I guess it makes sense.

I now know that Right Whales were named that because they were the right whales to hunt.

It sounds like a joke, but it's the truth.

(And I'd like to add that if a ship I am on is ever stove by a whale, I will take my chances and sail to the nearest island that can support life, even if it might have cannibals on it.  Better to go and find out that there aren't any there than to sail around in a whale boat living on hardtack and water for days on end before being forced to resort to cannibalism or die when the food inevitably runs out.  Besides, I hear the islands are nice this time of year.)

Is that what I think it is?

I swear that Bob Ross just painted Godzilla.  Sure, it turned out to be a tree, but it really looked like a side view of Godzilla for quite a while there, and even after the addition of all of the leaves, I think that it still does.  I just wish I could find a picture of it.

Name that tune.

The worst song to have stuck in your head is one that you know you own, but have no idea what it's called, and the only snippet you can remember is either a wordless tune or a group of words far too generic to be of any use in a search.

He's kind of weird, but he's quiet and always comes through with his half of the rent.

        

The first thought that went through my mind when I saw this Lio comic was, "Hey, Thrakazog's back from Dimension 14B!"  The second was, "It's clone making time.  I'll get the oregano!"  (Because after all, as the big guy said, "A little goes a long way.")  

Note to self: remember not to call him Susan.  He hates that.

I can't go through this again. I just can't.

I already had to deal with the untimely demise of Buzz.  I refuse to go through the same thing with the little spotted dog.  I hope that Rusty appreciates what the little guy is doing for him, and I hope that he keeps running (even though it looks like he's decided to play a little soccer with the Jack Elrod Ball).  Oh, little spotted dog, I don't even know what kind of dog you are, but I hope that you're a good fighter, or a fast runner (or are at least faster than Moe and Larry over there because they certainly aren't going to be thinking about doing what's in your best interest if they catch you).  Your courage in the face of such danger as this is to be admired, and so, little spotted dog, I salute you.  

(Now where is Mark, that horse he was riding, and Andy?)

When "Got Your Nose" goes too far.

Well this is interesting.  Jack seems to be having a little trouble holding himself together in panel one.  I'm not sure if he's wearing a mask, if Tracy threw water or acid in his face, or if he's actually made of clay.  (Clayface?  Is that you?)  Whatever the case may be, this panel only serves to reinforce what today's strip is about: action, action, action.  (Frankly, I'm a little surprised that things are moving so fast, but the change is gladly welcomed.)  Now on to the excitement that is panel two.

And exciting it is.  Not only does this panel continue the action from the previous one, while still managing to up the danger quotient, but it also provides a very good reason for why you should always make sure that the windows of your control room are clean.  You see folks, during the inevitable fight, you don't want the windows to be confused for walls because while it's fairly standard fighting procedure to run an opponent into the wall, most people would think twice about doing the same thing with a window.  (Of course, this is Dick Tracy we're talking about here, and regardless of what happens to you, how many jagged shards of shattered glass shower down, and how long the fall is, he knows he'll survive.)  Perhaps even more important than our hero and villain falling from the sky, locked in combat, is the fact that people are actually in the casino.  They might even be gambling (though a sensible person would probably put money on them just wandering in to ask for directions or change for the pay phone).  If they are, then I would have to say that their expressions aren't so much a reflection of the horror of watching two men falling from above, than they are of the thought that they only have a few seconds to scoop up what chips they can before the table is destroyed and they never find out what number the roulette wheel was going to stop on (and you know it would have been the guy on the right's lucky number too).  As for the fall itself, I will say that I don't much like how Jack seems to be heading straight for the roulette wheel, which can only mean that he isn't long for this world (and if this were a live-action sort of thing, the episode would end with him being impaled on the wheel as it slowly turns).

The old apartment.

It didn't have just one gargoyle.

Or even two.

It had three.

They all sat in a column in a lonesome doorway.

They always made me smile as I walked by.

They've probably been painted over by now, and that's just sad.

Crickets.

