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Comics archive! Apartment 3-G

Triumphant return comics!

Hi everybody, I am back! Thanks to Uncle Lumpy for his fine fill-in work! And thanks to all of you who participated in the spring fundraiser to help keep the lights on around here! You’ll be getting personal thank-yous in the next few days, plus links to a fancy-schmancy Google Forms questionnaire that will make it hopefully easier for me to get rewards out in a timely/organized fashion. BUT FIRST: BACK TO THE COMICS!

Apartment 3-G, 4/29/15


Hey, guess who else is back? Gabriella’s mother, apparently! Gabriella, your mother isn’t sick any longer — she’s a foul, undead abomination, shuffling from the graveyard towards the still-living family that her rotted brain just barely remembers, moaning with a hunger that can never be sated. It’s the best news of all!

Speaking of the undead continuity strips: Uncle Lumpy tends to pay Newspaper Spider-Man exactly as much attention as he deserves (none), but I can’t look away from it, and I feel compelled to share with you another great example of Newspaper Spider-Man’s Spider-Powers Being Real Crappy, from last week:

Panel from Spider-Man, 4/22/15

Oh, Spider-Man, your spider-sense is literally of no use to you in situations where more than one person is around! It’s a good thing people generally dislike you and try to avoid you!

Anyway, after a little light breaking and entering and security-guard-webbing, we arrive at today’s strip:

Spider-Man, 4/29/15

Haha, the potential for super-heroic combat has quickly withered away, and now we’re just left with Spider-Man arguing with the pajama-clad heir to an industrialist’s fortune about the mental health professionals he’s consulting. I love how quickly this strip finds its level in every plot!

Hagar the Horrible, 4/29/15

I’ve often wondered when exactly the action in Hagar the Horrible takes place vis-à-vis the conversion of the Norse from paganism to Christianity. Well, fun fact: when the Vikings became Christian, they started burying their dead instead of cremating them. So, does today’s installment definitively place this strip in the age of Norse paganism? Not necessarily: perhaps Attila, still loyal to a polytheistic pantheon, is taunting Hagar, whom he knows has converted to the faith of the “civilized” world and, by implication, has gone soft, by sending him an object to remind him of his pagan warrior past. Quite a sick barbarian-on-barbarian burn, eh? I mean yes, the pagan Huns didn’t practice cremation themselves. Also, Attila lived a solid four centuries before the Viking Age. Look, just let me have this, OK?

Dennis the Menace, 4/29/15

Whining to the neighbors and asking them to call for help because you got stuck up a tree? Not menacing. Making your neighbors, who probably hold you in justified contempt for your irritating antics, question their own moral worth as you force them to confront the fact that, in their heart of hearts, they value the life and safety of an animal over that of a little boy? Extremely menacing.

Herb and Jamaal, 4/29/15

Herb’s expression of evil plotting as he contemplates an extremely minor transgression against conventional morality is definitely the funniest thing in the comics today. “I’m pretty bad at golf … but based on this scorecard, the world will think I’m only mediocre at golf! None will be the wiser! All will tremble before me! MOO HA HA HA HA HA HA HA”

Incoherent is the new hilarious

6 Chix, 4/28/15

Wait, what’s the difference between the “professional” and the mom here? They look the same! Shouldn’t the rejected mom be the sad one? Or is that the mom way over on the end of the branch? Maybe the mom is the happy drunk, and the sad one at the end of the branch is an editor? Maybe these guys wandered in from Shoe, and they’re all sad, drunk editors? I bet that’s it.

Apartment 3-G, 4/28/15

Oh look, it’s fake psychic Diane, here played by beloved roommate figure Tommie Thompson. Gabby — Gabriella — is Margo’s birthmom and a sometime fake psychic herself, all dressed up to receive her surprise midnight visitor. In panel two, she speaks for us all.

And I know I speak for us all when I say, “WILL YOU PEOPLE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STAND STILL?!!

Crock, 4/28/15

The long-awaited Crock/Pluggers crossover. You thirsty, Andy Bear? Just wait.


Faithful readers! I’m outta here — Josh returns tomorrow, rested, refreshed, and ready. Thanks for a fun week-and-some; see you next time!

– Uncle Lumpy

Who knows, they all look alike anyway

Apartment 3-G, 4/20/15

I won’t try to update you on recent goings-on in Apartment 3-G, because, well, let’s just say Josh’s theory that the strip has become a livestream of Margo’s psychotic delusions seems as good as any. This new guy/hallucination is either some jerk who’s been pranking Margo on the streets for a few months, or one of her string of unfortunate lovers stretching back to the Kennedy administration, and there is NO WAY I’m implying that those two are mutually exclusive. Maybe in Margo’s fevered imagination President Kennedy himself has come back from the dead to prank her on the streets, I wouldn’t rule it out. Quite the card, that Jack — and lookin’ pretty sharp for a man of 97.

Gasoline Alley, 4/20/15

Like everybody, I just knew when a custodian named “Gus Todian” showed up, he would pepper Mrs. “Trace Me” Hatley and the rest of us with pointless and annoying wordplay. But “vegetablearian” had me stumped until I realized it was an attempt to force “veterinarian” in there, as though veterinarians, or for that matter midwives, help out after insects hatch. From their eggs. Just shut up and go get Jetpack the wetvac, Gus — slurp up those nymphs mighty quick.

Judge Parker, 4/20/15

Long, long ago — decades before his New Year’s Day 2000 wedding to Abbey Spencer — Sam was the badass in this strip. He was a detective, then, doing the tough, messy work stuffy neither Judge Alan nor that effete smartass Randy had the stones or the competence to do themselves. But consigliere or not, it’s the Parkers’ name on the strip, and Sam will never be family.

Now, while Alan and Randy jet off to jungle compounds to quaff Cristal with willowy assassins and international arms merchants, Sam squats in this washed-out squirrel-infested trailer park, nursing his diminishing stores of supermarket plonk, ignoring his shrieking, entitled daughter, and picking fights with the likes of Dalton here and his meaty comrades. I wouldn’t go pointing that finger, Dalton — our boy’s having a very bad day.


–Uncle Lumpy