Snark It Up, FuzzBall!

Wilbur’s hallucinating, that is…

This week was filled with “other stuff” to do (an ophthalmology exam and a sorta ENT one), and the week’s MW was simply vapid. Wilbutt on a desert island is one thing, Wilbutt talking himself of paying for a blind date is just crap.
{And I thought a return to the goon show with Wilbutt would be entertaining. I don’t want to end up hate- reading MW like I do with Luann, Mark Trail 2.0 and a few others…the syndicate needs to put Moy out to pasture.)

Maybe this will be the last strip of a really stupid plot (or at least a close one, that I won’t give a whole strip to):

(borrowed from Flash Gordon)

that a Wilbur plot-line can become as turgid and boring as a Keith Hillend, Iris and Zak, Toby and scary college administrator, etc., plot-line. PICK UP THE PACE, MOY!

When left to our own devices, we readers can come up with things…

Then again, when you’ve seen one Big Ape, you’ve seen ’em all…

Can you imagine that?!?? Or, maybe, the sweats to a cooler, summertime uniform?

Yeah, wear what you’d like, Mayoman, folks still aren’t going to be sympathetic to your cause, whatever that is!

We’re getting closer to old Wilbutt going around the bend…

“Did Charles Schulz predict the future?”

The answer is “Weird,” according to CC’s Dan Zsebehazy:

And I added, “Weirder”:

…because I don’t. This CIA vs. Russian gangster think is Way beyond my caring. What I think I know is April and her mom are running from Pavel, a Russian bad guy, and the best part is them deciding that this has to come to an end. The Judge Parker strip? The weird moratorium on bodacious ta-ta’s? Not letting us, the reading public, watch Sam and Abbey getting it on? Honestly, any option seems reasonable…

Who else but WILBUR?!?!??

Of course, no good deed goes unpunished…

Just keep walking, Wilbur…and stop thinking.

It IS nice to rekindle old acquaintances…

But wait! There’s more!

We break in for an important PSA (apologies to Judge Parker and the CIA):

Now back to the excitement that is Iris and Zak’s wellness lifestyle (meanwhile, Wilbur considers the next number for Saturday Night Karaoke):

Crap. It’s worse…

Wilbur Weston!” And God help us, he may even nail it!

“After all, even a blind pig…”

And wouldn’t you know it? A chance encounter…

I have a bad feeling about this…

Of course, there’s always a flashback (and good old Jimmy Durante is spinning in his grave):

Mandrake the Magician! Okay, so I doubt very, very much we’ll ever see this fellow here, but as a snarker, you have to strike while the iron is hot. Or the snake is attacking. Or something like that. (R.I.P. Binky 2021-2024)

(Heavens to Murgatroyd…no snark at all (at least, not from me)!)

Maybe Mark and Cherry don’t have the most wonderful marriage, after all…

SO! Someone is throwing toxic waste in Lost Forest! What can be done?!??

Alone at last:

Dawn says goodbye, and Wilbut says hello!

When the FB pearl clutchers yank your two previous strips, you learn to play nicey-nice:

when in the back of your mind, you haven’t played anything but the usual:

Wilbur proposes an innovative (and ridiculous) scheme for auditioning singing partners:

The search for a karaoke partner goes on (or, “The Shortest Wilbur-centric Story Line Ever”):

Well, Wilbutt’s off to an evening of carousing and crooning…