Chirp.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

While Tracy faces off against Jack, Gertie is having problems of her own, but she's not going to go down quietly.  No sir!  If she has to go, she's going to do it with guns-a-blazin', and who should be at her door, but the one, the only, Ace, mysterious leader of one criminal endeavor or another.  (Hey, they never have revealed what this whole thing is about, so I'm not going to jump to any conclusions.  Bad for the knees and back, you know.)  So I guess Gertie is more of a threat than Tracy at the moment, or at least Ace deems her to be more important.  I guess I can't blame the guy.  I mean, she is sitting on a pile of money that probably belongs to him, so it makes sense that he would want to go and personally oversee the operation to get it back.  Therefore, he's brought along the best hired goons that money that buy.  (Unfortunately, that's not saying a whole lot, but they've got heart, so that's got to count for something, right?)

And now for the ending.  The ending is confusing.  I hope that that guy has merely stepped into a bear trap and that Gertie isn't biting his leg at this very moment after discovering that those guns she was so intent on using were either empty or only shot water.  Of course, it could be something else entirely.  It could be the triumphant return of the demon dogs.  (For all we know, B.O. picked them up cheap, or is running some sort of dog rehabilitation and rescue thing on the side, or maybe they're left over from his life of crime.  The fact is, we just don't know, but I kind of hope that they are the demon dogs.  Sure, they were bloodthirsty and mauled their last master, but they were kind of cute in their own special way.)  Only time will tell what the real answer is, and only time will tell if Ace is ever going to step out of the shadows so that we can get a good look at his face, if he has a face, and it's not just a giant playing card.  (No, he has a face.  We saw it from afar many strips back, unless it was just a mask...)

Oh, the puns!

Jack, really, it wasn't that funny of a joke.  There's no need for all of the laughter.  (Are you on something, my friend?  Does it have something to do with the shadowy side of your face?  Two-Face, is that you?)  Unfortunately, Tracy's joke seems to have distracted Jack from his original intention: the telling of his master plan, so I guess that we'll never know what it was, at least until the cops show up and it all gets explained in a sentence or two.  (Unless the cops don't show up because once again Tracy is working outside of the law.  I only hope that this time he completes the paperwork so that he'll actually get paid.  With the perfume business a bust, I'm not sure that anyone in the Tracy household is bringing home a paycheck at the moment.)
Setting aside everything but another pun, this strip reveals something very interesting.  It would seem that not only is laughter the best medicine, but in a pinch it's also a pretty effective weapon, one which Tracy appears to be something of an expert with (at least when it concerns those who might be a tad unbalanced).  This strip also shows yet another failure of Jack's criminal mind for instead of keeping Tracy in the supply room/janitor's closet, he brought him right out into the control room, full of all manner of machines and other equipment no doubt crucial to the running of his criminal empire.  (Jack, dear, this wasn't the best idea in the world because obviously something is going to happen in here, possibly concerning electricity and/or gunfire, that may result in your ultimate demise.)  I would also like to add that in the future, if, as a criminal, you are going to bring your captives into the control room, do clean the windows first.  The grime doesn't set a very good impression, and if they see a dirty window, they might think that there are other areas you may be lax in and start looking to those as a possible means of escape.  (But that's just a suggestion.  Do with it as you will, but don't come crying to me if you lose because you refused to use a little Windex.)

(And now, a word from our blogger: I don't know how much more of this I can take.  So many card puns involving the words Ace and Jack.  It's almost getting to be too much for me to handle, but never fear, for I shall persevere and get through it because I must, and because I have already come this far, so I can't give up now, not when I'm so close to the end, or not.)

Oh yeah, this is going to turn out well.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.  First you're not going to tell him and now you are?  Make up your mind, Jack.  Make up your mind.  Personally, I wouldn't tell Tracy anything.  He seems like the sort to mess up a plan if he knows what's going to happen, especially if said plan leans toward the side of evil.  (Have you never read the Evil Overlord List, my friend?  If you haven't, I suggest you do that now.)  I'd have kept him tied up in that store room/janitor's closet for the duration and then left him in there after closing up the operation.  (Sure, I'd have probably left some water or bread for him to nibble on so that I wouldn't later be charged with murder, but that's about it.  The guy is trouble, I tell ya.  T-R-O-U-B-L-E.)  Of course, none of this really surprises me considering the fact that Jack is using B.O. as a way to achieve his evil ends, whatever those ends may be.  It could be that he really had no choice though, since every exterior shot of the casino shows an empty sidewalk/parking lot, so it's possible that everyone else is across town playing bingo, or bridge, or Crazy Eights, or marbles, or jacks, of LEGOs.  But enough about that.  Back to the evil ends.  Maybe we'll learn about them, or maybe this conversation will abruptly stop and there will be no further mentioning of the plan.  (I'm a little sad and disappointed that we're still having to deal with Jack instead of Ace, but maybe he's busy, or had a dentist's appointment, or is stuck in traffic, or something like that.)  We'll just have to wait and see.

