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Judge Parker, 3/16/14

How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable are all the uses of this world? Just ask Judge Emeritus Alan Parker! In the years since he returned to his strip, we’ve heard of the growing marital discontent he shares with his wife. He told us he feels old and useless, and we’ve watched helplessly as his compulsive risk-taking escalated from recreational B.A.S.E. jumping to jungle snake-handling.

The story ends, as all such tales must, atop a forbidden cliff in the Mexican jungle with the frenzied Judge turning his wife out to “rock the joystick” of some buzzing monstrosity in the hopes that something — anything — will let him feel again. Oh Judge, Judge — in all those years on the bench, did no one tell you about heroin?

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/16/14

“All right, Becka, I suppose it won’t hurt to go over this again. As we’ve discussed, Dr. Morgan and I allow you to banter with us on a first-name basis because it suits our image of ourselves as friendly, egalitarian people. This is our little indulgence, Becka, not yours — and there is a line. Now, when I tell you that Paula John is an incompetent emotional wreck, that is not an invitation for you to defend her, or spew vicious gossip about the Dean — my peer — from below stairs or wherever it is you and your little friends hang out. Especially when you’re not meeting your most elementary responsibilities around the clinic. Well then, I hope you’ve enjoyed our little talk. Now get me those results. And let’s go back to calling me ‘Ma’am’ for now, shall we? There’s a good girl.”

Spider-Man, 3/16/14

Mary Jane manipulates her doofus husband without looking up from her crossword: “Hey, Tiger, what’s a six-letter word for ‘eight-legged parasite’?”

Zits, 3/16/14

This strip finally makes sense to me: Connie is Princess Leia, and Jeremy is Jabba the Hutt.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Better Half, 3/15/14

Don’t ask Harriet, Stanley — she gave up on dreams long ago. Didn’t mind the format so much; just got sick of the programming.

Funky Winkerbean, 3/15/14

What passes for joy in the Funkyverse: He’s Not Really Dead, Part IV.

Herb and Jamaal, 3/15/14

The Reverend Croom has figured out Herb spits in his food.

Heathcliff, 3/15/14

Oh man, is that a cat thong in the middle there? The neighbor lady looks pretty horrified; I bet it’s a cat thong.

Between Friends, 3/15/14

OK, so this is Between Friends, which mixes joke-a-day and soapy arcs about the lives and times of three middle-aged women and should therefore be called Among Friends, but that’s not important right now. There’s an unfulfilled stay-at-home mom and a frazzled working mom and childless divorceé Maeve here, finishing up a whirlwind European vacation and wrenching final breakup with her ex-husband by visiting her company’s Paris office and trying to gin up a glam new international job. So you can apparently do a lot more with the whole “3 Girls” concept than orphan deer and off-panel plane crashes, even when everybody’s Canadian.

Hey, I’m filling in during Josh’s mostly-annual Spring Trip West through Sunday, March 23. Let me know if the site starts acting up on you and I’ll do what I can to fix it: uncle.lumpy@comcast.net. Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Family Circus, 10/20/13

Thel leaves the dishes for her evening pick-me-up down in the laundry room. Bil strains to remember what people mean by words like “hope” and “win.” Candyland was never supposed to be like this … not like this. The animals bide their time.

Funky Winkerbean, 10/20/13

Another sunset-colored Sunday Funky, in which we learn that Winkerbean pere et fils can only interact through the medium of commerce: “I’m here, Dad! How much attention and respect would you like to buy this time?”

Hey, remember when I said the Montoni pizza was the standard transactional unit of misery in Westview? SEE?

Why are Wally and Darrin taking a table out at closing time?

Better Half, 10/20/13 (panel)

Sadly, Harriet, that is definitely a Thing, and there’s a lot of it going around:

Mark Trail, 10/17/13 (panel)

Mary Worth, 10/20/13

So Mary Worth is apparently giving up on those confusing “stories” entirely and cutting straight to the self-congratulation? Unless the story is the self-congratulation, and Shelly’s got a chain-link cage set up in her drawing room so she and Mary can oil up and square off after lunch in a ‘Condescending Vanity’-themed Hell in a Cell? ‘Cause I would totally spring for the Pay-per-View on that.

OK, that’s it for me — look for Josh Sunday afternoon or early Monday with Comments of Slightly More than a Week and lots of good clean family-style comics mockery. Thanks for a fun time, everybody!

— Uncle Lumpy