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Mark Trail, 3/18/09

Thank goodness Mark Trail has given up on its attempts to depict all-too-realistic and depressing human behavior and is going back to its bread and butter: attempting to depict hilarious and completely incomprehensible human behavior. Because the following list of activities is in order of increasing conspicuousness, obviously:

• Two dudes hanging around in a restaurant in broad daylight, drinking coffee and wearing hideously colored shirts.
• Two adults accosting a child they don’t know and offering obscene sums of money buy his camera.
• Two random people appearing in the background of a terribly composed picture, which will be printed automatically from a machine and put into a sad little scrapbook by a neglected orphan who lives in the woods and has no friends.

Luann, 3/18/09

OK, so Luann is clearly never going to give us less of … this, so from here on in, I want more. More, do you hear me? The only way this strip’s never-ending stream of queasy sexuality will become palatable to me is if it just goes completely over the top, turning the whole thing into some ludicrously repulsive French sex farce. I want to see Mrs. DeGroot seducing TJ for information (“TJ, I can’t stop thinking about the other day in the bathroom … but my fantasies would be so much hotter if I knew what you did for a living!”). I want to see Brad accidentally invite Toni to dinner at an S&M club (“Gosh, I thought that meant they served salad and macaroni!”). I want to see Bernice arrange a tryst between her soldier brother and Delta — and then retreat back to her room to watch via the hidden cameras and masturbate furiously. I want to see Gunther at the San Diego FurCon ’09 after-party, grinning bashfully while being serviced by dozens of obedient piggies. I want to see Luann and Elwood … no, wait, never mind, even I have my limits.

Hi and Lois, 3/18/09

Sunday’s neglect-o-thon made the case for a Child Protective Services visit to the Flagston residence, and today that case just got a little bit stronger. As Trixie sits alone in the middle of the floor, surrounded by scattered toys, she notes that her family “disappears” every day, but doesn’t mention anything about anyone coming to her house in their place.

Curtis, 3/18/09

Barry is right to be concerned. Curtis does not have the right attitude to find much financial success as a prostitute.

Ziggy, 3/18/09

Even Ziggy’s computer is repulsed by his sexual advances.

Pluggers, 3/18/09

Sure, they eventually put on the belt, go to their soul-killing jobs, then come home and eat pizza and drink beer in front of the TV until they doze off; but for most pluggers, that moment in the morning when they contemplate suicide is, perversely, the high point of their day.

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Mark Trail, 3/11/09

With each passing day, it becomes harder for me to imagine going back to my vision of Mark Trail as a lovable idiot savant who loves nature and punching smugglers; now he will forever be known as an abuse enabler, ready to stoke the fires of domestic violence hell for women who dare to enter their husbands’ field of vision when he’s having business troubles, just has he’s literally stoking the fires in his fireplace in panel two. I’m sure looking forward to seeing that magazine story, the thesis of which will be “Ladies! If you’re thinking about keeping a wild animal as a pet, get some advice, or you’re gonna get beat up!” Hopefully it will be published in Cosmo, the better to reach its target audience of women, rather than in Mark’s usual wildlife magazine, which is read by nobody.

The only faint glimmer of hope is that Ken and Patty are apparently going to adopt their baby — or rather, will apply to adopt a baby, and will be immediately turned down by the adoption agency when the terrifying dynamic of their relationship becomes obvious about thirty seconds into the home visit. I mean, that’s what’s going to happen, right? RIGHT? Oh, who am I kidding — this is Lost Forest! Probably the social worker will show up, note that Ken doesn’t have facial hair, check the medicine cabinet to make sure supplies of razors and shaving cream are adequate, and then hand over a squalling infant on the spot.

Marvin, 3/11/09

Normally, a couple lying in bed making comments like these about their privacy would be hinting not so subtly that they’re too self-conscious about having the relations within earshot of old people. However, these are Marvin’s parents; we know for certain that, once they saw the product of their coupling, they vowed to never, ever even think about having sex again.

Marmaduke, 3/11/09

Oh, you’ll be plenty warm … IN MARMADUKE’S STOMACH! Because he likes to eat people, you see.

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Mark Trail, 3/9/09

You know, I was really hoping that Mark would smugly return to his forest home today, so we could get started on the next storyline about poachers or whatever, and perhaps we could begin to forget the retrograde horror that has been the Ken and Patti plotline. But instead, things are getting even worse. Previously, Patti said something about not being able to have a baby, which I assumed meant that her womb had been blighted by the Lord in punishment for her occasionally having negative thoughts about the way her husband slapped her around; today, though, we learn that Ken has apparently been withholding his man-essence from her, but has now decided that it’s time he began reproducing himself. So, in an attempt to provide some sort of balanced view, let me just say this: BABIES DO NOT SOLVE MARITAL PROBLEMS. THEY EXACERBATE THEM. But unless the “tests” our nurse is about to run include a surreptitious vasectomy, it’s probably too late for our doomed couple.

Cleats, 3/9/09

Oh, look, Cleats is taking a break from its kid-friendly sports humor to introduce yet another terrifying demon-thing. Pray to God that it doesn’t turn around tomorrow, showing us the front of its grotesque, unnatural head.

Judge Parker, 3/9/09

“Interesting? Not really … wait, this is Judge Parker. ‘Interesting’ is code for ‘offering an opportunity for a hot lady to show off her breasts.’ So, yeah, I guess that is kind of interesting.”

Slylock Fox, 3/9/09

Koppy Kat’s bust made big headlines, but as a first-time offender, he was able to plea-bargain his sentence down to 18 months in minimum security, thanks to his agreement to discreetly help local museums determine which of their pieces were forgeries. (There were more than you’d think, and not all of them came out of Koppy’s workshop.) To the surprise of everyone, the experience scared him straight; upon his release, he embarked on a career as an art consultant, supplementing his income by churning out “Six Differences” puzzles. But that day’s bust had a just as big an effect on someone else: Max Mouse. As soon as he laid eyes on that unsettling psychedelic drawing of Mickey with one eye and one ear, he realized just how limited his worldview was, and he was immediately seized by a need to expand his consciousness however he could. Six months later, he had changed his name to “Maximum Spirit Voyager,” was living in a commune in New Mexico, and had taken more peyote than most doctors would have believed survivable.