Whoops.

We all knew that he wasn't going to get very far, but who could have guessed that poor Rusty's undoing would be caused by the very Earth itself, heaving up to trip the running boy with a blade a grass.  (I mean, what else could it be?  Certainly not his pants because it seems that sometime between his capture and his escape he grew a couple of inches, so he couldn't have stepped on the hem.)  At least it looks like the little spotted dog is going to get away.  I am less hopeful for the Jack Elrod Ball though, since it looks like Rusty is going to fall on it (perhaps as a way of paying it back for not being a very good lookout).  And just when it seems that all questions have now been answered, another mystery arises: what is that thing on Rusty's back?  Was he wearing a previously unseen fanny pack?  Was he wearing mittens that are now trailing behind , flapping in the wind on their string like a banner?  Did Moe throw something at him (possibly a mitten or a piece of cabin)?  Only time will tell.  (Or not.  This could just be one of those times where there's a mystery object that disappears almost as soon as it appears.)  I suppose we should assume that it's the other camera, but if it is, that is one crazy looking camera (and I think it might be broken).    

The Not-So-Great Escape Begins.

Well, I think we can safely say that one mystery has now been solved.  It wasn't that Larry and Moe only had two shirts between them, it was that they only had one gold shirt between them and a whole mess of blue ones.  I would even go so far as to say that the gold shirt designates the criminal currently in charge of all plans and the blue shirt goes to the guy who gets to be the muscle and do all of the leg work because really, could Larry be anything but the muscle?  Sure, you could argue that at one time he did wear the gold shirt, but that could have simply been because all of the other shirts were dirty and the gold one was all that they had left, or that they both had been wearing blue shirts until Larry spilled something on his and all they had was the gold shirt, or that they were trying to throw off the cops by switching shirts to make people think that Larry was in charge instead of Moe.  Actually, the more I think about it, the real symbol of power and leadership might not even lie in the shirts at all.  It might in fact lie in the awesome power of the turtleneck (and who's been wearing a turtleneck the entire time?  That's right.  Moe.).  

Unfortunately, the presence of a power shirt does not a smart criminal make, for both Larry and Moe are too busy packing to notice that Rusty, the Jack Elrod Ball, and the little spotted dog are all huddled together, formulating an escape plan.  (Yeah, yeah, I know.  The dog's name is Sassy, but I had a cat named Sassy and I loved him, regardless of how people reacted to a male cat named Sassy, and frankly, I think little spotted dog is a cuter name, so that's what I'm sticking with.)  With their plan fully formulated, and Larry and Moe arguing about how to properly fold a shirt, the three captives make a break for it and run for the door.  We'll have to wait and see how far they're able to get before the inevitable recapture.  I only hope that Rusty remembers that he has to pull the door to get it to open.  Otherwise, this is just going to get too embarrassing to watch (or read, or whatever).

But I don't speak that.

It seems like whenever I click the Next Blog link, it takes me a blog written in a foreign language.

I wonder why that is.

When will the Bumble show up?

Of course they couldn't just let Rusty go, hop in the car, and get the heck out of Dodge (or in this case, Lost Forest).  No, they've already come this far by robbing a bank and stealing a little boy's camera, so why not add a kidnapping charge to mix?  Oh, if only those ducks hadn't been on the lake.  If only you hadn't needed a smoke.  If only Rusty hadn't decided to break into the cabin to get his camera back.  If only you had brought fishing gear when you went out fishing.  So much could have been avoided, but that would have made for a pretty boring story.  This one seems to promise car chases, kidnapping, border crossings, and maybe even gunfire.

