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Mark Trail, 8/4/07

Who says Mark Trail isn’t good at depicting human beings? In most hugs I’ve participated in, Person A throws his or her arms completely around Person B, tightly pinning Person B’s arms to his or her torso while he or she stands there, ramrod-straight, grinning somewhat uncomfortably. It’s a joy to behold such human closeness!

Shoe, 8/4/07

Shoe takes a break from its recent obsession with death and regret and death to offer something a little lighter: old drunks with diarrhea.

Pluggers, 8/4/07

Pluggers are desperate substance addicts. If they haven’t had their junk, they’re angry and prone to ugly bouts of violence.

Speaking of Pluggers, faithful reader (and actual math professor) TurtleBoy did some epic number crunching to try to distill out some useful facts on the demographics of Pluggers and TDIET contributors. Will it be enough to get him tenure? Check it out!

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Mark Trail, 8/3/07

OH YEAH, MARK TRAIL BEATING THE CRAP OUTTA SOME GUY! That’s the best way to start your weekend right there. I love the way Buzzard is toppling over in panel one, less like an actual human being who just got socked in the jaw and more like the huge statue of a jowly, overalled dictator being pulled down in the wake of some kind of anti-hillbilly revolution.

Since he has no facial hair to punch off, we have to settle for the image of Buzzard’s hat flying off in the opposite direction of his head as he reels from Mark’s punishing blow. Some of you seem to believe that Mark’s punched Buzzard’s overalls off as well, but in panel two they seem to still be securely fastened. No, I think what’s happening in panel three, as Buzzard tries to distract us with his legal jibber-jabber, is that the portly rustic is actually taking off his clothes in preparation for the next phase of the battle. Tomorrow’s going to be awesome.

Apartment 3-G, 8/3/07

I surprised even myself yesterday by glossing over Margo’s blatant come-on, but today’s sordid aftermath is in the final analysis really more my style. Eric and Margo, ever the romantics, apparently did it fully clothed out on the balcony, and Eric, ever the gentleman, passed out almost immediately afterwards. If Margo were capable of feeling, she might be upset, but as it is the situation offers a perfect opportunity to root through Eric’s stuff. These two crazy kids are made for each other!

Funky Winkerbean, 8/3/07

I have to disagree with those commentors who are saying that Lisa is calling Darrin a mistake to his face. She’s saying that, if you don’t want to have a baby, it’s a mistake to have sex without using birth control — which is true, damn it. And Jessica’s comeback implies that the current generation of young Winkerbeaners were smart enough to know that. So, yay for the promotion of safe sex, even if only obliquely hinted at! I give you kudos on this point, Funky Winkerbean.

Darrin and Jessica will still die of cancer before they’re 30, of course.

Gil Thorp, 8/3/07

Gil Thorp continues to be the gift that keeps on giving, as Coach Kaz, P.I., works his way through the has-beens and burnouts that make up Gail Martin’s touring band. You can tell that Kaz has the great people sense that all good detectives need, as he openly condescends to one of the guys he’s going to be on tour with, though Cliff “Second Summer In A Row That Gil Thorp Has Featured A Benjamin Franklin Lookalike” Wrobek is probably too high to notice. I almost hope that Gail cancels her concert tour out of fear, because the image of a dazed and confused Cliff trying to sell insurance while waving his drumsticks around is just too delicious.

Wizard of Id, 8/3/07

After the United States adopted a single-payer health care system, most historians believed that the turning point in the debate came when the Wizard of Id joined the movement.

Ziggy, 8/3/07

Ha ha! Ziggy mouthed off and got punched in the face! Little dude just can’t win! Look at the bruising! Ha!

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Archie, 8/2/07

The Archie Joke-Generating Laugh Unit 3000 managed to churn out a serviceable punchline today (by the abominably low standards of the legacy comics industry) but it’s the weirdness of the setup that really places this strip squarely in the uncanny valley. Who is gap-toothed Leroy? Why does Archie hold him in such contempt? Did Archie’s chest expand between panels one and two, or did his head shrink? Why is he wearing an ankle-monitoring bracelet? Why are Riverdale’s beaches studded with ominous-looking targets? Sadly, I fear that the all of these anomalies are just the AJGLU’s idea of background color.

Mark Trail, 8/2/07

Seeing Mark announce “I’m your worst nightmare!” is of course a delight, a little love letter to everyone everywhere. Still, it wouldn’t be Mark Trail if the dialog emphasis failed to violate all norms of conversation among English-speaking human beings. Mark emerges from his hidey-bush and bellows “I KNOW ABOUT IT!” at the top of his lungs, then politely adds “I’m your worst nightmare” in his indoor voice. Perhaps all the boldfacing in the first word balloon tired him out.

Anyway, we are of course all on tenterhooks to see tomorrow’s punchery. Your firearm is no match for Mark’s bare fists, Buzzard!

Mary Worth, 8/2/07

If you ever needed proof that Mary Worth is some kind 18th-level Jedi ninja archbishop of meddling, this is it. By having a relationship with a somewhat older man, Dawn is enjoying herself in an ever-so-slightly unconventional way, which Mary obviously thinks is the moral equivalent to genocide. Rather than let our young romantic see her revulsion at this depravity, however, she instead pretends to be on Dawn’s side, only to plant a tiny seed in her mind by comparing her and Dr. Drew to the Camerons, Charterstone’s most loathsome couple. Now, every time Lover Boy, M.D., moves in for a smooch, Dawn will be unable to keep from visualizing Ian’s bloated, chinbeared visage, purple with drink and contempt, hovering before her. She’ll move on to a more age-appropriate boyfriend — or a nunnery — in no time, and Mary with allow herself a brief, subtle smile of satisfaction.

UPDATE: In this context, I simply must post to this excellent post at Subdivided We Stand, from faithful reader Smitty Smedlap.

The Phantom, 8/2/07

I know it’s not socially acceptable to test this out, but I’m reasonably sure that, while there are probably several more or less accurate ways to transliterate the sound made by an oar handle plunging into a man’s solar plexus, “PUNT!” is probably not one of them. I will allow that “UHHFF!!” is probably a pretty good approximation of the sound one would make when so oared, however.

Note that the Ghost-Who-Uses-The-Mori-Youth-Entrusted-Into-His-Care-As-Bait has sent a group of mostly naked teenagers with improvised bludgeons into a fracas against men armed with automatic rifles, while he stands above and fires a desultory round or two from his pistol in the general direction of the action. I suppose that if he leapt down, we’d all be denied yet another shot of his stripey ass.

Marmaduke, 8/2/07

This is one of the filthier things I’ve seen today. If you’re a sicko like me, it’s fun to imagine the caption without the second sentence.

Dick Tracy, 8/2/07

“The chief has just issued an APB for an elderly man!” And the cooks at Gitmo start making fewer halal meals and more bran muffins and prune juice as the several million Americans who fit this one-sentence description are rounded up for interrogation.

The Family Circus, 8/2/07

Sadly, the attempt to assassinate the Keane clan was botched. “Next time,” swore a cowed human race, sick to death of their antics. “Next time.”