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Mark Trail, 3/30/11

I’ll say this for Mark Trail: he makes no pretense of being acquainted with hip narcotics lingo, thus sparing him any rock vs. dope embarrassments. No, those squarish bales are just drugs of some kind, and that’s all he needs to know. Now he’s going to set it all on fire, which should be awesomely hilarious. Only Mark will avoid the contact high, by sheer force of rectitude.

Mary Worth, 3/30/11

“More to the point, how much longer are you going to be masturbating to my ‘men’s workout’ plausible-deniability porno mags? Damn it, I need those! They’re all I’ve got! You know Mary won’t let me use the Internet!”

Gil Thorp, 3/30/11

It’s come to our attention that nobody cares about the folksinger girl plot, and for some reason we feel obligated to do a musical plot, so here, here’s the exact same Slim Chance plot that happened last spring. Did you find that one tiresome after a few months? Well, too bad, it’s going to happen again.

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Mark Trail, 3/22/11

As Mark’s sojourn on the Island Of Drug Dealing And Also No Razor Blades continues and his stubble begins to sprout forth from his unwilling cheeks, this strip must, in order to maintain its rigid grooming morality, offer up villains with ever more outrageous facial hair. This handlebar-mustached fellow is hilarious enough, but once Mark is sporting a full-on beard, he’ll no doubt encounter the island’s kingpin, who will resemble a young Chester A. Arthur.

Mary Worth, 3/22/11

You probably read yesterday’s Mary Worth and thought, “Gee, what could be more unsettling than grown woman Dawn Weston lounging around her pretty-princess bedroom and clutching her teddy bear like a little girl?” Well, today you get your answer: Dawn talking about how much she loves her dad while her teddy bear’s eyes suddenly pop open in arousal/terror.

Apartment 3-G, 3/22/11

“Flying in from Colorado?? We both know that no real place has ever been given such an outlandish name! To say nothing of the laughable proposition that a man might fly through the air like a bird.”

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Guys, when I’m away from the comics for a while, I need to dive back into the warm, welcoming arms of my first comics-mocking love: the soap strips. Let’s catch up together, shall we?

Mary Worth, 3/15/11

I don’t know what’s sadder: the fact that Wilbur thought that flying large, old-fashioned kites down at the park would restore his daughter’s mental health and their relationship, or that he thought that flying large, old-fashioned kites down at the park once would do the trick, permanently. “We’re good now, though, right? I can go back to more or less ignoring you and rededicate my energy to my sandwich photography Tumblr?”

Meanwhile, check out Dawn’s crazed eyes in panel one. Wilbur hasn’t fixed anything, of course, but merely redirected her mania. Now she’s well and truly addicted to kite-flying! This all looks fun now, but in a week, when she’s dragging that kite across the ground in the middle of a windless night, sobbing, Wilbur will be sorry.

Mark Trail, 3/15/11

Oh, look, Mark Trail has moved away from its laughable drug island plot and returned to its ever so slightly less laughable love triangle plot. I love how Kelly’s story is calculated to sound as ridiculous as possible. Why don’t you just tell her that you were rehearsing for a play or something, Kelly? A play where Mark has to get naked and kiss you? It would be about as plausible.

Judge Parker, 3/15/11

Whoops, it looks like Constance has been caught showing more concern for a pricey but ultimately useless physical object than for a real live human being who died in agony! Don’t worry, honey, you’ll fit in with this band of rich narcissists just fine.

Apartment 3-G, 3/15/11

Finally, in Apartment 3-G, bald or balding white men are nervous about Trey Brooks. What terrible power does he hold over them? Is it his scarf? Does his yellow scarf cause them a certain nameless terror? Does it force them to obey his every whim?