Hey guys, a couple reminders/updates for you re: the new site design:
- There’s a new site design! Please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you see any problems. Faithful Web designer Adam Norwood and I are working on fixing some layout issues in older browsers; we’ve implemented some suggested changes, like tightening the spaces in the comments and bolding commenter names, and are plotting some more.
- For $3 a month, you can now become a Comics Curmudgeon Supporter! Click here for details, but the short version is you get an ad-free version of the site and advanced commenting features. Your credit card will be charged once a month and can cancel any time.
- Speaking of memberships, we fixed a bug where when you signed up your default commenting name was your real name — now it defaults to the user name you chose. (Older users still have to switch manually, apologies! You can do so by clicking on “your profile” at the top of the screen.)
That’s it for now! Enjoy, and email me with bug reports which we’ll hop on, and feature requests which we’ll consider!
Mary Worth, 1/12/17
It’s sad to me that Iris was so mortified by her inappropriate dress for that concert that Zak had to spend all his time consoling her and complimenting her outfit rather than really cutting loose and dancing to the stylings of “Maggio Nollaig” (a name that I haven’t mentioned here before but I swear to God I didn’t make up). Or maybe he means “dance” in a more specialized way. Like, maybe he means “flail about the severed arm of my enemy, which is definitely what you’re seeing at the bottom of panel two, since there’s no way that hand is connected to my body.”
Dennis the Menace, 1/12/17
It’s time to ask ourselves: who’s the real menace in the idyllic suburban neighborhood where the Mitchells and Wilsons live? Is it the innocent young boy who means well but who, like many his age, doesn’t have much of a filter or an understanding of social niceties? Or is George “Single Bead Of Rage-Sweat” Wilson, a bitter old man perpetually on the verge of an explosion, willing to take out his bottomless supply of rage on his wife, the neighbors, or even hapless robots who make the mistake of calling his home?