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Mark Trail, 7/26/10

Ha ha, dognapper! Mark Trail and Officer Murphy have used technological wizardry to track your ransom call back to your home! Dognapping being a crime of the most heinous nature, they don’t need any warrant from any fancy judge in order to rip your house to pieces looking for the poor mutt! In fact, since this is a “ticking time bomb” scenario (who knows what horrors he has planned for that dog, or for America?), they’re well within their rights to torture you, by letting loose that horrifying demon-thing at the lower left of panel two! Let’s take a closer look at this gap-toothed, bug-eyed monster, shall we?

Yes, we can see why you wouldn’t want this little demon in your house, screeching and clawing at the faces of your wife and family. But I guess you should have thought about that before you became a crime suspect, crime suspect!

Apartment 3-G, 7/26/10

In panel three, it’s clear that Tommie has become far too accustomed to the abuse that everyone heaps upon her, as it appears that she’s decided to save everyone a lot of time and just punch herself in the face.

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Mary Worth, 7/18/10

All you whippersnappers out there, finding love on the so-called “Internet”: Does Match.com provide this level of service? Does it provide a bony, leathery shoulder to cry on after your date fails to follow up a little light beach dancing with nonstop attention? Does it provide rock-solid references and assurances about the character of your potential inamorata, based on about ten minutes of awkward, twitchy conversation? Does it promise to pursue that caddish failure of a human being to the depths of hell itself if necessary to make him love you?

The final panel of this strip shows the proper attitude to take towards a cell phone that might at any moment attempt to broadcast Mary Worth’s voice at you. Hold it at arm’s length, watch it warily, and hurl it as far away as you can at the first sign of trouble.

Mark Trail, 7/18/10

Look, kids, if you get eaten by a bear or shark, don’t come crying to Mark, OK? These majestic beasts don’t follow your so-called human “morality” or “law.” This may be Mark’s own way of justifying his insatiable desire to punch hairy people; his violent actions are governed entirely by instinct, and have no more relation to an ethical code than a skunk’s spraying.

Panels from Apartment 3-G, 7/18/10

Oh, God, it’s even more delightful than I could have imagined! I particularly like Lu Ann regarding that bottle of delicious, delicious gin with her eyes crossed. Can we just jettison the whole makeover plot and get two weeks of “Margo and Lu Ann get blotto”?

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Mark Trail, 7/15/10

Not since Rusty claimed that he “just put a new memory card” into his 1953 Leica camera has there been a Mark Trail that more hilariously mashes together decades-old repurposed art and writing with the vague sense that the existence of so-called “modern technology” should probably acknowledged. For the love of God, Mark, why are you paying $2.99 a minute or whatever madness the local Motel 6 is going to charge for use of their in-room telephone when you’re talking on a cell phone right now — a cell phone that, if it’s like every other cell phone sold in the last eight years, has a built-in caller ID feature? Is he one of those paranoids who doesn’t give out his cell number to strangers, because that would allow them to steal his precious bodily fluids? Does Mark’s Junior Illegal Wiretapping And Phone-Call Tracing Kit only work with landlines?

Gil Thorp, 7/15/10

Well, I guess we all owe Coach Thorp an apology, because it turns out his “Let’s run six miles around the golf course!” idea from yesterday was a joke, just a joke, heh heh heh, no, obviously I know how to coach golf, OK? Why else would they be paying me? They are paying me, right? Anyway, it appears that this summer’s dramatic conflict will come from the thought-ballooned antics of this surly teen golf prodigy, and honestly I can’t even imagine four more boring words in the English language than “surly teen golf prodigy,” I almost fell asleep just typing them.

Pluggers, 7/15/10

Most of the people I know are not pluggers, and none of them enjoy actually being tickled. Thus, I’m going to assume that “front tickle” is a plugger euphemism for sex, putting this one firmly in the Pluggers “there are a whole lot of things pluggers would rather do than be sexually intimate with their spouses” file, which is depressingly large.