As the criminal masterminds try to figure out not only where they're going next and what they're going to do with Rusty, the spotted dog, and the Jack Elrod Ball, but what they're going to pick up for dinner on the way, Mark and Cherry re-enact the scene from Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer where Donner goes off to find his wayward son while Mrs. Donner and Clarice stay behind.  (I want to say that Mrs. Donner had an actual name, but I don't think they ever gave her one.)  I'd say that Mark doesn't stand a very good chance of finding the kid, but he's got Andy with him, who's just returned from a short vacation, so he's well-rested and raring to go.  (Plus, if past experience has taught me anything, the Jack Elrod Ball will be able to repeatedly slip away from its captors and help Mark along the way.)

I know what it means on February 2nd.

But what does it mean when you see a groundhog on April 22nd?

(At least it doesn't look like he saw his shadow this time, so that's good, I guess.)

I listened to it again.

Then I determined that most of the songs on that soundtrack should not be sung aloud in public.

Looks like it's going to be one of those nights.

That's right, Gertie, guests don't usually drop by in the middle of the night.  At least, not guests that are looking for a cup of sugar or a spot of tea.  Of course, there is the possibility that she might be a tad jumpy what with all of that money stowed in the basement, but this is a Dick Tracy comic, so I think that we can rest assured that those cars do not contain someone who needs directions, or just wants to drop by and chew the fat at eleven o'clock at night.  Though actually, if I were Gertie, I'd be more concerned about those glowing eyes peering in through the window.  Criminals I'm sure she can deal with since she used to be one, but monsters or creatures from another world are another matter entirely.  Time to call The Monster Squad.  (Unless those are her eyes and she has some sort of eye beam like Superman or Cyclops.  That would be cool and she wouldn't have to be afraid of whoever is in those cars, unless they blindfold her before she can do anything.  Then she's doomed.)
It looks like things are really starting to get rolling, what with all of the trouble B.O., Gertie, and Tracy have gotten themselves into, and now we're introducing more guns into the mix.  Who knows what B.O.'s going to pull out later.  (Tommy?  Gatling?  Smith and Wesson?  Only time will tell.  I guess first he has to get himself untied and out of the back of that car.)  While Gertie is getting ready to greet her guests by packing a little heat, Tracy has awakened to find packed heat pointed at his head by none other than the true owner of the casino.  Could it be that the mysterious Ace has finally decided to make an appearance?  (This could be fun.  I hear the guy is a real card.)  Let's hope that Tracy comes out of his flashback before the big guy loses patience with him, and let's also hope that those guns Gertie is reaching for are loaded.

The dark side of Scouting.

She knew that it had been a mistake, ordering all of those cookies and all of that popcorn, but she had always had trouble saying no to the Girl Scouts and the Boy Scouts.  Now they were coming for her, and she was going to have to pay for those buckets of popcorn and those boxes of Thin Mints, Samoas, and Trefoils.  Because they wouldn't take no for an answer.  Not this time.

I know he had a purpose later on,

But I still don't forgive you for Scoresby.

Didn't we already do this?

Oh dear.  It looks like Rusty is learning the same lesson that Ken did in the last storyline: two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.  (These kids today.  You can talk and talk and talk and nothing sinks in until it's too late.)  At least this provides pretty good evidence as to what side those ducks are on.  They're clearly part of the Avian Empire...or maybe not.  The jury's still out and it seems that they're at a stalemate.  Half believe the ducks lured Rusty to the lake for the purpose of handing him over to the criminals who will then hold him for ransom.  The other half believe that the ducks are just waiting for Larry to step back outside where they can launch an attack a la The Birds and take care of the criminals who have invaded the woodland once and for all.  (We'll see how that reasoning holds up.  Right now it could work.  For all we know, Moe has already been attacked and is either floating face down in the lake, or cowering in fear under an overturned boat.)  I guess we'll just have to wait and see who's right.

Turning away from speculation and back to the matter at hand, I hate to say this, but the Jack Elrod Ball really botched it this time, though truth be told, using something that might or might not have eyes for your lookout wasn't the smartest move to make in the first place, so I'm willing to cut it a little slack for not seeing that Larry was coming.  Truth be told, that isn't even the worst thing about this incident because even though the poor little fella probably didn't want to go into that cabin in the first place, it looks like Rusty is going to use the little spotted dog as a projectile and launch him at Larry so that he can get away.  Things could be about to take a rather dark turn here, and yet I cannot look away.  I just can't.  I have to see this through.

