is already getting lit. There’s a number of ways this story can end — in recriminations, in violence, in oversharing — and all of them are delicious.