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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.

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People! Normally, I don’t bother you with metaposts mid-week, but I’ve received a bevy of Mark Trail related delights from readers over the past few weeks that I feel deserve their own showcase!

First up is a book discovered by faithful reader Charterstoned:

Note that it’s Mark Trail’s Fishing Tips Created By Ed Dodd, with the actual authorship left vague. Presumably this book was churned out by strip creator Dodd’s lowly assistant, while Dodd partied till all hours with Hollywood big shots.

This is clearly the high point of the whole book, in which an innocent young boy cringes in terror at the approach of a menacing weirdo in a hat. Don’t worry, kid; he just wants your gum … for now.

Also, you can tell the difference between the various almost-identical kinds of catfish you catch, assuming that counting the number of rays on on a dead, smelly fish’s fins is your idea of a good time.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Mark Trail without a freakishly oversized animal. Fishing dude who may or may not be Mark is so smug about his little pie-pan trick that he doesn’t even notice the giant carnivorous moth that’s about to latch onto his face.

Meanwhile, faithful reader Jasper Jinks sends a couple of scans from a 1956 Mark Trail comic book put out by the U.S. Public Health Service.

An “industrial problem” that’s “being licked all over America by plain citizens, working together at the local level for everyone’s benefit”? Translation: Mark Trail is a dirty communist. A dirty communist in terrifying jodhpurs.

The plot of this tract involves a rotten little kid who gets a little under the weather after swimming in a watering hole containing industrial run-off from some awesomely profitable factory. Here’s a scene of the crazed Marxist lynch mob Mark puts together to put a stop to progress. Note that Mark is clenching his fist in case political agitation fails and he needs to punch pollution out of the water:

Of course, seeing old Mark Trails like this makes one wonder how similar they are to the current version. Well, a lot more than you might think! Faithful reader These Strange Worlds has put together an exhaustive comparison showing how much of the current storyline is recycled from one that ran 30 years ago.

And, finally, fans of Mark Trail and making fun of Mark Trail should check out Mark Stale. “What’s wrong, Rusty? Why are you lying awake, whimpering like a baby?” (Thanks to faithful reader festoonic for the tip.)

Oh, also, if you are going to be in the mid-Atlantic region over the weekend of May 22, perhaps you will want to get in on a meetup faithful reader bourbon babe is planning? Certain bloggers who live in that neck of the woods will in all probability make an appearance! (HINT HINT)