The history of spice is the history of ice, and of civilizations long past.

They had buildings and bridges, but no freezers or fridges, and food would go bad pretty fast.

So they piled on the spice, and that made it taste nice, which resulted in something quite strange.

It's hard to believe, that since Adam and Eve, our taste buds caused history to change.

There's no need for fisticuffs.

Today I saw two robins squabbling with each other and didn't have the heart to tell them that I'd already seen the first robin of spring a couple of weeks ago on the first day of spring.

They only live to get radical.

They don't understand the sea, so they'll never get the spiritual side of it.

(Thanks Bodhi.  Thanks a lot.)

I don't have a problem with the genre. I just can't stand its name.

Steampunk.  Need I say more?

(Yes.  Where is the DVD box set of The Secret Adventures Of Jules Verne?)

Well I think it's funny.

They aired a commercial for an aviation school during a showing of Snakes On A Plane.

I can just imagine a sample listing of the classes you can sign up for:

1. Getting Snakes Through Security Checkpoints.

2. From Corals To Boas, Hiding Snakes On A Plane.

3. Fighting Snakes On A Plane.

4. Weapon Improvisation.

5. Antivenom, Olive Oil, And Other Snake Bite Treatments.

6. Flying And Landing A Plane Using Only Video Game Experience.

Enroll today.  Classes begin soon.

Financial aid may be available to those who qualify.  Credits may not transfer.

And that's why smoking can be hazardous to your health.

It looks like Rusty managed to sneak up to the cabin without being seen, despite the gigantic backpack, suited more for a camping trip and not so much a five minute hike, strapped to his back.  Speaking of the backpack, I don't exactly remember him having it before, or if he did, it being so large.  (I mean, what's he carrying?  The borrowed camera and another memory card, right?  It's not like he's lugging around one of the old time cameras with the tripod, solutions, glass plates, and tent necessary for darkness and development).  Oh well, the backpack isn't important.  What's important is getting that camera back, and the memories.  Precious, precious memories.

  

Speaking of memories, oh, panel two, how I love thee.  You remind me so much of Maniac Mansion that were it in my power, I would set up the Nintendo and start playing right now.  Alas, it is not meant to be, and so I must carry on.  Seriously, when I saw panel two  and its odd use of color, I half expected to see a menu down at the bottom where I could select sentence fragments or switch to another member of my party all the while keeping an eye out for Weird Ed and Nurse Edna.  (I also started to hear Rusty's theme music, soon to be cut off by the music associated with a brief update as to the activities of our cigarette deprived criminals, but that is neither here nor there.)  

Now, before I start talking too much about meteors and keys and chainsaws with no fuel, I should probably get back to the comic and our hapless criminals.  Frankly, I think that a lack of cigarettes should be the least of Moe and Larry's problems considering that they apparently went fishing without fishing poles, or bait, or a tackle box, or life jackets, or proper sunscreen.  Come to think of it, I think that the whole getting cigarettes thing is just an easy way for Moe and Larry to not have to acknowledge their mistake and serve as a way to remedy the situation without either of them having to look stupid for not bringing the fishing gear on the fishing trip.  Look out, Rusty!  Quick, Jack Elrod Ball and spotted dog!  Get that kid out of there!

My hair!

Well folks, they've really done it this time.  You know that it's a hard hit when Dick Tracy's immovable, possibly hand carved, wooden hair is knocked out of shape.  I don't know what the Kingpin hit him with, but it was certainly something very hard because the object in question doesn't look any worse for wear, which leaves me wondering what it could it be.  A cartoon steam whistle?  Part of a pipe organ?  A paperweight shaped like a wine bottle?  A metal bottle crafted in a long ago high school shop class?  A wood plane?  (Well, at least that one could explain the damage done to Tracy's hair, so it might be right.)  As if getting hit on the head wasn't bad enough, Tracy also managed to lose his gun, which will make fighting crime considerably harder.  Looks like someone should have employed the use of mitten strings.  (At least that's my opinion, but I've been trying to get the Jedi to use them for years and they never listen.  They just keep losing their lightsabers.  Ah well, what are you going to do?)  Now it looks like Tracy will have to find his way out of a storeroom before Jack sets his fiendish, fiendish plan in motion (and I sincerely hope that it's not one of those storerooms that MacGyver or the A-Team always managed to find themselves in that was fully stocked with everything necessary to not only escape, but also to take care of the bad guys).  Don't worry, I'm sure B.O. will be in the room as well, and we all know how helpful that guy can be.  (Oh, Dr. Noll, where are you when we really need you?)     

