Had to check the spelling on that one… Not a “BANG!” But rather a “SSHHHH”  Don’t want to disturb the wildlife!

And thank goodness that “All Rights Reserved” language is gone from the right margin… I suppose they need to leave their mark periodically, but I didn’t want to have to look at that every day…

I know I give Mark a lot of trouble for his tendency to vocalize his inner monologue, but there are times when it’s expected that a person talk aloud to him- or herself.  This would be one of them.  But rather than a guttural “HUNGH…?” I would probably have let out a stronger oath than that…

But at least there is a little tension developing.  Emphasis on the word little…  Mark’s on private land, has a satellite phone, and can’t imagine there isn’t a spare on board…

James, your first week at the helm reveals little (or perhaps a lot?) about you as a writer- and artist-in-charge… We are in your hands, and we are growing restless…

Notice the unreadable legalese along the right margin…  can’t read it, but it probably prohibits using this material without the “expressed, written consent” of whomever owns the rights to this pabulum…  but no matter, I will continue to live on the edge, as it were, the same edge that the words appear…

But is Mark really just on a drive?  Or is this some kind of a Vision-Quest?  Will the spirit of all animals saved rise up and validate his life, his existence?  Will he realize that after long last he needs to go home and consummate his marriage to Cherry?  No wonder she looked shaken the other day…

Allen doesn’t know how cell phones work either…  or the proper way to hold one whilst talking…  OITMON (out in the middle of nowhere) one would not expect to get any kind of signal, but there it is… Mark pouring out years of pent up longing and emotion to his one and only…  could it have been there all along and Elrod was too emotionally constipated to let it be shown?  Allen, now at the helm and driving the dialogue will be bathing us all in sweet nothings…  Not sure I like this at all…

Not sure I like the close-up of Cherry Trail either…  the more I look at her face the more I want to look away…  eyes impossibly large and eye sockets wide-set…  This to engender trust and sympathy?

At least we get a little wildlife shot today- thank you Mr. Whitetail with your prodigious rack, we only heard mention of the Grumpy Grizzly yesterday.  Do you have a name?  Likely not, as you will be mounted and perched over someone’s fireplace mantle come the winter…

Starting April 11, 2014, Jack Elrod’s name no longer appears on the daily serialized version of this strip…  Elrod signed the Sunday edu-ma-cational version of Mark Trail, but this James Allen fellow has been signing the daily strip ever since…  which so far is producing drech like this:

The Google reveals that James Allen has been with the strip as Elrod’s assistant, and that Jack Elrod is retiring two days after his 90^th birthday.  Yikes…  and here’s more than you ever wanted to know about Mark Trail and the Genesis of the Strip…

But back to our “story…” Growler the Goose, Rex the ill-tempered Grizzly (what? We can’t have a HAPPY BEAR in our midst??)  And even though Mark is prone to voice his every thought, he can’t even let the four winds know of his secret- that he feels “fortunate” to be sponging off the Davis Family…

Oh the suspense builds… <<yawn>>

Hopefully tomorrow…

In your Jeep Wrangler painted boat motor/ chum bucket green?  Certainly not to stick around and HELP with any of the chores that are a constant pressure on the rest of your “family…”  But certainly you can’t just hang around the house waiting for trouble to find you, you have to go out looking for trouble, bad behaviors to arrest and correct.

But still Mark labors (ha! that’s a joke!) under the delusion that what he does resembles work…  OK, maybe I am just jealous of a life spent never aging, never having to actually be accountable for anything… having drawers full of quick-dry clothes, a face that shaves itself and hair that magically snaps back into place…

Oh Mark, it’s almost as if you are proposing to Cherry all over again…  “Gosh Cherry, breakfast sure was good…” might mean a lot of different things to different people, but to Mark, it simply means that… The flapjacks were fluffy, the orange juice was sweet and pulpy, and the coffee was strong and black…  Cherry even went all in with the “Home-Henna” kit…  nice highlights.  But it doesn’t matter.  Mark sees right through and past you, like you aren’t even there…

And again, Mark is terribly confused about the whole “work” thing…  What?  He fished, he snooped, he punched and he brought a poacher to justice…  What in any of that was remotely billable??  Do your stories write themselves, is Editor Bill Ellis aching for copy?  Out of sight out of mind, Trail… for all you know Kelly Welly has been scooping you right and left and turning in award-winning work…  Your position in the pantheon of Nature Writers could well be in jeopardy!

