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The sicko is probably giving her bad parking advice, to draw out his pleasure

Mark Trail, 9/20/14

Hey, remember when this whole storyline started off, with Woods and Wildlife Magazine sending Mark off to Africa to hook up with anti-poaching activist Jacob Hickman, but then Mark got to Africa and Jacob Hickman had vanished, apparently under suspicious circumstances, so he just invited himself on Chris and Lori’s safari instead? Well, anyway, it turns out Jacob Hickman was fine, mostly, except that he had been delayed and forced to walk back to civilization … forced by rhinos. Ironic, isn’t it Jacob? You do so much for these ungrateful beasts, and yet they still try to kill you. Maybe you’ll lighten up a little on the whole poaching thing now, ha ha! Anyway, seems like Jacob’s working pretty fast to take credit for a whole lot of things that Mark did while he was busy taking his scenic little stroll.

Family Circus, 9/20/14

How much do I love mustache-dude just standing there with his hands behind his back watching Mommy Keane trying to parallel park? This is clearly his favorite form of entertainment. Probably he lurks around smallish parking spaces just waiting for something this exciting to happen. “Oh boy, this lady’s got a station wagon and a little kid in the car! I could get a solid three or four minutes out of this!”

Metapost: Enjoy some comments of the week!

Good morning! Would you like to read this week’s top comment? Well, here you go! Have at it!

“I question the split-window design on the back door of that yellow sedan. ‘Ride in style with one window that can’t possibly roll down and another no more than a few inches wide in your new 1993 Oldsmobuick!’” –Ed Dravecky (on Facebook)

Oh, also, would you like to read the runners-up, which are also funny? Go to town!

“Context is vital here. At work, Leroy’s younger, more hirsute, not-yet-defeated-by-life coworker came bounding up to him with the news that he was going to ask his longtime girlfriend to marry him. Leroy didn’t even look up from his computer. ‘Mmm-hmmm,’ he said in a disinterested voice. ‘Listen, before you do that, why don’t you stop by our house this weekend?’ When his coworker asked why, Leroy just said something about ‘instructing’ him. The moment depicted in this panel is from Hour 5 of that instruction. The coworker’s heavy, heavy eyelids mean the process is working.” –Joe Blevins

“The Number 2 on his shirt is a clue as to what he did, the naughty boy.” –debussy fields

Mary Worth: “‘Too many parents think of their children as an inconvenience,’ says the woman whose lack of any immediate family leaves her endless time to meddle in others’ lives, as she lounges poolside in her idyllic beach-town condo complex and considers another serving of lemonade and cookies.” –BigTed

“Hey, kid. The guy who coaches your team had an ambulance parked next to the field so that he could make a joke about how shitty the team is. Do you know how much an ambulance costs? Couldn’t you just die of embarrassment? No? How about if I told you the guy he’s talking to isn’t stoned and hasn’t had a stroke, that dopey look on his face is a smirk. And his name is Les Moore — Les Moore, a pun, get it? Now do you want to die of embarrassment?” –handsome Harry Backstayge, idol of a million other women

“You want to eat out? Bring it up a couple hours before someone cooks for you. ‘This is No-Win City, and politeness is on my alderman’s agenda! Oh man, here come the traffic laws of basic civility!’” –Dan

“Cower in terror, O ye dogs of the street, for the Day of Judgement is upon you! For behold, the Angel of the Lord is astride his Pale Horse, blowing his trumpet! Today you shall account for all your sins, ye mongrels of the gutter!” –Perky Bird

“Pluggers don’t recognize eye parasites until it’s too late. They also have great fun with their fleas, ticks, and guinea worms. ‘Ah, look at ’em, poking his head out from my skin. He thinks he’s a plugger!’” –Voshkod

“I think the EPA might have this one right. Bonfires that black out the sun and turn day into night can’t possibly be good for the ecology.” –Brad

“If Olive were still with Mary, she could have warned Mary in time to prevent the accident. Where is your all-seeing tummy brain now?” –AhClem

“We can’t talk about it now, Carol! There are readers present!” –Cloudbuster

“Most comic characters have 4 sausage-like fingers on each hand. I can deal with this cartoonish simplicity. Beetle Bailey’s Cookie reduces this number to 3. In a few years, the strip will be inhabited by characters whose arms end in a flesh mitten. And from there, perhaps a singular, floppy knob to wrap around equally minimally drawn objects of indiscriminate purpose.” –hogenmogen

We did all we could, Mark, but I’m afraid he’s gone! As soon as we turned our backs, he jumped out the window, stole one of the cars, and drove off, screaming something about ‘one-horned bastards’. Can you break the news to his lady friend?” –Enlong

“Mark Trail does not mourn. He merely closes his eyes, and somewhere, an eagle weeps.” –Jack loves comics

“Something was missing. Compassion. I spent all day emptying bed pans and dealing with sick people and their really gross diseases and festering injuries, and did I hear one word of sympathy from Margo or Lu Ann? No. How could anyone be that self-absorbed?” –cheech wizard

That sounds more romantic than ‘Rotovirus Quarantine.’” –Kevin on Earth

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Another good reason not to go on a cruise: You might encounter Marvin

Marvin, 9/19/14

This week’s Marvin plot has involved Marvin’s parents taking him on a cruise and Marvin’s dad contemplating various ways to get rid of the awful hell-baby who’s cramping their style, up to and including just dumping him in the ocean. Today, Marvin is mysteriously absent, so presumably he’s been put into the ship’s Babysitting Isolation Chamber or something, giving Jeff the opportunity to remind Jenny that they had sex at some point in the past. Has Marvin’s absence really lulled him into complacency? Has he forgotten what those previous sexual acts produced? They produced Marvin, Jeff. MARVIN. Jenny knows. Jenny remembers. Jenny would rather her flesh be scoured from her bones by the unforgiving mid-sea sun than risk producing another baby from the same genetic template.

Apartment 3-G, 9/19/14

“I mean, I’ve always been fascinated by the weird colletions of guts and goo inside the fleshsacks and bonecages that came into the hospital, and was pretty good at repairing damage and killing off unwanted parasitic organisms, but it turns out I’m supposed to care about these meatslabs? Like, they’re living, thinking beings, just like I am, apparently? Who knew? Shoveling horse manure on this farm has really taught me a lot about myself. Specifically, it taught me I should go into pathology so I can tinker with the dead ones down in the morgue and not have to worry about anyone’s so-called ‘emotions.’”