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Holy crap, a guy can’t get out of town for two days without all hell breaking loose on the comics pages. There’s way too much going on to leave unremarked until I get back from Bermuda, so here’s the wrap-up.

Mary Worth, 2/20–21/05

OK, so Dr. Brian was apparently wracked by so much pent-up lust after being constantly interrupted in his two-week quest to pop the question to Anna that, once he finally managed to spit it out, they flew directly to Vegas, checked into whatever sordid, jaundice-walled hotel is across the street from “Plaza,” got hitched, and then headed for their lumpy, overstarched nuptial bed the very next day. This is without doubt the fastest that anything has happened in Mary Worth, though the fact that they’re flying back home in the next day’s strip may indicate that something else happened a little too fast, too. (OK, that’s a cheap shot, but I have to work out my anger about the loathsome “bedside manner” foreplay talk somehow.) Anyway, Monday’s strip features some Mark Trail-style talking scenery and what appears to be the traditional post-coital arm-wrestling match.

Apartment 3-G, 2/18/05, 2/20–21/05

Meanwhile, in Apartment 3-G, not only does Tommie get two panels all to herself, but we also learn an important truth: good mothers are involved in their teenage daughters’ roadside activities, while bad ones live in vans in other people’s driveways. I can’t wait to find out what particular set of van-focused scriptures Mim’s mom uses as her guide to life. This sequence also features two classic Margo assertions: that parking-poor Manhattan is thankfully impervious to Lu Ann’s sister’s peculiar brand of driveway-based spirituality, and that being nice to people is really, really hard, especially when you have to give up your couch to do it. You can see that the effort involved in showing compassion is so great that it’s making her eyes point in different directions.

And, finally, over in Mark Trail…

Mark Trail, 2/18/05

“What you said is wrong! I dispute what you said! My lawyers will force you to show some sort of what-you-said evidence! Damn you, Trail!”

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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.

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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.