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Mark Trail, 5/3/11

Ha ha, remember last week when you were all like “Dudes with mustaches, they must be bad,” but then later you thought, “Oh, I’m not giving this strip enough credit.” Well, you totally were giving it the exact right amount of credit, my friend! I can’t believe this trio — one with a mustache, one with hair that reaches his collar, and one who wears a motorcycle helmet, presumably to hide even worse crimes against grooming — dare to refer to themselves as “clean-cut kids,” mostly because they all appear to be about 35.

B.C., 5/3/11

Hey there, legacy cartoonist or cartoonists now helming B.C. on behalf of John L. Hart FLP, the whole point of the “Wiley’s Dictionary” jokes (aka the “Book on a Rock” jokes) is to slap some clip art around a painfully unfunny joke and/or pun and then head out to the golf course. There’s no need to, say, show whatever random character you have reading the dictionary straighten up in disgust and contempt at the joke’s corniness in the second panel. That sort of thing just smacks of effort.

Phantom, 5/3/11

When Diana decided to call up Savarna, who made a play for the Phantom when everyone thought Diana was dead, I assumed that she just wanted to taunt her. But don’t worry about Savarna! She’s working out her sexual frustrations very nicely, thank you, just shootin’ massive artillery pieces at stuff, by remote control.

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Phantom, 4/27/11

I’ll say this for the Phantom: Whatever its questionable history of depictions of Africans decades ago (a little digging will find you some howlers), the current version of the strip makes a reasonable attempt to accurately depict a post-colonial African state. Today’s strips neatly encapsulates the tension between the multiple sources of identity that can compete for the loyalty of citizens of such nations. Most residents of Bangalla probably aren’t more than a generation or two removed from their ancestral villages, where ties of clan and tribe are paramount; yet many of the young have moved to the modern capital of Mawitaan, where they’ve mingled with people from other parts of their country, and have perhaps begun to see themselves more as citizens of Bangalla than anything else. Which I imagine might cause problems for this whole Chatu-wrangling thing. “Wait, you want us to come home and do what now? Uh, yeah, see, we have this nice construction gig thing going here … cool shared apartment down on the lower East side, near some decent Bandar restaurants … why are you guys running a prison anyway? Don’t we pay taxes to the Bangallan government to run a prison system? Oh yeah, that’s right, you don’t participate in the whole monetary economy thing. Well, anyway, I think we’re going to stick around in the city for a while, but thanks for asking! Say hi to Grandpa for us!”

Herb and Jamaal, 4/27/11

Oh, that wacky Herb and Jamaal, unable to bring itself to use such specific terms as “GI Joe” or “soldier”! But this zaniness masks the important issue here: If the information I’m getting from Funky Winkerbean is correct, Herb’s GI Dude will be suffering from PTSD after years left abandoned in that box.

Family Circus, 4/27/11

“Just like all the messages we send to Mommy on Twitter begging her to love us! They never work either.”

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So ends the Fall 2010 Comics Curmudgeon Fundraiser — a sincere “thank you” to everyone for your generosity, patience, or both. It’s never too late to contribute, of course — that’s what the little button on the left is for — but no fund drives for six months or so, promise. Now y’all’ve been so nice, here’s an extra helping of Saturday comic goodness:

Mary Worth, 9/25/10

Mary prunes and preens in smug self-satisfaction, never more menacing than when she’s bent two young lives to her will — in this case, by engineering the world’s most logorrheic second date.

Charterstone used to have a gardener, the vaguely ethnic Carlos Alora, whom we haven’t seen for years: the shaping of all lives is now Mary’s alone, and here we see her greatest achievement. No, not the shapeless lump in her hand — that’s just something to bleach for dinner. It’s on the left, her own precious rose — odorless, bloodless, perfect, and white as the grave.

Gil Thorp, 9/25/10

First among the many charms of Gil Thorp is its fidelity to “sports” themes that bore even those few readers they don’t utterly baffle. For example, the team rosters are dutifully trotted out every season, as though we’re going to clear away the piles of sports memorabilia cluttering our dens to find a pen and paper and write them down. And then there are the sportsy “issues” that define the season — like that thing Coach Tod Andrews saw! Was it Milford’s second-half offense-bogging? Could it have been the exhaustion of senior linebackers Cody Exner and Marcus Tedford? Perhaps the overreliance on “Mr. Excitement”, “The Ghost”, Jamaar Gaddis? Or was it the rookiehood of QB Miles Paris?

Hey, wake up — see what I mean? Nobody cares. At least from a male heterosexual perspective, today’s strip boils down to, “Hey, cute glasses! Not much of an ass. Hmpf, Gil’s faking it again.” Then on to Hägar the Horrible.

Bizarro, 9/25/10

I just stuck this in ’cause I like it.

The Phantom, 9/25/10

On a quest to rescue his beloved Diana, the Phantom infiltrates Rhodia’s feared Gravelines Maximum Security Prison, which sports the world’s most adorable prison logo! Take a look:

That’s where I want to go on my next incarceration! Maybe when the lovebirds reunite they’ll hang out on the beach before they leave? It’s happened before!

Crankshaft, 9/25/10

Just a lame hospital joke, but hey: he had an intestinal blockage that cleared up on its own yesterday and he’s still in the hospital why, exactly? And can’t sleep why? Is son-in-law Jeff still spiking his Metamucil® with wallpaper paste?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/25/10

Oh, we’re deep into the Rex Morgan Problem now, folks — starts out all Rexy with the finger and the latex and the KY and the Whoooooooop!, but morphs into a legal whodunit about records disclosure, segues into a political contest of wills, and here we are at “shady developer.” ZZzzzz … wake me for the gunfire.

And seriously, for somebody whose prostate has become as famous as the other donuts down at the diner, Hizzoner looks awful cheery in panel 3. And look, he’s running for re-election, right? Tell me again why can’t he oppose Jason King’s strip mall now?

OK, look: this is a Saturday post, on a freaking Saturday! Is that worth a couple bucks, or what? I thought so! Thank you!

Whoooooooop!

— Uncle Lumpy