And lastly, we have been treated in the last week to a couple of close-ups…  good heavens, Mark, you are a handsome devil!  Look at that smile?  Who does your teeth??

And it appears as though he is pulling a Benjamin Button… Aging in reverse…  Rusty looks to be about 8 years old, where in other shots he is bordering on puberty…  but no matter, let’s count the inconsistencies:  (1) Rusty was abandoned by his clan for close to three months and now “appears” out of nowhere as if nothing was strange or amiss; (2) Rusty claims to have a friend…  a friend with a lending library, and we know that Rusty has no friends; (3) Eggs sunny-side-up are no longer allowed based on USDA/FHA/CFPB/DOE/DOJ/OCC/LMNOP guidelines.

More Fishing??  These people are more one dimensional than the canvas they are inked and colored upon…  OK, let’s go with that.  More fishing.  But of course we remember the last (and first) time Mark took Rusty fishing… it resulted in a bad acid trip that had Rusty being chased by a T-Rex and harassed by a Pterodactyl…

MTTLF = 73 days  (for the uninitiated, that’s Mean-Time-to-Lost-Forest) or how many days, not counting Sundays, did we spend away from Lost Forest, the home of Doc and Cherry (nee Davis) Trail… And that freeloading nature writer Son-in-Law Mark… So let’s think about this for a minute…  That’s nigh on three months, and it would appear that the elves have done a great job keeping up the place!!  I wonder if there are any shoes by the hearth…  And everyone looks so damned happy around the table… Strong black coffees- all around!!  On me!  Even Andy looks happy as hell…  but really.  How did they get back??  The magic of comic strips, I suppose.  And assuming, in real life, that the return trip would have taken weeks, would they still be prattling on about Dunlap and his stupid artifacts?  And what exactly is the “local Native American tribe” going to do with the money that Jeff ‘n’ Jared had their eyes on??  Who knows…

But seriously.  Rusty.  Where in heaven’s name is Rusty.  It’s like he never existed?  He hasn’t been spoken of or seen since they all decided to go on a little canoe/ fishing trip last November…

Mark is savoring a bit of overcooked chicken in the crook of his cheek, talking while chewing, and Cherry looks positively medicated (“that shounds nishe…”) And of course what else do the Trails do on “days off” but head back into the woods?!?  But hey, whoa, Doc, Dude.  Mark wasn’t planning on taking anyone WITH him… and now the whole clan is going?  Well, he will have to take Andy with him now… otherwise who would feed the great beast and pick up after him??

Funny how there is no mention of Rusty… none at all.  Will they be able to make their escape only too have him find Lost Forest abandoned?  I can see the scene when Kevin realizes he is “Home Alone…”  “YES” he screams and proceeds to “own the place.”

So, Doc.  You’ve gotten everything done?  Time to wander off into the forest, get lost and… well… oh I can’t say it… but as death hovers over the Trailverse, as the story of Johnny Walker’s demise makes it’s way into the record books, as no one is even questioned as to foul play being involved, why wouldn’t we just start picking off the deadwood?  I mean really?

Rusty come home!!

I sit here wondering whether they mean for this stuff to be funny, or are they as unaware as the protagonist…

What- no lusty tales of Graft, Corruption, Bad Guys and Bull Elk falling to their death?  Of Innocence lost?  No, just that the Senator will do what he can to “protect wildlife in this area…” <<snore…>>

What? Huh?  Rusty?  Friends? Those two words have never been uttered in the same breath.  I smell another plot cooking.

“And oh, yeah… there is usually another Carbon Based Life Form padding around the house… Rusty!  That’s it.  That’s his name.  Where is he?  I hope we got a good price for him…”

Remember how we track MTTLF?  (Mean Time to Lost Forest) The amount of time Mark disappears only to return?  Well, this yarn spun for 64 days… Counting Sundays where Mark takes an aside to tell us about some life form (usually) unrelated to the current Pot-boiler…  What’s funny is that Mark was a stone’s throw from Lost Forest the whole time (when not lunching swankily in DC) and did he bother to check in?  Of course not!!