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It’s the final day of the Comics Curmudgeon Spring Pledge Drive, so if you’ve been waiting for a dramatic moment to drop your awesome cash bomb, now’s the time!



Just click the banner to contribute by PayPal® or credit card, or get an address for a check or cash. And a sincere thank you to everyone whose generosity helps keep the Comics Curmudgeon strong and independent.


Gil Thorp, 4/17/09

One of the many charms of Gil Thorp is its punctilious attention to the names of players, teams, and incidental characters whom we may never see again and will certainly never care about! Rich, here, for example, or WHCC, the fictitious one-step-above-public-access Milford TV station (and not the actual Bloomington, IN country FM radio station). But “Spartans” seems a little off for the St. Mark’s team — shouldn’t it be the “Lions” or the “Friars” or something? Hey, the “Notaries” would be a great name for a ball team!

Shoe, 4/17/09

Shoe ups the ante on “that is not how birds work” humor.

Beetle Bailey, 4/17/09

When does anvil season start? Soon, right? Please?

Mary Worth, 4/17/09

“That’s not love — that’s not even coherent.” But hey, do you suppose Doc Jeff ran a background check on his beloved Mary? And if so, what dark mysteries did he uncover?

Judge Parker, 4/17/09

I basically got nuthin’ here — a little more exposition on the The Fabulous Ledge-Danube/Rasmussen-Akermans to run out the clock on a slow week, tempered as always by Eduardo Barreto’s handsome draftsmanship. But thanks in no small part to determined rabble-rousing by faithful reader Dave and others, and a rousing response by us cookie-clearin’ survey-stuffin’ rabble, Judge Parker has been reinstated by The Washington Post. Way to go!

— Uncle Lumpy

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For many of us, the past six months have been a little rough. If the Comics Curmudgeon helped smooth things out, why not return the favor?



To contribute by PayPal® or credit card, click the banner. To send cash, check, fruitcake or loose gemstones, reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net for the address. Either way, thank you!


Why would any comic strip merely amuse or entertain its readers, when it could Speak Out on Important Concerns of Today’s Youth — who will totally not laugh at pathetic attempts to imitate their slang! Word up? For sha-zizzle, bros — and brosettes!

Crankshaft, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — don’t cheat! Because cheating cheats you and the game — and that helps the game win! You love the game, don’t you? Of course you do — that’s why you want it to win! And if that means you have to lose, well, suck it up! Get on the damn juice — for the sake of the game! Um, wait a minute; I’m a little confused here. Weren’t we supposed to have a flashback or something? CUE THE DAMN FLASHBACK!

Curtis, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — be true to yourselves, and all your dreams will come true. Of course, they’ll probably come true for somebody else — somebody whose idea of “true to himself” involves shameless ass-kissing.

Mark Trail, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — don’t smoke! And don’t become criminals! But if you do become criminals — really, really stupid criminals — don’t go out for an all-afternoon fishing trip without your smokes, because that is not how addiction works. At least do something right, fer Chrissake!

Spider-Man, 4/16/09

Hey, kids — do you know what to do in the event of an electrical fire? Do you:

Stop it with a rubber mat? NO! — It will just bat the mat away — like a foul ball!
Douse it with water? NO! — Water won’t douse an electrical fire — loser!
Dress it up in a ridiculous spiky outfit? NO! Electrical fires have no shame, and will appear in public thus garbed!
Stop it with a can of sand? NO! — I pan your can of sand, my man — electric fires withstand such plans!
Perhaps if I employed a bucket? NO! — and watch your damn mouth, kid!
Well, what if I call Spider-Man? OK, you’re just messing with me now.

Zippy the Pinhead, 4/16/09

Well, maybe not “Slim Jim.” But we’re with you the rest of the way, pal.


What the hell is wrong with these people? — an occasional feature!

Edge City, 4/6, 9, 10, 14, 15, 16/09

What the hell is wrong with these people?


— Uncle Lumpy

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Newspapers close and shrink, but the funny pages still matter. Send Josh a couple of bucks to help keep the dream alive!



It’s the Spring Pledge Drive for the Comics Curmudgeon! Click above or here to keep the Comics Curmudgeon strong and independent. Thank you!


Far be it from this blog to neglect one of its core missions: monitoring the glacial progress of legacy soap strips, so you don’t have to. Because believe me, you don’t want to! Let’s dive right in:

Apartment 3-G, 4/15/09

In Apartment 3-G, aimless maniac Doc Joe rushes to rekidnap his children after leaving them in Tommie’s care. But Doc Joe is confused: Tommie‘s not the dope — that’s LuAnn! Tommie is the pushover. You’d think somebody who looks like everybody else would see the differences — hell, they’re color-coded for you! At least nobody mixes up Margo. Not more than once, anyway.

As for Tommie’s logic in panels two and three: “Joe will be pleased I’ve surrendered his children to the vicious harpy who calls him a rat and warns me to lock the door. Oh, listen — here he is now!” Ha ha — what a dope!

Mary Worth, 4/15/09

But has there ever been a dope like Adrian? In the space of a few days, she learns some guy she met on a Santa Royale Fan Site:

  1. claims to be a victim of identity theft
  2. claims to have been bilked by a crooked partner
  3. can’t make good on his ostentatious promise to her father
  4. claims to have been laid off from his long-time flashy job
  5. claims to have a sister in hock to the Mob
  6. presses her to wire fifty large to said sister
  7. never really had that flashy job anyway.

“B – b – but he calls me ‘Queenie'”!

Judge Parker, 4/15/09

In Judge Parker, we’re spending the week buffing the reputations of Rocky Ledge and Godiva Danube: it’s only Wednesday, and already the couple could elbow aside Venerable John Henry Newman in the canonization line. Good lookers, green energy entrepreneurs, economic saviors of Parkerville, with geeky names, six adopted children, and success in their chosen careers — plus supporters of the troops and plain ol’ rural folk to boot! Farmin’ folk! Boy Howdy!

“Wussat, Bru? Another Nobel Prize? Sheee-it! Whut’s thiss’n for? Litrichur? Bodacious! Cain’t even spell it, and now I are one! Throw it on the dang pile with Peace and Economics, and pop me anuther cold one, woncha darlin’ — NASCAR‘s on!”


Drăguţ vreme, everybody!

— Uncle Lumpy