Thursday, November 13, 2008

Wait, so the Raccoon Contest is a raccoon, chained to a log, vs. multiple dogs? And people bet on which fierce beast is going to win? Mark Trail isn't pissed off in panel one - he's freakin' confused.

Mark Trail is a master of wit, and is even better at responding to questions. Mr. Rabbit, or whatever his name is, can't believe that Mark's name 's "That's a PET raccoon, and I came to take it home." For one, it's not even grammatically correct, the poor schmuck. For two, there's actually a pet raccoon on the log. Might young Mr. PET Racoon be here to abscond with it? Don't they know what a catch this raccoon is? It came with a collar, for easy chaining!

Nature writers spoil all the fun!

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Enough Mark Trail to make your fucking head explode!

Baby, I know I've been downright despondent when it comes to you. I didn't mean to leave you behind for a few weeks, I swear! Sugar, it'll never happen again.


Drill, baby, drill, says Sue. Environmental responsibility, says Mark. Only you can prevent forest fires, says the PSA Seagull.

If I were Sue, I'd probably hit Mark with a wicked "Always low prices, always" remark, followed by a promise to roll back on already low prices. Instead, she's trying to entice Mark by sitting sexily on a log. Sex does not work on Mark, only animals.

Protip: Cats are Fuckin' Evil

Here, we see that a gaggle of familiars has tricked Mark Trail into speaking directly to them. This has been regarded as a rather cunning plan on the behalf of felines, as they now know that a 32-year old nature writer knows of their dark powers. While they choose to maintain innocence on the strength of Mark's complimenting them, Mark Trail will be one dead motherfucking scratching post when he least expects it.

Cats: Inseparable from witches. FOR human sacrifice. Black. America, we cannot afford to risk our well being on these arrogant, sharp toothed-bastards

Sue is doing her damnedest to lure Mark away from the sanctity of his marriage, but the lure of Cherry's flapjack breakfast remains too strong. Besides that, Cherry knows that her place is in the home, while Sue is some big shot, 19th Amendment-loving, estrogen filled corporate something-or-other.

Still, that desk job sounds mighty tempting, don't in Mark?

I mean, it isn't like you're in any hurry to answer her question. You're clearly 30 pieces of silver away from being a Judas to animals, plants, and Al Gore.

Sue's building, whatever the hell goes in it, will bring jobs and prosperity to an area full of rednecks who trap raccoons and chain them to logs for fun. Somehow, Mark wouldn't call that progress. Somehow, that doesn't offend Sue. For some reason, she'd rather hear about Cherry's flapjacks than convince Leading Nature Writer Mark Trail that this building is for the best.

I hope Charlie continues to speak like he just got off the set of some awful noir-styled B movie. Heck, I hope he keeps popping up in such villainous fashion, too. Imagine...

Later, at Lost Forest:

Mark Trail opens the door to his house. Charlie just so happens to be inside, sitting on a recliner!

Mark Trail: did you get in?

Charlie: Your wife...she knows that I'm the one trying to drain your precious wetlands! She also happens to make terrific flapjacks.

Mark Trail: Tell me about it.

Charlie: Furthermore, this dame Sue: Lay offa' here, Trail. We're both gentlemen, yes?

Mark Trail: Sue?

Charlie: A classier broad couldn't be found! Gentleman's agreement, Trail: You cut out of Many Miles Away, leave Sue and the land developing to me, and stay here, nice and quiet in Lost Forest...

Mark Trail: Sue?

Charlie: OR I'LL BLAST YA!

Mark Trail: Yeah, that's fine. Do you know where my wife is? She's usually around with the pipe and slippers by now.

Charlie: Tied up in the bathroom.

Mark Trail: So that's where I left her...

The two men share a chuckle. Mark punches Charlies lights out for kicks.


Charlie may be a heartless lobbyist, but damn it, he's got a crush on you, Sue! Awful taste in furniture and beeches and clothes included! This khaki-clad nature writer comes along and you're all the sudden ready and willing to give it up? You're willing to watch this whole empire, built on drained wetlands and fueled with the blood of hundreds of thousands of animals, crumble in a feeble attempt to woo the most chaste man on the planet? What about Charlie? What about the 'stache? He loves you for who you are, as long as you're not a beach-combing, nature loving hypocrite! What's it gonna be, Sue?

Well, crushing Charlie's masculinity and maintaining your confused status quo is one way of responding to a man's pledge of eternal love...


