Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

Boy, oh boy, does Mark Trail get a lot of visitors from his fellow panelists! And evidently some are more welcome than others.

Unfortunately, not all are the leggy creatures that Mark is sometimes fortunate to feature in his Sunday panels.  It’s back to the old grind on Monday, when our favorite forest friend continues investigating the Mystery of the Vanishing Wetlands:

Mark’s Monday adventure elicited a lot of excitement at the Comics Curmudgeon, and I guess I was swept along in the torrent of gatory goodness:

The original strip, following June and Rex’s explanation of all the wonderful things hospice does, starts with an absolutely dour-looking family, as if Abby the Wonder Dog had fallen into the river and drown or something.  So much for good feelings generated by charitable works…

Still, you work with what you’ve got, right?

Or just an excuse to draw Mark Trail and his family nekkid?

Thanks to CC’s Uncle Lumpy and Frippin the Krotz for posing such an intriguing question on the nature of love and its possible definitions.

Yes, possibly even more exciting than “It’s Martini Time!”, as sung by the Rev. Horton Heat.  Of course, the excitement is tempered by a sensible breakfast and talk around the kitchen table.

And then some more talk…

And wouldn’t you know, right on the heels of the wide-eyed, silent, looks-speak-volumes cat comes Lio!  If the American Toast Council ever needs a spokesman, I’m backing Lio.  I’m also backing the slogan: Toast: It’s What’s for Breakfast.

This is from a strip called The Better Half.  I don’t read it.  Uncle Lumpy, CC’S resident baby-sitter when Josh goes out of town, mentioned it (it had something to do with humor involving computers), but it was Mooncattie once again who called attention to the “Picasso cat.”

Yep. IT’S A KITTY! How can you go wrong??  It wasn’t *thinking* anything, but it was off-center.  Both of these behaviors are extraordinarily cat-like, which is why I think it works so well.

…I was shocked! to discover that after a week of beating around the bush (or the corpse), that Alan, the resident drug addict in Apartment 3-G, really had been shot by a fellow drug addict.  Silly me, I thought there might be some weird, intriguing twist, and that Alan was still alive — and then I remembered that this was Apartment 3-G.

Well, so shocked was I with the discovery at the morgue that I completely missed the fact that Dr. Andy Reed (aka, Count Morgu) himself was doing the autopsy!  Thanks to CC’s Mooncattie for pointing this out.  I will endeavor to be more astute in the future.

Oh, I wrote a song, too.  Okay, they’re just lyrics.  And I swiped the music from Oklahoma.

Pore Alan’s dead
Our fav’rite junkie’s dead
All gather round the cold slab now and cry
He’s been pumped full of lead
It’s no wonder that he’s dead
He doesn’t have to worry ’bout getting high.

Pore Alan’s dead
Pore junkie-boy’s dead
He’s lookin’ oh so holey and inert (and inert)
We’ve got to find a plan
We can spring upon LuAnn
So she’ll know he’s just a little more than dirt.

Pore Alan’s dead
The bullet missed his head
He’s lookin’ not so tidy, but still nice
He won’t paint anymore
Not that he did much of that before
But what we’ve got should sky-rocket in price.

Whew!  A lot of action! A lot of polyester! What more can I say?

…is purple.  Sadly, this is not purple.

Happily, however, Thursday, 25 September 2008 was “Draw People’s Asses Day” in the comics.  I don’t think all cartoonists did that, but Hats Off (and trous down!) to Judge Parker (still investigating Dewey Cheatam’s murder by grilling exotic dancer Dixie Julep) and The Phantom (for a peek at the Purple One in a shot worthy of the old Sears’ catalog).

Oh! Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Some crackpot in The Phantom is capturing bats and killing them for their blood!  W. T. F. ???  Do something, Ghost-Who-Snoops!