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Mark Trail, 6/18/05

Has Jack Elrod gone soft? I’ve been saving Mark Trail for what I was sure would be the climactic, triumphant punch today, and instead I get more standin’ around and jawin’. Goddamn it, Elrod, I want fisticuffs! Maybe the middle panel is supposed to be symbolic: just as the crafty squirrel escapes from the mighty hawk to chew nuts adorably another day, so Crane avoids the righteous right hook of justice for now. At least we get another couple good looks at Bob’s stupid little orange hat, though, which I just can’t get enough of.

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Mark Trail, 5/24/05

Sadly, it looks as if the current painfully stupid storyline in Mark Trail is going to be resolved not by Mark’s quick fists and utter disregard for the constitutional rights of the accused, but by his tedious and pedestrian knowledge of natural phenomena, which in this case has been augmented by his ownership of a mail-order magnifying glass. Gosh, them magpies sure do like shiny things! Thank goodness they’re probably just flying in great squawking flocks around the collar, rather than, say, picking it up and hoarding it in a nest somewhere. If there were any justice in this world, the birds would be laying an elaborate trap for Mark, luring him to the distant clearing, far from human help, before descending on him and visiting a horrible, painful death upon him with their razor-sharp beaks. The freakishly large woodland animals would look on in silent approval in the foreground.

Meanwhile, check out the funky shading on Mark’s manly, rugged jawline in panel one. Compare to the faces of the dead-eyed zombie sherriff and the insane old hermit from earlier installments:

Looks like somebody got some kind of Acme Shadow-Drawing Kit™ for Christmas!

In shameless hucksterism news, Mike Donovan, who was one of the very first people to ever link to me, is TCC’s latest merchandise model:

Don’t let the visible creases dissuade you from buying this high-quality item of clothing, folks: they come out with just a few hours of vigorous ironing.

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Mary Worth, 5/19/05

Mark Trail, 5/19/05

It’s like they’re trying to taunt me. I mean, these two strips routinely move at the speed of a glacier; but somehow, in what seems like it should be a contradiction of all known laws of time and space, in the past few weeks or so they’ve become even slower. Seemingly every twist in this Mark Trail plot that might result in some drama gets nipped in the bud; meanwhile, Mary and Jeff are out at sea, cut off from all external stimuli, with the rest of the world fading out into the background: it’s like Waiting for Godot, except instead of the two of them engaging in absurdist philosophical banter, Mary is just reeling off platitude after platitude while Jeff looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, possible with a gun at his temple.

So, because the comics are being recalcitrant today, I offer a few funny sentences that I’ve thought up here and there and have been trying to figure out how to wedge into a blog post. I hope you enjoy them in this noncontextualized form.

• It’s not like it’s the most the subtle movie in the world, you know? I mean, I was only seven, but still, I was thinking, “Mom, the guy dressed in black leather and the mask that looks like a skull who keeps strangling people with his mind? Not a good guy.”
• It’s the sort of place that looks like it would sell CDs with names like This Is How We Do It, Volume 6: Best of Flemish 160 BPM DJs, 1997-1999.
• So we’ve seen Margo with her hair up, and with her hair down, but you notice we never see her putting it up? That’s because it would take about an hour, which would translate to about seven dozen strips, not counting hairpins.