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Apartment 3-G, 10/8/11

Wow, Margo’s standards of work would shame a junkie — her grand reopening for the Mills Gallery boiled down to cadging a favor from an ex-client and putting up a sign. And while her “Art without Rules” gimmick must have seemed clever at first — no standards, can’t fail, right? — now Queen Bee’s anarchists are tagging up the joint, trashing all the work Trey conned out of his partners, and returning the Mills to its roots as a crack house.

But just like last year’s Great Hypothetical Piano Delivery, we don’t actually get to see any of the alleged “Art without Rules” — just a couple of mopes talking about it. “Tell, don’t show” — it’s like a rule or something.

Archie, 10/8/11

Wow, Fred’s getting more enjoyment from that newspaper than anybody has for 40 years. You can bet he’s not reading Archie.

Judge Parker, 10/8/11

Wow, check out CIApril Bower in panel 3 there. Seems like only yesterday she was Randy’s timid, dumpy secretary, fending off his ham-handed advances over chewy takeout sushi. Now a willowy oenophile and multilingual Lady of Mystery, she jets to global hotspots under World Bank cover from her stylish country home. Here, standing amidst the obscene symbols of the Spencer-Drivers’ good fortune, she recalls the moment it all changed for her, too. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Touched by a Parker!

The Phantom, 10/8/11

So yeah wow, El Guerrero Latino, the good lucha libre wrestler who beat nasty cheatin’ ol’ El Bucanero Infernal is in fact Police Chief Ernesto Salinas, who mysteriously bailed on Kit right before the match. This will come as a revelation to absolutely no one but the Chief’s son Emiliano, Ciudad Jardin’s slower version of Rusty Trail.

There’s a lot of pumped-up mystery about how very much depended on the match, and an uncommon amount of attention paid to Ernesto’s training partner Victor Batalla and his son Vincente, so watch for some hero-on-the-inside father-and-son stuff down the road. But for now, what if Chief Salinas has been gaming the Ghost Who Walks all along, and this is the payoff: “OK, ‘Walker’, now that you know my secret identity, how about telling me yours? It’s the way we do things here in México, my friend. You know — like men!”


Hey everybody, I’m sitting in this week while Josh takes a vacation. Contact me about site trouble, spam, comment issues, etc. at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net. Thanks!

– Uncle Lumpy

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Family Circus, 3/14/11

Ill-content with his future as a sullen dick, Billy aspires to be a sullen ignorant dick. Live the dream, Billy!

Baby Blues, 3/14/11

Uh-oh — looks like Hammie’s been bitten by a radioactive spider. Lot of that going around. Can’t wait for the musical!

Marvin, 3/14/11

Marvin, perfected. You folks can stop now.

Judge Parker, 3/14/11

Marketing executive — of course. Alan’s Blackberry® also brings news that his two-week Wonder Novel has received a Pulitzer Prize, and Sam’s been appointed Attorney General and Papal Nuncio. Judge Parker pumps its characters so full of gas it’s like watching Ally McBeal staged by Macy’s parade balloons.

Dick Tracy, 3/14/11

Whoa — what the hell is that thing growing out of Dick’s left wrist? And are we headed for four months of “It’s morning out there”/”I’m gonna call you, Tracy”? Time will tell.


Hey, I’m outta here! Josh will return on Monday with your COTW, and chew back into the comics on Tuesday. It’s been a fun week — thanks!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Prince Valiant, 3/13/11

In the dark ages before mobile phones, a sorceress with a beef could hex a passing oaf, daub ZOMG U R A HOAR!!11! on his tunic, and send him lumbering off to her rival’s lair. A good catfight would choke the streets of Camelot with oaves trudging to and fro through the dung and offal wearing STFU, 4Q 2U2, and 182, or lounging in the market as ZZZ or BRB.

Maldubh, sorceress wife of Val’s rival Draco, recently oafed Val and Aleta: V@L+A1337A — FOAD Y NOT? KTHXBAI, and here we see the reply: OMFG MAGIC FAIL NEENR NEENR.

Dick Tracy (panels), 3/13/11

Dick Tracy and Dick Locher say goodbye. Aww, nice. “High-speed”, heh!

The Lockhorns (panel), 3/13/11

Loretta Lockhorn brags about her plan to sex her husband to death. Sorry, Loretta — Anna Nicole Smith you are not.

— Uncle Lumpy