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Mark Trail, 8/17/09

What we’re witnessing, as this Mark Trail storyline reaches its baffling denouement, is a master class in outdoorsmanship. Who once said “The pen is mightier than the sword”? Probably some wimpy writer type who got tired of being threatened by bullies with swords and then went home and bitterly scribbled that supposedly bad-ass saying in his little journal, with a pen. But what Mark Trail is showing us is that a level head and the ability to navigate your way out of an old-growth forest is mightier than a high-powered rifle. Mark’s steely pathfinding will lull the assassin into complacency, and once they see the light of day outside these accursed woods again, he will presumably be so grateful as to meekly submit to being punched in the jaw.

Herb and Jamaal, 8/17/09

I’m as surprised as anyone to discover that I have a “favorite” kind of Herb and Jamaal strip, but this is it: the kind where one of the strip’s bland supporting characters says something incredibly depressing that forces Herb and/or Jamaal to stop living in his happy-go-lucky dreamworld of nonspecific cultural references and confront his own mortality with wide-eyed horror. I’m not sure if it’s ever actually happened before, but I’d like it to happen more often in the future.

Marvin, 8/17/09

Please let that be a clean diaper. Please let that be a clean diaper.

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Mark Trail, 8/16/09

Ah, there’s nothing more relaxing in your Sunday Mark Trail than seeing terrified horses running from an all-consuming inferno! This week’s edutaining Sunday strip reminds me of why I find Smokey the Bear so unsettling, which is because he’s wearing pants and no shirt. I can sort of see the chain of logic that got clothes on him in the first place — they had to put the hat on him to show that he was a forest ranger, and then once that happened he was a little too anthropomorphized to get away with no pants; I just don’t understand why the thought process stopped there. Surely there’s some sort of snappy uniform shirt they could have put on him? Because as it is he sort makes me think that forest rangers used to lounge around their fire towers shirtless, like slobs, which makes me glad that they all got fired due to budget cuts and replaced by people calling on their cell phones and saying “Hey, is this the government? I, uh, I think your forest is on fire.”

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/17/09

I’ve been avoiding talking about Rex Morgan because I or someone I love losing their memory and forgetting who all their loved ones are is one of my very worst nightmares; and so, grasping at straws, I’m willing to accept this half-hearted conversation as a sign that we’re getting back to what I thought this storyline was all about, which is to say adultery, and suspicions of adultery. Normally I don’t root for uninteresting, semi-attractive people to flirt in the comics, but if it takes panel time away from “I don’t know who I am or where I am and I think I’m married to this person who isn’t my husband, ha ha,” then I’m all for it.

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Dick Tracy, 8/13/09

OK, when I see “cutting” bandied about as a noun like this, I think immediately about people who self-harm. However, it’s obvious that Dick Tracy lacks the depression, self-doubt, vulnerability, and ability to feel emotional pain of any sort for that to be what he’s proposing; plus, he’s offering the suggestion with an unseemly amount of enthusiasm. Therefore, I can only assume that he’s actually planning to perform an impromptu autopsy on our poor dead trapeze artist, right there on the floor of the Big Top. “The sawdust will easily absorb the blood!”

Oh by the way, Dick, IT WAS THE CLOWN THAT DID IT. THE CLOWN WITH THE SOULFUL, SHIFTY EYES. HE KILLED HER. AND SENT THE NOTE. JUST FYI.

Mark Trail, 8/13/09

It’s now clear that we can’t refer to this gun-toting, orange-clad individual as an assassin, or even as a hit man, but nevertheless I’m beginning to really sort of be in awe of him. You have to respect the years of weapons training it must have taken for him to master the craft of not quite killing people. I wonder if every day he picks up his gun and shakes his head and thinks, “Thank goodness this rifle is in my capable hands. If you didn’t know what you were doing, you could really hurt someone with this!”

Crankshaft, 8/13/09

Since Cranksaft is, as near as I can tell, standing at floor level, I’m not sure whose perspective the first panel is supposed to be drawn from. One of the garden club ladies who drank too much gin and quietly slumped out of her front row seat onto the floor? The cheering throngs gathered in the public square to look up in adulation at their gardener-dictator giving a speech from a balcony, a scenario that frequently plays out in Crankshaft’s mind? Meanwhile, panel three is definitely one of the scariest things I’ve seen this week, and replicating or even approximating it in real life would probably loosen the tongues of everyone from the perps down at central booking to al Qaeda masterminds. “NO, NOT CRANKSHAFT! I’LL TELL YOU THE REAL ANSWER! JUST DON’T LET HIM NEAR ME!”

Ziggy, 8/13/09

If you’re going to be claiming ownership over sentient beings, Ziggy, perhaps you ought not to have acquired so many of them. You can wave paperwork around all you want, but why should you expect them to respect any system of law that perpetuates their enslavement? The grim expressions make it clear that a bloody revolt is in the offing, with each animal using its particular skills in the cause of their collective freedom. You don’t even want to know what that angry little fish is going to do to you.

(Psst! Interested in seeing a piece I did on various computers in various vehicles?)