Protip: Jellyfish are alien invaders hell bent on ruining games of beach blanket bingo!
Not only are jellyfish heartless, soulless things, but as Humanity conquers their homeland, they've turned their attention towards attacking the hapless youth population as they frolic on one of the world's many beaches. Jellyfish are a menace that need to be obliterated. They're 97% water, so their destruction would solve the water crisis.

While Sue slams the door on Charlie's torso, Sneaky the raccoon sneaks out of the house. Boy, if this isn't the most exciting comic strip ever!

Jack Elrod is clearly ridiculing Barack Obama in some sort of racist doublespeak. Look at that raccoon, redistributing the wealth of America's lakes and streams to his mouth!

You might think that this is an obvious plot point in a strip that involves racoon fighting, but you'd be wrong. The Straight Talk express ran out of gas on the way back to Arizona, and without the RNC or McCain-Palin 'o8 paying at the pump, the assembled staffers, media representatives, and Palin children have been forced to trap for their food.

Panel 1 contains what is possibly the greatest sentence ever. It also contains the most grotesque drawing of a raccoon ever, and those things have popped up in Heathcliff.

Panel 2 may be symbolic of Corporate America's anguished yell to people who expect them to innovate in this time of economic crisis. Or it may just be truly awful, cliched dialog. Sue clearly doesn't know how many trees she'd save by switching to paperless billing, or how many fish she'd save if she stopped pouring her old motor oil into rain gutters.

Hell yes, Charlie. You keep talking like a badass. I may yet give you a tag.

The buffalo's status as a protected species has had some unintended consequences. Sure, if you continued to hunt for the big motherfuckers, game in the area would become scarce, but I'd rather have an active, frantic buffalo than one that is barely able to keep itself from distraction.

Sue fails to realize that she's already on the phone with Mark, which is for the best, because it's about time we got down to some serious Raccoon Contest action!

Mark Trail plans on dressing up like a big raccoon and betting on himself.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Mark somehow already wrote his article about draining the swamp, which was previously only mentioned before being derailed by alligator attacks and Raccoon Shows. Sue is clueless as to why a nature conversationalist would want to conserve nature and wants Mark to explain it to her in more personal terms. That means that she wants to do it on the beach amongst the talking gulls.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Not only does Sue pump up Mark's infantile ego, she proposes a trip to the beach, promising a scene not seen since the hayday of the Victorian beach party. Sue may not make it though: Mark's sheer radiance is scrambling her face. I shudder to think of the destructive capabilities of a radioactive Mark Trail and can only imagine what the poor creature next to him must be feeling.

Probably a craving for a Baby Ruth.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Sweet Jesus this is a talky strip. Mark, thinking that all women are succubi, races to the conclusion that Sue wants to bump uglies with Mark, which, as fate would have it, is true. Fate also dictates that at any given time, two people on the internet are Googling for information on each other, so Sue has inevitably seen the Wikipedia article on Mark, and Mark has seen the...uhh...Many Miles Away Post-Gazette Times-Forum article about the Wal-Mart she built six years ago on an Indian burial ground?

Thusly, we are now locked in an arms race. Either Mark knocks Sue's block off with a Right Fist 'O Justice, or Sue gets all Joan Crawford on Mark in her quiet, secluded place in the the forest she's only been in once.

Place your bets.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Super Long Catch-Up Post

I know, I know. This blog has gone sorely ignored lately. I'm sorry. Schoolwork and politics distracted me from my love of mocking comics. If you don't forgive me, I understand.

While I was away though, things in Many Miles Away have taken a zillion turns for the awesome. While the crocodile has been handily defeated and turned into boots, more problems have manifested that ensure that poor Cherry will be making pancakes for one for the time being. Let's hit the trail...


Hockey Midget really liked Sue, the evil, nefarious woman in charge of the development company that's killing everything around her. That's not a shock - women tend to like other women who like killing everything precious on this earth. Mark likes her too, but in a strictly platonic way. The other kind of like can never be, for that kind of like implies love, and by love I mean love, and love is icky and gross.


But then again, Sue is sooooooooo sexy in her white tank top and pajama pants. It will be hard for Mark to resist her allure. Charlie, whom it obviously sucks to be, is stuck kicking plants in a fury because Sue will not return his love. Then again, their kind of love can never be, mostly because the mustache ride went out of style in '79.

