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:
- claims to be a victim of identity theft
- claims to have been bilked by a crooked partner
- can’t make good on his ostentatious promise to her father
- claims to have been laid off from his long-time flashy job
- claims to have a sister in hock to the Mob
- presses her to wire fifty large to said sister
- never really had that flashy job anyway.
“B – b – but he calls me ‘Queenie'”!
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