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Mary Worth, 2/10/10

Mary Worth is well aware that its seemingly sure-fire fake-bastard-son plot is floundering into boredom, with most of the action involving people seething inwardly while they stare at computers. Thus, it’s necessary to bring out a narrative trump card: a hilarious and drunken old lady! Ah, Helen Clark! Still haven’t recovered emotionally from your party’s defeat in New Zealand’s 2008 general election, have you? With your face twisted with drink and the rage that comes from being interrupted in your drinking, staring down to into your tasty ketchup-and-Stoli cocktail, talking into your princess phone, which has no obvious cradle for the handset — you, madam, are a breath of fresh air, if by “fresh” one means “reeking of vodka,” and I for one most certainly do mean that.

Note that even in the midst of this exciting storytelling gambit, Dawn is still diddling around on the Internet, which I’m beginning to think is a result of the Mary Worth team either taking payola from the consortium of Chinese factories that manufacture all consumer electronics, or losing some kind of bet.

Mark Trail, 2/10/10

Mark Trail, on the other hand, doesn’t have to resort to any kind of gimmickry to keep our attention; this wacky fight scene is simultaneously the funniest thing on the comics page today and exactly what one might expect from this strip after yesterday’s slap-happy senatorial antics. It’s hard for me to even begin to decide which panel I like most. Is it panel one, in which Joe punches an elderly politician in the face while (in accordance with the iron-clad Code of the Forest) shunning contractions? Is it panel two, in which a squirrel observes these foolish humans and their violent dispute-resolution process with an inscrutable and disinterested eye? I may actually prefer panel three; Moe’s dialogue implies that we’ve got a vicious and possibly fatal beating in progress, but the art makes it look like he just wants a hug, just a little affection from Mark, is that too much to ask?

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Mark Trail, 2/9/10

OH, SNAP! The physical assault has begun in Mark Trail, and, since I didn’t cheat by reading ahead with These Strange Worlds, I’m actually pretty shocked that the initial perpetrator is not Joe (or possibly Moe) Parker, but rather this distinguished-looking senator, who isn’t so distinguished that he can’t slap an angry lake-bully with his pimp hand when he gets his dander up. Now, um, maybe this is how elected officials ran constituent services back in the ’70s, but I rather think that this was a poor tactical move on the senator’s part. Surely Moe (or possibly Joe) will be on Fox and/or MSNBC (depending the senator’s political affiliation) in short order, dishing up dirt, and blogs will be falling over each other to come up with “heavy handed” puns. At least there aren’t any cameras around to put the YouTube clip into heavy rotation.

Family Circus, 2/9/10

Once again, you’ve underestimated your brother’s idiocy, Dolly, as he’s actually brushed his teeth with peanut butter. You can see that he’s trying to come up with some retort, but hasn’t been able to pry his jaws apart yet.

Hi and Lois, 2/9/10

I kind of like Lois’s stunned expression; it implies that Chip just let loose with a blues number expressing a deep, existential sadness, the sort of dark, powerful emotion that his mother never even imagined possible, let alone that it might reside in her teenage son. Trixie, as ever, can think of nothing but shitting herself.

Hagar the Horrible, 2/9/10

“That’s because, after days being left hanging here, my shoulders have been terribly dislocated and will never heal properly! I’ll won’t be able to move my arms comfortably again for as long as I live! Ha ha, torture, amiright?”

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Mark Trail, 2/6/10

I may have missed this earlier, but it appears that the hilariously surnamed Parker brothers are hilariously named Moe and Joe. What whimsical parents they must have had, to give them rhyming names! Clearly the only way they had to rebel against their twee upbringing was to grow facial hair and generally dick it up out on the lake, with their big motors. Still, we can see a bit of their wacky heritage out on display in the rapid-fire shirt exchange they made between panels one and two, just for absurdist fun. Mark and Senator Hatcher just stand there with their hands manfully on their hips, their low-key masculinity offering a counterpoint to their desperate antics

In panel three, Joe, or possibly Moe, shows that he’s well acquainted with the most up-to-date way to effect political change, which is to buttonhole one of your elected officials and scream at him.

For Better For Worse, 2/6/10

FBOFW reruns are like comics methadone: not as good as the real thing, and yet I still can’t seem to taper off. I do enjoy them for their sociological insight into late ’70s/early ’80s Canada, anyway. Today we learn what the main characteristic of a dark, seedy Montreal jazz club of the era was: omnipresent menacing mustaches.

Marmaduke, 2/6/10

Come now, Marmaduke’s lovingly curated collection of human femurs is a work of art, not a mere job. I mean, I at least hope that nobody’s paying him for it.