Nothing says "a little fun" like having your dog fight potentially rabid wild animals. Nothing says "town full of inbred hicks" quite like a game of this nature being advertised so blatantly at the local post office.

Those are the best rules for animal vs. animal fighting ever. Dog vs. Raccoon, with the raccoon chained to a log in the river, first animal to drown loses? Sounds like a freakin' spectacle!

Come and watch a wild animal DOOMED to die when a lucky hound dog chosen from the live audience falls off and sends the log rolling! Then, after the show, catch a concert and flaming crossbow demonstration from legendary rocker, Ted Nugent! Tickets are just five bucks!

Why yes Mark, there is a law against that sort of thing, but no less an authority than the United States Post Office is turning a blind eye! They're even advertising and providing books of Forever stamps to the victors!

Pop doesn't know anything about it except for that it happens. If Mark wanted information on the event, he could have just looked at the poster. Or, maybe, Pop is playing ignorant to hide the fact that he's been training Sneaky to be the Riki Tiki Tavi of the Raccoon Contest universe.

Mark Trail is so offended about the Raccoon Contest that he's going to go to it. No worries though, he's only taking $20. Don't want to lose your perfectly pressed, double pocketed khaki shirt over something as stupid as betting on a chained raccoon to drown a dog.

Meanwhile, Mark multitasks on an old IBM Thinkpad. Via the power of Google, he'll have figured out that Sue is the culprit six or seven strips from now!

Sneaky prepares for the Raccoon Contest by humping Andy into submission. Meanwhile, Sue Butler is going to begin her campagin to seduce Mark while Mark limp noodles his way through adulthood. Somewhere in this mess, right fists o' justice will be meted out.

Monday, October 13, 2008

It couldn't be any more obvious, Mark. That's not an everyday question, and your paths wouldn't cross again otherwise. Just punch her already.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Mark Trail seriously just tried to James Bond his way into that woman's pantsuit. Sadly, she knows that name, even though it never came up in conversation. Sadly, we're about to endure a week of lecture, wherein this chick will learn the error of her ways and change her mind, It's a Wonderful Life style.

Every time Mark Trail devolves into lecture mode, an Angel gets its wings torn out, shortly before being beaten with a ball bat.

Friday, October 10, 2008

How cute! That coon is stealing things!


Thursday, October 9, 2008

Judging from the worn out expression on Andy's face, my guess is that he and Sneaky are a bit more than "good friends."

I just hope Mark still thinks it's cute when his best friend gets rabies.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Yes, Mark, I suppose that having an alligator up your ass would really shake one up, even to the point where they magically grow a mustache, even if the alligator in question was so weak that poking it with a stick made it run away in fear.

Poor Sue doesn't know what's coming at Pop's place.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

What in the hell is a "monster-get," and how in the hell is Mark Trail stopping it with a dead, brittle, dried out branch?

I wonder what snaps first: The branch, or Mark's sense of mercy when Sue lets slip that she's the one draining the wetland.

Monday, October 6, 2008

I refuse to believe that the same alligator from Friday is the one in panel one. Look at it: She's so cute! She's even smiling!

That one in panel two is totally plausible. It's so fully grown and vicious looking that it can speak in large yellow letters. This alligator, Sue, alerts Mark to the fact that the wetland draining cube dweller has entered the once wet wetland, and oh boy is it on!

My prediction: Alligator/Trail vs. Evil Nefarious Person in a no holds barred handicap match tomorrow through Friday. The alligator will get some good licks in, but the woman's pink suit will prove too much, and it'll be up to Mark (and his fist) to win. Funeral on Saturday, snerts on Sunday, Pancakes with Pop, Hockey Mulleted Seed of Chucky, and Sneaky on Monday.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

My feeble mind cannot wrap itself around this superior plot twist in what was once merely a story about a few puddles and a thieving raccoon.

What was yesterday thought to be Mark Trail ready to deliver a devastating discourse on the dangers of draining dank, damp wetlands turns out to be a big motherfucking ALLIGATOR, and man is that sonofabitch huge! Luckily, our hapless and nefarious business woman wore heels to her land grab and has fallen! There's nary a mustachioed manservant to take the alligator's bite for her!

It's fine though. Afterall, there's a khaki-clad, forever 32 year old young man out there ready to jump into frame to wrestle alligators at a moments notice. What's that you say? He's not available? Where is he? Looking at some lame old geese with some geezer. Oh can't all be fun and-OHSHITHE'SRIGHTBEHINDYOU!

