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Mark Trail, 5/4/10

Oh ho ho, women, am I right, everybody? First they’re all like “Oh, we’re married, we should maybe spend more than six days a year together,” then when you agree to stick around, they’re scooting off to have themselves professionally groomed, because they just hang around the house looking like a slob when you’re not there! Who can understand ’em?

The best part of this strip is how happy Cherry’s dad looks in the second panel to get a little Mark time in. “Say, Mark, we don’t really get much opportunity to chat, so while she’s off at the beauty parlor, why don’t we…” “No, Cherry! Don’t leave me alone with him!”

Hi and Lois, 5/4/10

Is Hi’s face covered with bruises? I guess that’s just to show you that when men gossip, they do it in a manly way — at a bar, after drunkenly punching each other in the face.

Spider-Man, 5/4/10

Super-heroics update! While the sinister Sabretooth disarmed a police officer and fled, our hero nestled his face into his wife’s ample bosom and muttered semi-coherent nonsense. THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN, EVERYBODY!

The Wizard of Id, 5/4/10

Wow, this strip sure is on the cutting edge of social commentary! Yes, sir, the times sure are changing, if by “the times” we mean “the times forty years ago!” But, whatever, women, am I right?

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Beetle Bailey, 5/2/10

Beetle Bailey’s recent flirtation with self-referential absurdism has in fact led logically to this. All the references to the misty origins of the strip — you may not have known that upon launch Beetle Bailey was a college-humor strip, until the title character abruptly quit school and joined the army a year into its run — are here systematically dismantled. His long-forgotten girlfriend has found love with another, his ancient jalopy has been sold to a classic car collector, and his room at his parents’ has had all traces of his presence eliminated. With all ties to his former life finally cut after sixty years of basic training, Beetle is finally ready to ship out to one of the various war zones, where he will presumably die in a hail of bullets almost immediately, due to his incompetence.

Mark Trail, 5/2/10

Way to bring everyone down, Mark. “Look at this adorable little mouse, washing its face with its hands, OMG SO CUTE! Later, it was ground to bits in a mechanical thresher.”

Panels from Mary Worth, 5/2/10

LIES LIES OH MY GOODNESS SO MANY LIES

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Mark Trail, 4/30/10

I know it doesn’t really pay to contemplate the economics of comic strips too deeply, but in these days when newspapers and magazines are cutting full-time staff, cutting back on freelance fees, and trying to smooth-talk eager “new media” types into blogging for free, how exactly is it that Mark and the Trail family have remained solvent? We’ve never even seen him file a story, since when he’s supposed to be writing he inevitably becomes involved in some fisticuff-heavy derring-do that would leave him unable to write with the kind of rigorous objectivity that the strict editorial staff of Woods and Wildlife demands.

What I’m trying to say, Cherry, is that unless your dad holds some kind of valuable patent on a powerful animal tranquilizer, Mark is going to have to scurry off over and over again to afford you the kind of elaborate lifestyle you enjoy, with all the pricey mom jeans and what not. “Oh, Bill Ellis! I’d better go to New York and see what he has to say!” “But Mark, you just said…” “Not now, honey. Bill Ellis needs me!”

Apartment 3-G, 4/30/10

While we all appreciate a good episode of Margo berating and humiliating Lu Ann, might I tentatively point out that Mills Gallery is broke, and that Lu Ann’s cheesy watercolors lend themselves perfectly to cheesy holiday cards (“Happy Fernmas, from the Mills Gallery”), the markup on which is presumably substantial? Jack used to be adamant about not “lowering our standards,” but the harsh reality of the modern art world has forced him into crass marketing. But whatever, Margo is suddenly all about purity of artistic vision now. All of Lu Ann’s bougie prints will be dumped in the back alley in short order — representational art went out in the fucking 19th century, kids — and the gallery space will be given over to a series of challenging and unmarketable performance artists. First up will be Tommie with a wrenching multimedia piece entitled Why Won’t Anybody Talk To Me Why Why Why.

Family Circus, 4/30/10

To nobody’s surprise, Jeffy’s breath carries the awful stench of death.