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Six Chix, 4/14/14

One of my running jokes that at some level in my mind may not actually be a joke involves the disposal of my remains after my death: in accordance with my will, I will be taxidermied and mounted in a heroic pose — I’m thinking wearing a bearskin and wielding a spear, though of course I will leave room for the whims of the artist — and whichever of my heirs intends to inherit my no doubt vast fortune will be required to display me prominently in their living room. But upon seeing today’s Six Chix, I of course immediately imagined another funeral scenario: a life-sized, anatomically correct chocolate replica of my mortal form would be covered in gold foil and laid out on a bier; after paying their respects, the assembled mourners would be required to peel back the foil and eat the effigy before anyone would be permitted to leave. The best part? Since only the first idea involves my actual corpse, we could do both.

Mark Trail, 4/14/14

Congrats to James Allen, who comments here as The Real Mark Trail, and who has officially taken over for Jack Elrod as Mark Trail’s scribe, transforming the Elrod-ball into the Allen-orb! And he gives us a look at the much darker and edgier direction he’ll be taking the strip right away. Geese, as everyone who has ever lived near a body of water knows, are the worst. They poop everywhere, they’re mean to other birds, they can be extremely aggressive with people, and have huge, powerful wings with which they can impose their cruel will. And yet Mark is an ally with this particular goose-gang, even knowing their leader by name! Welcome to Mark Trail 2.0, where the title character is much more morally ambiguous. Consorting with geese! My word.

Judge Parker, 4/14/14

The parents of the happy couple have been getting on like gangbusters over the course of this wedding weekend, but today we’re learning the real difference between a privileged jurist who dabbles in spy novels and a hardened, amoral arms dealer. While Abbott assembles his own ad hoc army, Alan can only sputter indignantly at how gauche the attacking gang of rival mercenaries is being. “Don’t they know we’re having a wedding here? Don’t they know who I am?”

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Panel from Slylock Fox, 4/13/14

Yes, the pin is on the wrong side, proving that she took the picture in the mirror! Also, Dabney Dog isn’t actually in the picture, so even if it hadn’t been taken in the mirror, it would prove nothing? Look, Cassandra, I know it’s frustrating that Sly refuses to get a smartphone so you can’t send him all the hottt selfies you take, but this elaborate scheming is not the way to get him to pay attention to you, OK?

Also, I’m pretty sure that the theoretical mirror that Cassandra took this picture in would have to be more or less where the viewer is looking into this scene? There’s something profound there about the fourth wall and how this strip merely “mirrors” our own prejudices back at us (prejudices about sexy cats and the foxes who won’t love them back).

Six Chix, 4/13/14

I’m very curious about how the bitcoin aficionado community will take this cartoon! On the one hand, their favorite fake internet nerd money has now been name-checked in the Sunday comics, surely the most mainstream of American cultural institutions. Also, while comparing bitcoin to the “magic beans” of the Jack in the Beanstalk story might sound dismissive, we should remember that Jack’s beans really were magical, and indeed did help make him rich in an unexpected way, so that’s also ultimately a positive. However, I’m sure they’re quite upset at the vulgarism “bitcoins.” THE PLURAL OF BITCOIN IS “BITCOIN,” PEOPLE, JUST LIKE IT IS WITH “EURO,” UGH, GET IT STRAIGHT

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Apartment 3-G, 4/12/14

DEER DRAMA UPDATE: After being yelled at by the mean large animal vet for taking a baby deer out of the wild and raising it in a New York City apartment and leaving it completely unfit for life in its natural habitat, Tommie became convinced that the vet was going to kill the baby deer and so she and the deer fled, and now she’s preparing to do the only thing more insane than keeping a baby deer in a New York City apartment: keeping a baby deer in a motel where they probably won’t even let you keep a dog without paying a hefty deposit. “Deer? What deer? Why, this is my son, my hairy, hairy son, as you can tell because he’s saying ‘bleat’ aloud rather than actually bleating like a deer would. By the way, this room smelled like deer urine when I checked in, and I’ll be saying as much in my Tripadvisor review.”

Family Circus, 4/12/14

I was about to make some joke about how the shocked children look like they’re about to stone Billy to death for his anachro-technological heresy, but then I got a gander at the so-called “teacher” at this supposed Sunday School. Look at that shaggy haircut! The shirt unbuttoned almost all the way down to the breastbone! No wonder Billy thinks he can spout off this nonsense in the middle of class! What’s next? Popular music during services? The priest facing towards the congregation during the consecration of the host? Ecumenicalism? This is madness!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 4/12/14

Haha, don’t think June has let go of the fact that some extremely mild teen making out might have taken place under her roof, because she hasn’t! Obviously, it’s not about Niki, because he’s a boy and we all know it’s totally cool when teenage boys do sex things. No, it’s about Kelly, and figuring out just exactly how dirty a little tramp she is! This is important, doc … make the call!