Beetle Bailey, 7/24/14
Soldiers are entitled to “… confidential, non-medical problem-solving counseling … provided by licensed, certified counselors on demand. Up to twelve (12) counseling sessions may be provided for each issue, at no cost to the Soldier or Family member.”
I suppose Dr. Bonkus can bill Amos and Martha Halftrack because they’ve needed hundreds of hours of counseling to fan this spark of romance from the ashes of their loveless union? Or maybe Bonkus bills them off-books for the use of his office because this is the only place they can get it on?
Alternatively: old-people sex, ew.
Funky Winkerbean, 7/24/14
After months of searching, Holly has at last located Starbuck Jones #115. The find was faked, of course – Comic John bought the comic in San Diego and had his pal plant it where Holly would find it, just as people have patronized and condescended to her at every step of her little odyssey.
No matter, though — Holly has found a way to bond with her son Cory by completing his collection while he serves in Afghanistan, drawing his cherished project to a close.
And this being Funky Winkerbean, somewhere in the hills of the Panjiwayi District, a sniper adjusts his windage. Somebody is going to get an authentic experience out of all this.
In fairness, though, that’s when the washer starts.
In its 30th year, Luann has finally taken the plunge and graduated its cast from high school. Insufferable do-gooder Delta is off to Howard University; second-string ethnic paragon Rosa Aragones spurned Yale for a job mucking out bedpans at her uncle’s clinic in “Peru” with dweeb Gunther in tow; and Bernice, Tiffany, and Quill will attend local “Moony Uni.” So, now, too will Luann herself, on the basis of a previously unseen gift for spatial reasoning, which fortunately requires no knowledge or effort to apply.
Our Moral: don’t waste your time learning and doing stuff — just wait for somebody to reward you for qualities you already possess. Our Motto: Inertia!
9 Chickweed Lane, 7/24/14
What, no chance for a Quigley here?
– Uncle Lumpy
Oh my goodness that was so exciting! And now begins the eleventh blogyear — the second blog decade — of the Curmudgeonarchy. Look on these works, ye mighty, and despair ….
Apartment 3-G, 7/12/14
Despair especially upon reading today’s Apartment 3-G! After weeks of tedious passive-aggressive banter, Carol and Tommie finally bond over a prank that would embarrass a preschooler. Giggle-snort-guffaw, indeed, and I’ll raise you “chortle.”
It’s a mercy Tommie can’t hear the quotation marks when Luann and Margo tell people she’s the funny one.
But we can …
Rex Morgan, M.D., 7/12/14
Speaking of despair, see how crestfallen poor Rexy looks as his daughter rockets past him into society’s uppermost stratum of privilege and influence. I’m betting those free cab rides and Shamu passes seem pretty shabby about now don’t they Rex, you pathetic bourgeois striver.
Mark Trail, 7/12/14
The key to compelling fiction is carefully detailed secondary characters. See, for example, how the lion’s rage and loathing are directed inward at his own cowardice, not at his feisty erstwhile prey. Let’s listen in! “Sure, Leo — run from the fucking giraffe, loser. Like he’ll neck you to death or some shit. ‘King of the Jungle’ my ass. Goddamn, warthog again tonight — Zuri’s gonna kill me.” And even at this great distance the reader can sense the vulture’s disappointment at the loss of its meal, disgust at the craven lion, and maybe a flicker of hope that Chris’s plan will save it from starvation? Of course, that assumes that the corpse of Mark Trail, all leather and sinew, could possibly be digested, even by a vulture, and even after a couple days rotting in the African sun. But hey, a bird’s gotta dream — fly high, vulture guy!
When Luann wants to disappear somebody, they put him on a plane. Longtime Luann crush Aaron Hill was exiled to Hawaii, but that has disadvantages of being still nominally in the US, so the disappeared one could theoretically keep in touch by phone. The technique was perfected for Miguel and one-shot “Sanchez” by sending them to Spanish-speaking countries. It’s perfect because not only are they outside the US so who cares, but if they did somehow manage to build a working telephone out of the native soot, feathers, and animal bones, we wouldn’t hear anything on our end but incomprehensible gibbering.
I’m super-interested in Gunther’s experience actually on his flight to nonexistence (OK, Peru, but c’mon). Will he just wink out once he crosses the border, or is it a gradual process of dematerialization culminating in technical nonexistence somewhere over, say, Quito? Can he feel the interstitial tissues of his internal organs relaxing their grip right now? What kind of Last Meals do they serve on a flight to Nowhere? He and Rosa are in Business Class (thanks, Mom — bye!), so will they get a couple dishes of those awesome hot nuts with their Diet Pepsis? Does Gunther save the cashews for last, and avoid the almonds entirely? Maybe, ever the gentleman, he gives Rosa his cashews and takes her almonds? It’s the least/last thing a fella can do.
Josh has withdrawn to his garret to finish his novel (tick-tappita tick-tapp tappita
), so I’ll be here through Sunday the 27th. No fundraiser this time: thus your generous contribution will be an especially welcome surprise when we send it up in the basket with his sandwiches. If you have any technical issues with the site, reach me at email@example.com. Enjoy!
– Uncle Lumpy
Family Circus, 7/3/14
Man, you guys, those are some glum-looking Keane Kids right there. Just alone in that featureless room with the cat. How do we get out? is the one question that animates their minds. Not just out of the room — though they want to get out of the room, of course — but out of their heads, out of their family, out of their lives. They’ve seen the antics of cats and dogs on the computer screen, obviously, and they wonder: what about the giggling humans in the background? Do they make money, somehow? Do they live exciting, dynamic lives, lives not spent in some room with a white rug and cream walls and no art? Could Kittycat be their ticket to that life? Too bad Kittycat doesn’t share their ambition, their desperation. Kittycat likes the featureless room. Kittycat just wants to take a bath, then maybe a nap.
“Thanks for getting my car back, Doctor Octopus! It’s, uh, all pretty smashed up and undriveable now, but I appreciate the thought. At least that guy didn’t successfully heist it!”
Hey you guys, I know I’ve been super remiss in keeping you up to date on Luann’s queasy-making erotic stylings! Anyway, today in Luann’s queasy-making erotic stylings: Gunther’s mom wants Gunther to make good on his spontaneous and instantly regretted boast that he was going to move with Rosa to Peru so she can have the house to herself, for sex. It says a lot about Luann that Quill/Gunther’s mom is the least revolting pairing the strip has offered us in years.