Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

…there must be one, and I’d love to get my hands on it.  Where “fun” is defined as “camping in a swamp,” “watching your step every single waking moment,” and “get a load of that copperhead!”.

Still, it seems Rusty is having a good time.  And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, Mark?  Mark?

…but it’s sake to me!

Ahem.

Sunday’s Mark Trail was awash (literally!) in information for tsunami awareness and emergency preparedness.  Tsunamis are pretty damned incredible things, made only more amazing by the lovely lasses attempting to Get To High Ground:

Several ‘mudgeons were mightily impressed by the strip.  Mooncattie noted it would’ve been frame-worthy if only Rusty had been included.

Okay, when I come and visit you and Jane the Maine, Mooncattie, I expect to see this hanging over the sofa:

Rex Morgan has been gone so long, I think he’s staying in the Caribbean to endow a (folding) chair at his alma mater, the Captain Jack Sparrow Medical School and Rasta Bar-be-que Culinary Academy.

Oh, well, I suppose we just have to plug along in Morganville on our own:

[Who do you think takes care of Dr. Reed when June’s off at a nursing conference, anyway?]

Reggie was always my favorite Riverdale teen.  He was good-looking and smart, and most of all, a snarker before snarking was cool.  (Back then, he was just a smart-aleck.  Just like me!)

Fortunately, other snarkers have come into the light, no longer afraid to be ridiculed, to be told that they’re immature, or that they act like middle-school kids, or that all they think and joke about is sex, sex, sex! (Hi, katya…that one’s for you, sweetie!)

[This is a slight reworking of the mashup I did early.  The first one was rushed, because I didn’t want AeroSquid to steal my idea.  You didn’t think I was going to take the fall for the broken Ming vase, did you, A.S.?]

Oh, Jeffy! Oh, Billy! You two little casaba-heads make things so easy!

Of course, we can always class up the joint by an episode of “AeroSquid Modern Literary Classics” (In Color!):

“What are you drawing ?

“NOW you’re interested ? What’s your angle ?”

“No angle. I’m on the up and up. What is that ? ”

“Since you SEEM interested, I’ll let you in on it.”

“I’m all ears. Lay it on me, Jackson.”

“Well. You know what a Tesla coil is ?”

“I think so. That thing that goes: BZZZ BZZZ ?”

“Crude sound effect, but accurate.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Anyway…..”

“Anyway, as Mommy recited her oblations to the Old Ones the night before, I noted a small, almost undetectable variance in the third realm of Baoht Z’uqqa-Mogg. You worship Baoht Z’uqqa-Mogg….don’t you ?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“You’re lying. Baoht Z’uqqa-Mogg knows it and I know it.”

“Okay. You got me. I’m not an adherent. I worship Nug and Yeb.”

“The Twin Blasphemies ? Ha ! You might as well lay with Shub-Niggurath !”

“The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young ? Men have died for less for such impolitness !”

“Anyway….”

“Anyway…”

“I’m drawing a pee pee. HAHAHAHAH!”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

September really is Prostate Cancer Awareness Month.  And even if you weren’t “in the know,” judging from the number of flailing phalanges in the comics recently, the word’s been spreading in that venue.

It’s just something you get or don’t get.

Heck, I’m not even sure if it goes this way:

Or that way:

So I’m covering all my bases.

Well, um.  These wouldn’t have happened at all if CC’s Dingo (resident libertine and proud purveyor of NSFW websites) hadn’t mentioned this: http://www.manhuntshop.com/joy-rider-fuck-machine_543.html

But he did.  The rest sorta kinda followed.

And a little more to get it all out of my system.

Whew! Better.

Sigh.  Nothing yet.

I’m forced to mash Mary Worth, and Sunday’s strip looks depressingly like a Sunday edition of Apartment 3-G — rehashing the past week’s events.  This is especially depressing when you realize just how little went on in the past week, that it was rather boring, and that compressing it into seven or eight panels only makes it look like a summer rerun.

There are some arms flailing about and interesting expressions, to be fair, and some tried-and-true Marian platitudes.  So instead of infringing on the original art or the dialog (stellar stuff, kind of like dark matter), just some snarky additions.

Mark your calendars: a Family Circus that is vaguely amusing.  Little Jeffy (#2 son in every sense of the word) complains to his mother, “Aw, Mommy! ‘My Brother’s Clothes’ really isn’t a brand name, is it?”  Maybe he’s not the clod that we thought.

Not that I’m going to pass up a golden opportunity to mash up a picture of pantsless Jeffy:

And come to think of it, there is a strange resemblance when Jeffy isn’t quite put together:

CC’s own Alfred E. Neuman, intrigued by this startling revelation, conducted a short but hard-hitting interview with Mommy Keane and Ziggy.  It’s worthy of a spot on “60 Minutes,” I think:

AEN: Ziggy and Jeffy have remarkably similar coloring. This suggests the possibility that Ziggy is the father. Do either of you think that is possible?
Thel: Ida know.
Ziggy: Not me!