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Slylock Fox, 9/29/09

My goodness, it’s been nearly three years since we’ve seen a Six Differences this bleak. In fact, this installment may be even more disturbing: while the previous strip featured a fish dead so long that it had skeletonized, today’s features a fresh corpse that’s just risen to the surface; the still-living fish hasn’t even had time to realize that it’s now sharing a tiny bowl with the floating body of the only friend it’s ever known. More disturbing still is the difference between the two little girls: in the scene on the right, the tyke is shedding a tear for her beloved aquatic pet, but in the left-hand panel she’s merely watching the process of death in wide-eyed fascination. Perhaps her “experiments” are now ready to move up the food chain. Don’t leave your meals or drinks unattended, mom and dad!

Mark Trail, 9/29/09

“They probably thought you were a wildlife ranger … you know, because you wear what appears to be a uniform, you bellow random facts about nature at inappropriate times, and you dish out violence as if you had some sort of law enforcement authority. You can see why the poachers made that mistake! Uh, I mean, I heard that they made that mistake, from other kids. Please don’t punch me!”

Dick Tracy, 9/29/09

So Ringo, having once ratted out his corporate bosses, is now ratting out his carnival underlings; the lesson we are meant to draw appears to be “never trust a whistleblower.” I guess I never expected Dick Tracy to get on board the “Stop Snitchin'” bandwagon, though I suppose learning about crimes from informants denies Dick the fun of beating confessions out of suspects.

Beetle Bailey, 9/29/09

Otto, your continued presence in the barracks is on the line here, so you might want to not openly acknowledge your responsibility for infesting Camp Swampy with vermin.

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Many of the What Would Margo Do? bracelets are at long last arriving on the wrists of their intended! I thought I’d provide some fun pics sent in by readers like you!

Here’s faithful reader Nathan:

Faithful reader Alkibiades:

Faithful reader Dub Not Dubya (with bonus Finger-Quotin’ Margo Mug!)

Here’s a pic from a faithful reader of “my exceedingly bitchy rabbit, Penny, wearing her new ‘What Would Margo Do’ bracelet. Just like Margo, Penny bites, growls and charges with the slightest provocation. My 2-year-old son, my cat, and I are terrified of them both.”

Here’s one from faithful reader Red Greenback:

And one from faithful reader Jumble Jeff (yes, that Jumble Jeff) channeling his inner Margo to … hey, wait a minute…

Faithful reader buckyswife believes that Margo would be reaching for the booze right about now:

Faithful reader mollificient is stone-cold harpin’:

And, finally, this mysterious but evocative composition comes from faithful reader Baka Gaijin:

We’ve got plenty of these left over, so anyone choosing to put anything in the tip jar between now and, oh, let’s say Friday will get one! Once again, an ENORMOUS thank you to all who contributed, and you’ll be getting your WWMD bracelets (if you haven’t already) and thank-yous soon!

Also, Uncle Lumpy refuses to sit in judgment over your comment wit, so I was going to let Violet’s comment rule the roost for another week, but I started collecting candidates Sunday night and came up with a decent list, so, well, here’ your comment of the last few days!

“‘How come Hootin’ Holler never makes that list, Uncle Snuffy?’ ‘Because Hootin’ Holler is a foul gangrenous pit of futile nothingness. Also, the sisterfucking.’ ‘Haw haw haw! Oh, wait.'” –TruthOfAngels

And the funny runners up!

“Kudos to the officer riding shotgun for thinking ahead enough to bring both his retro-style cellphone AND dainty sweat-mopping handkerchief.” –Paddy

“Ah, the oath. For generations the citizens of Hootin’ Holler on their 16th birthday swear the dire oath to kill and eat any stranger entering their lands. This oath also explains why everyone has the same nose, no one appears to have a chin and the odds are pretty good that the coonskin cap isn’t the only thing on Jughead with a tail.” –zerowolf

“Seeing as he’s talking like a ’30s gangster, why not have Clowny-Clownpants talk out of the side of his mouth? Watch out, side-talker, Dick’s gonna squint at you some more!” –MolyBendum

“DT: TWISTS ONLY WORK IF THE PLOT WAS ALREADY GOING IN A PARTICULAR DIRECTION.” –commodorejohn

“Pluggers have thick verdant lawns because pluggers suspect that indoor plumbing is a form of witchcraft.” –One-eyed Wolfdog

“Attention Mark Trail writers: you need to work on giving your stories more complexity if you can condense the last two weeks into a sentence-long recap bubble.” –Alan’s Addiction

This is the spot where I’d thank our advertisers … if there were any who bought BlogAds ads, and who thus get thanked every week! Sadly, there aren’t any this week — maybe next week I’ll be thanking you! To find out more about advertising on this site, click here.

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Mark Trail, 9/28/09

You know, while Mary Worth was busy pumping ancillary characters full of lead, Mark Trail was offering us the unusual spectacle of Mark experiencing the blunt head trauma-induced unconsciousness he usually dishes out to others. The most exciting aspect of this plot is not any danger to Mark — surely he can punch out any real threats to his person while out cold — but rather the prospect of the feeble Rusty wandering aimlessly around the alligator-lousy swamp with only his own hideousness to protect him. Sadly, we weren’t even given a few hopeful days to imagine that Mark’s deformed ward had been devoured by a vicious reptile before the inevitable discovery that he’s safe and as sound as he ever is. I don’t normally root for stories about children in danger, but I make exceptions for Rusty.

Dick Tracy, 9/28/09

Oh, also, the soulful-eyed clown, who I pegged as the killer pretty much upon his first appearance, then briefly began to doubt the guilt of, turns out to be the killer after all! Thank goodness Dick Tracy isn’t challenging my plot-related expectations in any way, as I don’t think I could handle it.

Really, though, Dick Tracy isn’t particularly interested in the big-picture strokes of the plot at all: it’s not a “mystery” strip as such, as your most base impulses (sinister clown = murderer, in this case) are always likely to be correct. No, it’s more interested in following its own drifting dream logic on the way to its predetermined conclusion. So Ringo was a corporate whistleblower (OK) who was put into the care of the witness protection program (makes sense) and given a job running a circus (wait, what?). And Mr. Pops the clown worked at the company Ringo worked at, or something? And now everybody at the circus also hates Ringo, because … they also were profiting from the corporate malfeasance … or maybe because he’s a bad boss, or bad ringmaster? You might think that Mr. Pops’s accusations will be followed up on in future strips, but trust me, they won’t, not to anybody’s satisfaction, anyway. It’s not so much a “tightly constructive narrative” as one of those nightmares you have where you’re in college or a new job and you haven’t done your homework or learned any of your duties, and everyone is mad at you, and eventually you get eaten by a tiger.

Pluggers, 9/28/09

Kudos to pluggers for allowing their yards to revert to prairie, but why not go all the way? They ought to allow their human-style dwellings to decay, strip off their clothes, and go feral, like the beasts that they are. Of course, they may be devoured by their wild cousins who never experienced the softening effects of domesticity, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Beetle Bailey, 9/28/09

Ha ha, Sarge is closing his eyes and pretending that the only words he hears are “bigger,” “job,” and “harder”! Jesus, I am a fucking twelve-year-old.