I wonder where they went.

Today I saw an Oldsmobile Intrigue that was missing both of its i's.

I was indeed intrigued by that.

Sometimes you can just tell.

I read it thinking, "He's going to screw this up somehow, I just know it."  

Then he did.  

He always does.

You're just not what we're looking for in a leader.

I had to exchange one character for another because the character that had been there was now somewhere else, but after making the switch, I quickly realized that the new guy has neither the authority nor the respect to do or say what the first one did.  Oh bother.

Therein lies the problem.

As I made it to the end of those two hundred pages, I began to remember some of what happened in the next batch.  Darn.

Rusty smash!

I told you those ducks couldn't be trusted.  (It was those beady little eyes.  Like dark pools of bottomless evil.)  They just wanted to lure Rusty into a trap.  Little spotted dog, it's up to you and the Jack Elrod Ball to keep Rusty out of danger.  It's up to you to keep Larry and Moe from spotting our young photographer, and it looks like you've got your work cut out for you since Rusty's plan to sneak up on the ducks has failed miserably because he hasn't quite gotten the hang of the silent hunter walk and scared them all off before he was even remotely close to the lake.  I guess we should start hoping that Larry and Moe can't hear very well, otherwise there's going to be trouble.

Or perhaps not.  At first I thought that those ducks were members of the Avian Empire, but now I'm not so sure.  I think that they just might be on the human side of the conflict and have not only alerted Rusty to the presence of the no good thief who stole his camera, but have also caused him to get angry enough to turn into the tiny Hulk-like creature he seems to be changing into in panel three.  Of course, they could be part of the Empire and they could have willingly set Rusty's transformation in motion because they know that once he transforms, he'll want to destroy friend and foe alike (which won't really matter to them since they've wisely decided to fly away to another pond where they will no doubt be sending out watery message ripples to be deciphered by the Avian's eyes in the sky and then relayed to the almighty Kookaburra).

Come on!

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get out of bed in the morning, and I imagine that's just how Tracy is feeling as he listens to B.O. blow the entire operation.  (Say what you will about the kookiness of Dr. Noll, but at least he knew when to keep his mouth shut and just go along with the plan.)  Still, Tracy's reaction to this latest development is priceless because right now he's just realized that he has to go pull B.O. out of danger even though he'd like nothing better than to just leave him to whatever grim fate Jack has planned for the old guy, but hey, family's family.
Adding insult to injury, it appears that Tracy wasn't looking when he ran into Jack's casino (and I do mean ran into it) and tried to open a pull door by pushing it as he charged in to save the day, accidentally running into said door and getting his nose all bent out of shape.  Poor guy.  Now he not only has to rescue B.O., but he probably has to go to the hospital when all is said and done.  (Of course, if this is going to end like the other strips, an ambulance will be called eventually to take care of the fallen criminals, so he could probably just wait until then if he wanted to.)  Be careful Tracy, it looks like the Kingpin is waiting for you, and while he's the only thing standing between you and B.O., you still could find yourself in a lot of trouble.  Just ask Spider-Man.

But how will we tell them apart now?

Honestly, I was going to let it slide when, while examining the picture from Rusty's camera, I noticed that Mr. Goldshirt and the longshoreman had inexplicably switched shirts.  I thought, "Okay, there was just a little mix up in the coloring process, and it's only the photograph.  I'm sure it'll get fixed."  Well, it didn't, so here we are.  I really hope that those aren't the same clothes they robbed the bank in, but knowing those two, they probably are.  If they had been smart (and so far I'm not getting that from either of them), they should have stopped at a store or garage sale and picked up some knew duds.  That way, when the police are looking for two men, one in a blue shirt and one in a gold shirt, they'd no longer be looking for them, and then they could just put on hats to hide their hair (or lack thereof).  But maybe the clothes are part of the plan as well, and by switching shirts, they hope to throw off the authorities (and given what I've seen of the authorities, the plan stands a good chance of succeeding).  Still, this whole plan could fall apart once the longshoreman finishes falling to the ground, probably cracking his head open on a chair, table, or the floor, and has to be rushed to the emergency room to be treated for drunken stupidity.