Friday, October 3, 2008

That wetland may be worthless, but that won't stop the forest animals from pleading for their land Mark Trail from punching your lights out before Sneaky steals your purse.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

The Wrath of Charles

Man oh man, that potted plant totally EATS Charlie's foot. Could this be a vicious counterblow to Charlie's upcoming Right Fist 'O Justice?

Meanwhile, That Woman contemplates the miseries of being a woman in business. First, there's no time to fawn over men with 70's porn mustaches and a penchant for pot kicking. Second...well...that's really it. Woe is her.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Plight of the Migrating Geese


In an existential crisis, one goose realizes that he has the ability to speak and makes use of his talent to narrate his flock's journey, which will result in his narrating a mildly successful nature film by Kelly Welly called Plight of the Migrating Geese where most of the footage of the geese will be lost in favor of fake horse stampedes and rockslides.

Mark Trail and Pop have no choice but to stand in awe of that miraculous beast.

Dude, that chick is pissed. She has a point though: They own the land. If Pop and co. be squatters on her property, the government would likely be more concerned about removing them than they are about a few thieving raccoons and dead trees.

Charles is a bitch. He just got swaggerjacked on an obscene level.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

So the newspaper has an article about Mark Trail's future Letter to the Editors of The Many Miles Away Times Forum. That's quick turn around, and it answers one important question (If Mark Trail makes a declarative statement in the forest, will a journalist be there to hear it?), but not why your boss had to take her precious time away from applying make-up, baking cookies, and talking to her girlfriends on the phone to look at your stupid newspaper, Charlie.

I hope she gives you a sinister hook o' evil.

Friday, September 26, 2008

This guy must be the Diet Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper of Mark Trail henchmen, because when it comes to meeting his nefarious overlord, he has to wait two hours. TWO HOURS! Worse yet? His boss is a woman. A WOMAN!

Odds are, Mark has his way with this fellow in the span of a panel and doesn't pause to realize that Cherry got herself a job as a secretary at a nature-hating firm.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

I imagine that the press conference Mark calls will go something like this...

Mark Trail:

People of Earth: In this era of rapid economic downturn, where jobs are fleeing the country like Irishmen from potato famine, where financial giants are sinking like ships with iceberg-sized holes, and where Presidential debates are put on hold indefinitely like the day I finally lose my virginity, please, stop and consider the plight of the town of Many Miles Away, specifically as it relates to the drying up of their wetland/grassland areas!

Stop walking away! *ahem* There are people; devious, mustachioed people; who would see our wetlands drained away! Oh, they may have grand intentions, and they may want to build buildings that will house places that will create jobs that will give you money to shop, buy, and provide for your family, but their choice of facial hair clearly indicates that they are evil and are out to destroy our very way of life!

Take, for instance, the plight of poor Pop! The mustache man drained away his water, leaving him with a pathetic puddle! What will happen to him? What will happen to his wife? His granddaughter? His granddaughter's pet raccoon, who stole my wallet, my watch, and my identity?

With a message like that, how could anybody be in favor of the technological terror lying in wait for Many Miles Away?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

It's a mystery of the world: Why oh why would a corporation drain away a wetland/grassland (which one is it, Pop?).

Thanks to the magic of multiple panels, the mystery is solved for us. The man in charge of the project has a mustache, which, in Mark Trail, makes you evil. Evil means that you hate nature. Evil means that you have a "me first, animals dead last" mentality. A mustache means that you've got a problem: An outdoor writer with one hell of a right hook.

Evil corporate stooge: You're next.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Does "other families" refer to that doe (a deer, a female deer) and her fawn? If so, note the lack of concern on their cute faces. Did you notice? No? That's because they're not concerned, old man.

Sure, Mark may have taken a picture of the last remaining puddle in Many Miles Away, but sir, your wetlands still appear to be wet. Wet and thriving. Look at the green! Look at it! Sure there's dead trees, but that's the wilderness, and things die there.

The facts of life, motherfucker: Do you know them?

Monday, September 22, 2008

What was previously a storyline about a cute, cuddly, rabid theif who was diverting the water supply for his marijuana patch has become a boring, dry strip about zoning codes and land developers. Things will only be made good if Mark punches a Senator. A U.S. Senator. State ones don't count.