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Mark Trail, 3/17/14

“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re collecting a gambling debt!”
“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re with the NSA!”
“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re a bounty hunter!”
“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re his estranged wife!”
“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re his criminal rival!”
“I guess there’s no harm, since you’re a cop! May I also direct you to the shallow, unmarked graves of his victims?”

Crankshaft, 3/17/14

The quest for a Prime Mover led Thomas Aquinas to God. But in the Funkyverse, the search for ultimate causes always winds up in somebody’s attic with a goddamn comic book.

Curtis, 3/17/14

Oh, that Curtis — such an imp! His creator, too:

I seriously hope this isn’t foreshadowing.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/17/14

June Morgan becomes a part-time adjunct professor, a.k.a. Becka’s Revenge. Don’t expect any free clams from this gig, sweetie.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Judge Parker, 3/16/14

How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable are all the uses of this world? Just ask Judge Emeritus Alan Parker! In the years since he returned to his strip, we’ve heard of the growing marital discontent he shares with his wife. He told us he feels old and useless, and we’ve watched helplessly as his compulsive risk-taking escalated from recreational B.A.S.E. jumping to jungle snake-handling.

The story ends, as all such tales must, atop a forbidden cliff in the Mexican jungle with the frenzied Judge turning his wife out to “rock the joystick” of some buzzing monstrosity in the hopes that something — anything — will let him feel again. Oh Judge, Judge — in all those years on the bench, did no one tell you about heroin?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/16/14

“All right, Becka, I suppose it won’t hurt to go over this again. As we’ve discussed, Dr. Morgan and I allow you to banter with us on a first-name basis because it suits our image of ourselves as friendly, egalitarian people. This is our little indulgence, Becka, not yours — and there is a line. Now, when I tell you that Paula John is an incompetent emotional wreck, that is not an invitation for you to defend her, or spew vicious gossip about the Dean — my peer — from below stairs or wherever it is you and your little friends hang out. Especially when you’re not meeting your most elementary responsibilities around the clinic. Well then, I hope you’ve enjoyed our little talk. Now get me those results. And let’s go back to calling me ‘Ma’am’ for now, shall we? There’s a good girl.”

Spider-Man, 3/16/14

Mary Jane manipulates her doofus husband without looking up from her crossword: “Hey, Tiger, what’s a six-letter word for ‘eight-legged parasite’?”

Zits, 3/16/14

This strip finally makes sense to me: Connie is Princess Leia, and Jeremy is Jabba the Hutt.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Six Chix, 3/2/14

Haha, no, don’t worry, storks aren’t really going to be replaced by drones any time soon! Just like the story of storks delivering babies is a metaphor, so too is this image of remote-controlled machines carrying infants about! The stork, which, like all birds, is a creepy, weird creature covered with gross feathers and scaly skin, is a metaphor for the usual biological process of human reproduction, which is a fairly disgusting procedure involving awkward positions, icky fluids getting everywhere, and problematic emotional entanglements. The drones represent the bright future, when our next generation will be grown in clean, efficiently engineered machines, tended by expert technicians. When they reach term, the babies will be lifted out of their germination vats by autonomous drones, which will deliver them to the lucky parental units assigned to them. So, yes, I guess that part isn’t really a metaphor.

Rex Morgan, M.D. 3/2/14

Say, did you forget that back in December li’l Sarah caught her babysitter Kelly doing sex stuff on the Morgans’ couch with her boyfriend, and Sarah used it as leverage to get a cookie, and also anything else she wants? Well, Sarah didn’t forget. Sarah never forgets.