But enough about the fashion choices of our criminal friends.  The more important issue concerns the purloined camera.  You know, if I were Moe and Larry ( and I'm going to assume that Larry is the man formerly known as Mr. Goldshirt, and Moe is the man formerly known as the longshoreman for obvious reasons), I would have at least had the sense to take a look at what was in that camera before I kicked back to drink a beer and mess around with a gun that I sincerely hope is not going to be used for fishing.  (That's what dynamite is for, isn't it?)  I mean, right now they're pretty much taking it for granted that the picture is in there.  Me, I'd be too paranoid to just assume that it's there.  In fact, I'd have made sure that it was there shortly after I got the camera to a safe location, and then, after finding the picture, would have immediately deleted it so that if the camera did fall into the wrong hands, the picture wouldn't, but that's just me, and I'm not a criminal.  I'm just paranoid.  (Speaking of paranoia, I don't trust those ducks.  I don't trust those ducks one bit.)

Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk.

The criminals formerly known simply as Mr. Goldshirt and the longshoreman have finally been given names.  Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I present Larry and Moe.  Unfortunately, this raises more questions than it answers because I now want to know where Curly and Shemp are.  (Perhaps they were apprehended during the robbery and are now sitting in jail, or perhaps they met their demise during the shootout that took place after said robbery.)  Now that Mark has all the information he needs from the sheriff, it's time to dispense a little Lost Forest justice. People in the city may accept crime as a natural part of life, but that's just not the way they do things in Lost Forest.  If I were Larry and Moe, I'd get out of town and quick. 

That would explain the printing press in the back room.

I'm starting to think that Jack might have a slight problem somewhere in that mind of his since this is about the third name he's used since appearing in the strip.  Still, he isn't going to let something like that keep him from pursuing a successful life of crime, and it seems that he's either producing counterfeit bills, or is involved in some sort of money laundering scheme.  I'm a little confused with the Kingpin's initial comment, though, because the way it's phrased, it sounds like they took B.O. to the cleaners and all he has left is a measly three-quarters of a million dollars when in reality they fixed it so that he would win a large amount of money.  I also think that he's worried about nothing, which could turn out to be a problem, since it seems that so long as they keep giving B.O. sacks with dollar signs on them, or just plain old regular burlap sacks, he's more than happy to store his winnings at home.  (I also think that Jack is wrong about B.O. being bank illiterate.  I think that it's more likely that the bank won't let him inside because of his criminal past.)  

Boy, Tracy sure looks tired, doesn't he?  I think it might even be starting to interfere with his work since he could have easily said that first thought about B.O. getting the cash fair and square out loud and kept the "I think," to himself instead of keeping both thoughts to himself.  (Besides, who knows, the Zol/slime hat might have given the old man the ability to read minds.)  It also looks like Tracy has once more decided to put a member of the public in danger by trying to persuade B.O. to wear a wire.  I guess he's thinking that since everything worked out okay with the doctor, what's the worst that could happen to B.O.?  What's the worst that could happen indeed.

Excuse me, but I've got some questions.

What's with the the argyle?  Why aren't there matching socks?

What's the reasoning behind having one checkered sleeve and one solid sleeve on the jacket?  Did you run out of fabric?  Do they not make one or the other anymore and you had to make due because they'd already finished cutting out half of the order when it was discontinued?

Inquiring minds want to know, or at least this inquiring mind wants to know.

(Happy 200th Ramble Day.)

I guess I'm not as dedicated as you think I should be.

Yes, I watched the game...sort of.

I turned on the television.

I watched the start of the game.

I read an article about Hatshepsut.

I watched a little more of the game.

I watched parts of two Diners, Drive-ins and Dives episodes.

I watched a little more of the game.

I read an article about the Russian Orthodox church.

I watched a little more of the game.

I watched the end of Thunderball.

I found that the game had ended sometime during the end of Thunderball.

I turned off the television.

I guess it's just that time of year.

It's April and it's snowing.  

I know I should be angry, but I'm not.  

Yay snow!

