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Panel from Mark Trail, 2/21/10

Mark Trail has offered us few sights more adorable of late than this vision of a drunken lorikeet, the universal comics symbols for inebriation swirling about its befeathered head, woozily flying back to its companions after drinking up all the palm wine it can find. Mark himself of course does not drink, and only allows himself to be intoxicated by the sweeping vistas of America’s natural landscape; however, he seems more amused than judgmental over alcoholism among our animal friends.

Panel from Curtis, 2/21/10

Meanwhile, in Curtis, Gunk has taken an ill-advised trip to a factory farm, the horror of which has shocked his eye-sockets into the horizontal arrangement normally favored by humans. But at what cost? The pain of the reconfiguration appears to have been excruciating. If I ever see his puffy eyelids and pinkish irises again, it will be too soon.

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Judge Parker, 2/20/10

Oh look, Rocky’s making nice with this paparazzo! That will totally make up for the time not 24 hours earlier when Rocky brutally assaulted him, right in front of a local law enforcement officer, and suffered no consequences for it whatsoever. He gives the hat-tip to Sam for his sudden burst of peaceableness, since it was Sam who told him that he needed to learn to control his temper if he didn’t want his wife divorcing him and taking all of his money away. A cavalcade of human loathsomeness all around!

Perhaps the reason that Rocky didn’t get all punchy again is that, in the world of Judge Parker, pretty people rule; but under the terrifying regime of the stand-in artist, everyone is equally deformed, leaving the inhabitants of the Parkerverse unclear on who exactly is allowed to domineer over whom.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/20/10

Don’t worry, though, everyone is still hilariously pretty and dumb over in Rex Morgan. Brook, having attempted bribe Toots out of the house with a sammich as if he were a common hobo, reacts to the return of her terrifying relatives with some kind of flailing dance move/martial arts readiness stance. I cannot wait for the wacky sitcom-style shenanigans that will ensue as Toots spends the next six to eight weeks attempting to lay low in the Morgan basement.

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Apartment 3-G, 2/19/10

Say, it’s been a while since we checked in with Margo. What’s she up to? Destroying Eric Mills’s legacy of presenting the work of talented artists to a discriminating public, it appears! “Look, Jack, it doesn’t matter what you think; I’ve already signed the franchise agreement. Starting tomorrow, the Mills Gallery is rebranded as Mills Gallery Presents: Thomas Kinkade®, Painter of Light™.”

Oh, also, we get some bonus parental sassing. Jack appears to appreciate it as well. “I can’t agree with her business decisions, but darned if I don’t love her moxie! I wonder if she likes jowly, balding men who appear to be older than her father?”

(By the way, it’s good to see that Margo no longer suffers PTSD attacks just from hearing the syllable “zip.”)

Family Circus, 2/19/10

The problem with creating all-ages entertainment is that it tends to go for the lowest common denominator. Thus, this game, which is easy enough for Big Daddy Keane to play, has clearly bored P.J. out of his mind. Look at him there, holding onto his cards, and obviously dreaming of playing no-limit poker or something that might actually engage him a little.

Jumble, 2/19/10

Holy crap, over the last couple of days the Jumble has been laying down some serious and radical social commentary! Ha ha, while you poor saps go hungry in your empty kitchen, this rich lady sits in her chair ordering her servants about! Once again the blank letters for the solution aren’t numerous enough for the obvious answer: SOAKED THEM IN THE BLOOD OF THE MASSES.

Spider-Man, 2/19/10

Hey, Sabretooth, why are you so sure that only Spider-Man knows where Wolverine is? Have you even considered asking anyone else? I think you’re hurting Daredevil’s feelings; he probably keeps swinging by you hoping you’ll strike up a conversation.