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So ends the Comics Curmudgeon Summer Fundraiser. For more than 20 years, through economic crises, the collapse of print journalism, a global pandemic, and Crock, the generosity of Comics Curmudgeon readers has kept this valuable cultural property alive and thriving. Thank you!

[On the off chance that you missed the fundraiser, you can click here to sneak in a last-minute contribution. I won’t tell anybody!]

Arctic Circle, 8/16/25

The Wild West! Memories came flooding back of endless summer afternoons spent fighting off backyard rustlers with his precious Nichols cap gun, trying and failing again to lasso the dog, plinking cans with his beloved Daisy, then sleeping under the stars, content with his posse and a belly full of Mom’s baked beans. Sure, accountancy had given him, Viv, and the kids a good, secure life. But the dream had never died. It took only a wisp of smoke from the grill or distant wail of a train to remind him he had become a settler—that he had settled. And it hurt.

A cowboy! Was it even possible after all this time, dressed in neoprene not buckskin, corralling manganese nodules instead of dogies, foregoing security for the risk and freedom of a new frontier? Gold shone from those hydrothermal vents for a man bold enough to brave the tube worms and claim it. No one would stop him, but did he dare? Instinctively he ran the numbers: mortgage balance, 401(k), the kids’ 529s. No, it wasn’t money he lacked, but courage. And now he could feel it, unfamiliar but welcome, welling up inside him.

Viv wouldn’t understand at first—he had never shared his childhood dream. But she would see the glow in his eyes, feel the newfound strength in his arms, and accept this part of the man she loved. He left his beer half finished and walked into the sun, grinning. He had waited too long. He would live this dream, and no fucking rabbit would tell him it was a sin.

Dick Tracy, 8/16/25

Lakoyle Labs is down at #44 on Tracy’s “Person of Interest” list, but this guy just up and phones the murderer direct. They’d hire him to head the Major Crimes Unit, if he had the chin for it.

Flash Gordon, 8/16/25

Hmm, “footage.” I understand that we’ve not yet figured out terse, digital-specific terms to replace hoary analog coinages like “film” (as a verb), “cut,” “splice,” and “reel.” And it takes a while: consider the evolution of “radio phone” → “car phone” → “mobile phone” → “cell phone” → “mobile” → “smart phone” → “mobile device” → “phone.” But you’d think they’d have it figured out by the time the flying cars showed up.

Well, that’s it for me this time around—guest host tomorrow, and Josh is back on Monday tanned, rested, and ready. I had a wonderful time, thanks! And special thanks to all the generous contributors who keep this site going, year after year.

—Uncle Lumpy

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Omigosh you guys it’s the very last day of the Comics Curmudgeon Summer Fundraiser! Hurry! Thank you!

Between Friends, 8/15/25

Way back during the dot-com boom I joined a startup with a business model only slightly less speculative than the espresso-martini distillery Susan’s so pumped about. It ended in the predictable way. But at least my decision wasn’t based on the prospect of lounging at home getting hammered on the product (semiconductor futures contracts, how would that even work?).

Flash Gordon, 8/15/25

I am mildly claustrophobic, and if somebody came along and freed me from days of imprisonment in a tight steel helmet I would probably react pretty much the way enslaved factory worker Edda does here. Don’t judge me!

Breaking Cat News, 8/15/25

I read Breaking Cat News every day. In my defense, sometimes a fella just needs a break between Luann and Crankshaft, you know? Usually it’s just cats reporting on news of significance to cats: Lupin is stuck in a drawer, There’s a cricket somewhere in the apartment, Breakfast is MISSING, that sort of thing.

But boy, things have sure taken a dark turn. The Woman is fostering bunny Miss Elizabeth while the Quinn Animal Shelter rebuilds after storm damage. Elizabeth may or may not (rabbit genealogies are complex) be descended from a colony of rabbits freed from Grimtech Labs in a daring rescue a while back. The experimental history of those now-feral rabbits left them with glowing red eyes, lunar cycle entrainment, and other signs of metamorphosis; the cats’ consensus is zombification. The Zombie Bunnies returned at full moon, claimed not to know Miss Elizabeth (but then rabbit genealogies are complex), gnomically announced “time is running out,” and disappeared. In other news, “zombie” is apparently an acceptable term, but “witch” is not. Supernatural etiquette is hard!

Pajama Diaries, 8/15/25

OK look I realize now that’s a trademark symbol but it sure looked like an apostrophe at first and I thought this strip was heading in an entirely different direction, GPS or no. Apologies!

Herb and Jamaal, 8/15/25

Reverend Croom apparently thinks Jeffrey Epstein should have been released and his files published so an angry mob would tear him limb from limb. New Testament words; Old Testament justice.

Mary Worth, 8/15/25

Olive’s Mean Girl classmates shun and bully her because of her oh-so-special precognitive gifts. So her saving a drowning classmate precisely because of those gifts would make for a taut, satisfying resolution to their conflict. But this is Mary Worth, so the special gifts in play here are “looks at stuff” and “took swimming lessons.”

Just a reminder that there are no Comments of the Week on my watch, so Tabby Lavalamp’s tart Neddy Spencer put-down gets to ride up there another week. Hooray!

—Uncle Lumpy

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The Comics Curmudgeon Summer Fundraiser is in full swing! Swing along, with a generous PayPal contribution, web or newsletter subscription, Venmo transfer, Patreon sponsorship, or in-kind transfer. And thank you, generous reader!

Mary Worth, 8/14/25

Never one for subtlety, Mary Worth foreshadows by planting an actual red flag.

Mark Trail, 8/14/25

That gator is really excited at the prospect of a new pond! Meanwhile, Mark shoves a bush aside to clear the gator’s path. Not quite Fists of Justice™ territory, but at least macho-heroics-adjacent.

Zits, 8/14/25

There is no evidence that sulfurous smells repel bears, and Jeremy scrupulously avoids contact with ammonia, bleach, and other cleaning agents that do. Sorry, Hector, that tent is looking flimsier by the moment.

Family Circus, 8/14/25

Jeff Keane’s tax auditor, probably: “Mr. Keane, the IRS is known for its generosity in granting tax exemptions for creative professionals such as yourself, but are you really going to go with ‘How can I draw the Golden Gate Bridge without taking my family to San Francisco for a week?’ Frankly, I’m still getting grief about that Crankshaft determination.”

Gearhead Gertie, 8/14/25

“You mean that movie starring a charismatic and attractive male lead in a high-stakes drama with a ‘rookie vs. veteran’ dynamic that depicts a growing bond between former rivals, with authentic racing sequences, behind-the-scenes explorations of racing culture, and an iconic romantic interlude, led by a director associated with the Top Gun series? Sure, here’s a ticket to F1: The Movie!”

Gertie turns it down because the cars look different. Stupid Genie.

—Uncle Lumpy