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Mark Trail, 5/21/08

Why do we tolerate Mark Trail’s inane dialog and nonsensical plots? For the brief and hilarious outbreaks of violence, of course, and today’s is a doozy. Mark kicking in the petnappers’ door so hard that it bends while apologizing (to the door, apparently) for his entrance not being as dramatic as he intended could be the greatest combination of vigilantism and almost-but-not-quite-idiomatic English since “You won’t be releasing any more birds!” Tomorrow we should could get some important questions answered, such as: Will Mark punch a woman? And are his fists powerful enough to separate a man from his ponytail?

Today’s action is made especially hilarious by Mark’s reedy, pipe-cleaner like legs and tiny feet. It appears that the terrible limb-wasting disease that has already ravaged Rusty is beginning to spread throughout the Trails’ Lost Forest compound.

Ziggy, 5/21/08

Oh, yes, ha ha, it was all very funny when Ziggy got e-mail from his toilet, but today we see that this was only part of a larger crisis in the Ziggyverse. Apparently our hapless gnome-like protagonist is beginning to notice the computerized functionality that lies behind all the seemingly ordinary aspects of his world — and it’s all beginning to go awry. This can only mean one thing: The Matrix has finally come to the top of the Netflix queue over at Ziggy central.

Also, if anyone can tell me why the normally pantsless Ziggy has decided that going to beach would be a good occasion for covering up his nether bits, I’d love to hear it. But if you have a theory as to where his nipples went, you can just keep it yourself.

Judge Parker, 5/21/08

So, Legless Steve spent weeks brooding about possible terrorist threats to his life, only to see them neutralized in about thirty seconds by his feisty, miniskirted legal secretary. Meanwhile, Abbey spent longer than it even bears thinking about harboring suspicions about her neighbors, even engaging in some cut-rate derring-do to spy on them, only to have them found out and apprehended off-screen, by someone else. Judge Parker seems determined to challenge Spider-Man in the Least Satisfying Dramatic Tension Resolution Olympics.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/21/08

No, “incited” isn’t an adorable malapropism. There’s an angry, torch-wielding mob just off-panel. You’re lucky you can’t read, Merrie; it sure wouldn’t be “just another book” to you then.

Beetle Bailey, 5/21/08

Oh, General Halftrack! Your tales of your emotionally crushing marriage are amusing and all, but you and I both know that you’re just hung over. Or possibly still drunk.

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Herb and Jamaal, 5/12/08

I was going to make some snide comment about how sad it is that Herb and Jamaal thinks it’s keeping its readership enthralled by this cut-rate David-and-Maddie-style romantic tension plot, but then I realized that I keep commenting on it, so who’s the sad one, really? Anyway, today’s installment takes the strip’s usual nonspecific circumlocution to some kind of higher art form. Are these two even aware that they’re talking about each other any more? Is Jamaal !ing in the final panel because he’s trying to visualize what Yolanda means by his “hammer” and her “bent nail”?

Luann, 5/12/08

Speaking of tedious romantic storylines, with TJ safely bundled off to … wherever he goes to when he’s not in the strip (*cough* gay bar *cough*), will tonight finally be the night when Brad “mixes some Brad” with Toni’s “Toni”? I have no real idea what that sentence I just wrote means, but it sounds gross, so I hope not.

For Better Or For Worse, 5/12/08

Speaking of tedious romantic storylines, I have to admit that today’s FBOFW made me crack up. Sure, it’s a reinforcement of the horribly retrograde idea that the strip’s been going on about for some time — that if some guy you don’t like is coming on to you, all you can do is wring your hands and whine weakly about it unless you have a bit of finger hardware purchased for you by someone else with external genitalia. But the sight of Warren recoiling in horror from the second-cheapest ring from Zales (or its Canadian equivalent) as if it were filled with deadly radon gas is so hilariously over the top that Foob, Inc., has to be in on the joke. Right? Right? Right?

Mary Worth, 5/12/08

In happier news, Donna Amalfi celebrated Mother’s Day by dropping dead. Since this blessed event took place at the beginning of the week, we should be treated to five or six glorious days of Mary helping the Brothers R process their emotional pain before giving this whole thing up as a bad job and blessedly moving on to something equally dumb.

Ziggy, 5/12/08

AOL-themed joke from 1998 + talking feces = desperate, desperate cry for help.

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Judge Parker, 5/7/08

Hey, kids, welcome to Judge Parker, where nothing ever happens for months and months and months, but when it happens, it really happens! A sexy (admittedly, we can’t see her face, but this being Judge Parker, “sexy” is a good bet) lady terrorist hell-bent on revenge! A cancer-ridden old lady in a wheelchair transformed into an unwilling human bomb! A battle royal between an enraged woman and an ex-Navy SEAL with no legs! Enjoy your next several days of thrilling action before we get back to the boring. In panel two, Momma Steve’s creepy, flesh-colored gag makes her look like some kind of mouthless horror, which hopefully indicates that the denouement of this story will be as deviant as the one in this strip’s pervy trip to France.

Crock, 5/7/08

I’m sort of charmed by the phrase “marked-down polyester from Wal-Mart,” which implies that you can go into the world’s largest retailer and buy great bolts of cloth to take home to your wife, who will sew them into the clothes for you and your children. It reads like it’s been written by someone who’s heard second-hand about developments in retail since the 19th century, but has never actually been in a store per se.

Update: Uh, apparently you can buy fabric at Wal-Mart with which to make your own clothes, like they did in olden days. Ha ha! Josh is a moron!

Ziggy, 5/7/08

Ziggy is so sad and lonely that he’s turned to the bottle; but, far from forgetting his problems, in his drunken state he’s become even more maudlin, and is now just sitting at the table by himself weeping openly. The waiter, profoundly unsettled by the raw emotional pain on display, covers up his discomfort by cracking wise.