So is that where they got the idea from?

          
       
From the moment  I saw the jacketed henchmen of Harley Davidson And The Marlboro Man (Yes, I will admit that I watched the movie.  I will even admit that I've watched it a couple of times.  I don't care.), I immediately started to wonder if their jackets had inspired the costumes in The Matrix.  Probably not, but it really makes you think, or at least it makes me think.  

(And I honestly did look for better images of those guys, but there just really aren't any out there.)

(I also found there to be an unsettling similarity between the eyes and mouth of Tom Sizemore and the eyes and mouth of Mickey Rourke.  It made any scene the two shared just plain creepy, like they were tossing one set back and forth...and now I've said too much.  I'll stop now.)

From the creators of Planet Earth...

Disney?

(I would have thought that the world would be a happier place then, or at least more expensive.)

Oh, Discovery Channel, thank you for shedding light on this little known fact, much like you did when you let me know that King Tut was assassinated by Oldsmobile.

Oh Halloween.

The only time it was deemed acceptable to beg door to door for candy.  It was also pretty much the only time that I got the one candy that made slogging through the usually rainy, cold weather worth it (and no, it wasn't a candy bar.  In fact, I don't even know if it was a brand name item.).  For you see, among the Smarties, the tiny candy bards, the peanuts (oh yes, the houses I went to walked on the wild side, before people became afraid of this humble legume), and various other caramel, nougat, and chocolate confections, were the cinnamon bears.  Yep, the thing I looked forward to the most (aside from the box of Cracker Jacks I could always depend on getting from my grandma) were the cinnamon bears.  I miss those things.  I used to see them at the store every now and then, but now they seem to have disappeared completely.  I wonder why.

So close. So close.

Safely back at the cabin with Mark and Cherry, Rusty regales them with the story of his lost camera, and I wouldn't be surprised if he added a few embellishments about how he fought valiantly against the thief, only to have to let him go when he turned his attacks on the poor, defenseless spotted dog.  With so much attention focused on that little memory card, it was only a matter of time before Mark would decide to take a gander at what the diner pictures contained.  Then it will be as easy as taking a little walk down to the local post office to have a look at the pictures on the wall to see what all the fuss is about and find out who he's going to have to teach a lesson to in the future.  (Perhaps this means that we'll finally be able to find out what Mr. Goldshirt and the longshoreman did to be wanted by the law.)  Though this does raise an interesting question: does Mark Trail even own a computer?  (I suppose a computer isn't necessary, though, since if Rusty's got a digital camera, he can probably just look at the pictures using that.)

Boy, I bet the longshoreman and Mr. Goldshirt will laugh when they realize their mistake.  I bet they'll be rolling on the floor when they realize how close they were to actually getting the memory card.  I'll bet they'll be gasping for air between guffaws as they recall how all Mr. Goldshirt had to do was resort to pickpocketing to get the memory card they wanted.  Yes, they'll be laughing and laughing and laughing.  Or, they'll have been driven into a murderous rage.  It's hard to say.  We can only stop and wonder how long it will be before the criminals return for what they really wanted, and who knows what evil end they'll have planned for the Trails in the mean time, but never fear, for Faline Adler is on the case, which means that Sherlock Hooves can't be far behind.  She's sniffing out the perpetrators and will no doubt be led back to their cabin and the stolen goods.  It's up to the animals now, because we all know that the humans are pretty worthless in these kinds of situations.

It's the little things.

Watching bread toast is magical, and if you've never done it, I highly recommend it.  Watching the slice of bread as it sits in the glow of the heating elements, you don't think that anything is going to happen.  You think that it's going to turn out to be like that pot fiasco you tried earlier where you watched and watched and watched and nothing happened, and then the moment you lost focus, suddenly the little bubbles appeared.  (Okay, maybe not.  Maybe I have watched a pot and it did in fact boil.  What can I say, I was a curious child who didn't believe the saying, and perhaps I was taking it a bit too literally.)  Toast is different.  Watching toast is like watching time-lapse photography.  You know it's about to change the moment before you see those first shades of golden brown.  Then you watch as they seem to fade into existence, turning that regular old piece of bread into a delicious piece of toast.  You watch as the colors become more defined and creep across the bread until it's bread no more.  It's toast.  It's like watching magic.