Trade all of my tomorrows
The Comics Curmudgeon Spring 2010 Fundraiser
Today is the final day of the biannual fundraiser — so if you haven’t already, please join me and and your other fellow readers in supporting Josh Fruhlinger’s fine work here on the Comics Curmudgeon. Act now — thank you!
Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!
Apartment 3-G, 3/26/10
Hey, it’s Dr. Skully “Chemo” Bryant, by all appearances — and against all odds — still alive! In a fit of dementia last September, Bryant turned over his lucrative psychiatric practice to medical impersonator Aristotle Papagoras, who quickly transformed it into a walk-in narcotics dispensary and Love Shack, setting the Bobbie Merrill story in motion.
Today, Dr. Bryant makes good his commitment to locate Merrill’s medical records, showing Papagoras that words like “professional” and “oath” still mean something to somebody in his business any more. The records had been filed under Bobbie Merrill’s married name, which was …. Which waaaaaaas …?
Anton Chekhov is famously reported to have said, “If in Act I you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then it must fire in the last act”. Well, faithful readers, we have our pistol, and the clouds are gathering for the final act — but whose will it be?
Hägar the Horrible, 3/26/10
It’s funny because that’s what the word means! Seriously, aren’t we approaching some kind of limit on what qualifies as “wordplay”?
Mary Worth, 3/26/10
Mary, already in her priestly garb, calls from outside the compound on her burner cell, but her chosen sacrifice evades the trap. Honestly! Salmon squares it is, then.
In panel two, Toby dashes off a landscape while her portrait of Ian dries.
Slylock Fox, 3/3, 3/19, 3/26/10
“I see. Well, let’s go back up to 30 milligrams and see if they stop.”
— Uncle Lumpy