Archive: Mark Trail

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Beetle Bailey, 3/1/09

Sometimes people complain about the mishmosh of anachronisms and inaccuracies that make up the military uniforms in Beetle Bailey, to which I respond: check out what happens when the artists try to draw any other form of clothing. While most of these outfits are rendered with equal parts lazy and terrible (and I long to hear faithful reader Fashion Police’s take on them), I feel must I draw particular attention to Rocky, slouching there smack dab in the middle of this grid of awfulness. While I suppose I am not an authority on what constitutes “urban hip,” I feel that I can with some certainty give examples of what “urban hip” is not, and here is one: an oversized, untucked, bright red waistcoat, worn over what appears to be a white t-shirt with a single, incomprehensible button at the collar.

Zero’s bit of hanky code, meanwhile, is neither to be asked about nor told of.

Family Circus, 3/1/09

More proof that the Keane Kids are unnatural demon-children. “AAGGGGH! The yellow face, it BURNS!”

Mark Trail, 3/1/09

Another example of how the top row of throwaway panels can subtly alter a strip’s dynamics. Without them, today’s Mark Trail is just a charming story of poisonous plants and early biological warfare. But with the mention of the poisonous plants growing in your yard, this becomes a manual for a guerilla army. “So remember, kids, when the invaders come to your town, you’ll have a weapon ready to strike back at them even after they confiscate everybody’s firearms. Wolverines!”

Mary Worth, 3/1/09

Ted has finally and officially been outed as a cad by his cheapskate thought balloon in today’s final panel. I’m sure we’ll have much more delicious character assassination to enjoy over the coming weeks, but today I want to dwell briefly on just how damn pleased with himself Jeff looks as he bellows out his offer to pick up the check. Presumably everyone in his family just views him as a giant talking wallet, and he’s internalized that and is now just desperate to please in the only way he knows how.

Panel from the Phantom, 3/1/09

While Spider-Man’s narration box is acknowledged as the sassiest of superhero narration boxes, the Phantom’s is no slouch. I was particularly impressed by this atmospheric and semi-comprehensible offering today. It sounds like the latest underground hip-hop album to hit the street (though I leave to the reader to determine whether “Day of Reckoning” should be the artist name and Through the Eyes of a Thug the album title, or vice versa).

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Marvin, 2/28/09

If you had told me, way back in July of 2004 when I was starting this blog, that there would come a time when I would feel obligated to parse drawings of toddlers running around completely pantsless, I would have have immediately shut down my crude Blogger.com account and turned to a more worthwhile and ennobling pursuit, like philately or house-flipping. And if you had told me yesterday that there could be something more terrifying than seeing Marvin’s genitals, I would have laughed at you, and yet here is the proof: more terrifying than seeing Marvin’s genitals is not seeing Marvin’s genitals where his genitals are supposed to be, and glimpsing only some kind of unbroken, Ken doll-like smoothness instead. Now let us never speak of this again.

Mark Trail, 2/28/09

Oh, everyone who feared that Ken would not receive his narrative comeuppance for slapping around his wife and then trying to kill her beloved pet: Ken is very much about to receive his narrative comeuppance. A frightened, dangerous Bucky is about to literally run headlong into the economically ravaged abuser, with his antlers conveniently sawed to razor sharpness by Mark. I’ve long felt that what this strip really needs to compete in today’s entertainment market is more humans being killed or mutilated by the animals they’ve wronged, so I’m really looking forward to next week.

Dick Tracy, 2/28/09

Speaking of people being killed or mutilated, Dick Tracy once again proves that all’s well that end’s well horribly. Tess’s face in the second panel offers particular insight into what her marriage must be like. “Oh, God, he’s going to make a pun about Angelorious’s agonizing death, isn’t he? Wait for it … yep, there it is.”

Marmaduke, 2/28/09

“As well he should, since the Dread Lords of the Outer Darkness have appointed him Demon-King to rule over Earth. Oh … oh God DON’T LOOK DIRECTLY AT HIM!”

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Mark Trail, 2/25/09

So the whole Lost Forest patriarchy is trying to convince Patty to forget about her special deer friend and learn to love life with her poor, innocent, economically stressed, angry, abusive husband, but she will persevere! No matter how long she has to wander through the forest, searching, always searching … OH NO! THAT’S BUCKY! And he’s … just sort of chilling in a clearing … gently nudging horns with some other deer … and this is OH NO! worthy because … ? Maybe rubbing antlers together is the deer equivalent of a gay makeout. And so, with her husband a slap-happy menace, and her be-antlered secret boyfriend secretly preferring the company of other be-antlered deer, I think it’s clear that Patty will finally go completely over the edge, which should provide us with an exciting new world of terrifying, inhuman facial expressions.

Mary Worth, 2/25/09

Wait … they met on a Santa Royale fan club site? Jesus, I knew the Internet was full of the worst kind of filth, but even I couldn’t imagine that anyone would provide Web hosting space for that kind of depravity at any price. I sincerely hope that these boards are carefully monitored by FBI agents who will capture these perverts and send them to dark, dank holes where they can never again bother decent people.

Dick Tracy, 2/25/09

Today’s Dick Tracy, like yesterday’s, really opens more questions than it answers. If your eyes are melting down your cheeks after you’ve had acid thrown in your face, do you magically gain the power to see behind you as some sort of compensation? Has any human anywhere ever said “The weather is closing in” and expected anyone else to know what it meant? I had a third question ready — will the two cars in the final panel collide, causing the painful mangling of flesh and bones? — but then I realized that, hey, this is Dick Tracy, I know the answer to that one.

Blondie, 2/25/09

Look, Dagwood, if you want to live out some kind of cuckolding fantasy, you’re going to have to just come out and say it.