Post Content

Mark Trail, 2/11/05

Is anyone else painfully disappointed that this Mark Trail adventure is about to abruptly end thanks to an oh-so-convenient passing helicopter, and will apparently not feature Mark fighting off vicious sharks armed only with his encyclopedic understanding of sea life and his bare fists? Instead, it looks like we’ll get a quick flight back to shore, followed by the arrests of some coke-smugglin’ no-goodniks. B-o-o-ring!

On the other hand, our incredulous (or perhaps all-too-credulous) helicopter pilot seems to think Mark is being held close to the surface of the sea by some supernatural force; perhaps he’ll mistake the outdoorsman for Christ Himself. If word gets out, there’s no telling how Mark, drunk with power, will exploit his legions of followers. Perhaps there’s hope for my harem-of-polo-shirted-women idea yet.

Speaking of polo shirts, this strip also features sign #293 that Mark Trail is not drawn by a gay man (or, if it is, then by a gay man with a good deal of restraint): despite the fact that he’s soaking wet, Mark’s shirt is singularly failing to cling to his rugged, manly physique in a provocative manner.

Post Content

I admit to having been slack over the past few days, forcing you to hit Refresh on your browser over and over again, hoping to see a new post here and being mocked by an ad for Comics Curmudgeon tchotchkes. (An offer almost nobody has taken up, incidentally. Come on, don’t you know that everyone will worship you like a new god if you wear a “More zippers, mule!” t-shirt?) To make it up to you, I offer you not one, not two, but three fresh comics for today.

B.C., 2/1/05

I don’t think Jesus likes that punchline very much, Johnny. Also, I don’t really get the grandpa angle of the joke, nor the being-hip angle. If you’re going to set up this joke — and, I need to emphasize, I really don’t think you should — then you could probably find a better way to go about doing it.

Luann, 2/1/05

To my mind, this is the funniest Luann in weeks. It’s also evidence that a strip doesn’t need to have a punchline per se to be funny. Things I like about it: Brad casually saying “Whatev.” (complete with period) while raising one eyebrow, in panel one; T.J. solemnly offering a box of Oreos to Brad’s grave; the poem on Brad’s imaginary tombstone (you probably can’t read it in this graphic, but it reads “Brad DeGroot/ Ran out of luck/ Fell in love/ Forgot to duck); and the fact that T.J. hasn’t felt the need to dress up for his visit to the graveyard.

T.J. appears to have an earing, something I never noticed before. You’ll also notice that he’s entirely mum on the subject of dealing with sexual pressure.

Mark Trail, 2/1/05

Never mind the thrashing around, Mark; maybe you should STOP SHOUTING! I swear, if I were a shark, I’d eat him just to shut him up.

Post Content

Faithful readers, the day you’ve been waiting for pretty much your whole lives is here. Now, thanks to the good people at CafePress.com, you can purchase high-quality shirts and mugs with your favorite bizarre and incomprehensible quotes from the daily comics. First up is are t-shirts commemorating the catchphrase that swept the nation after it was bellowed at Margo, Apartment 3-G’s enslaved brunette:

Next are some shirts that salute north-of-the-border jive talk from For Better Or For Worse. If you wear this shirt, your friends and school will know that you’re no foob:

And finally, enjoy a little stimulation with your morning coffee when you drink out of a mug adorned with one of Mark Trail’s pearls of pharmacological wisdom:

Act fast if you like these: since I’m too cheap to upgrade beyond the free version of CafePress.com’s story, I can only have one graphic per type of shirt, so I will probably be rotating in new stuff as it comes up. To see what these images would look like actually on the products themselves (and, of course, to buy said products) just visit the Comics Curmudgeon store at http://www.cafepress.com/joshreads. Remember, every penny of profit goes to help pay for my bandwidth costs, and, if I cover that, to help pay for my sweet, sweet booze.