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It’s a shame the way soap strips dispose of incidental characters at the end of their runs. Let’s pay a last visit to a few of them before we lose them forever.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/23/13

Oh look, Honey seems to have perked right back up despite her recent gender-identification crisis and a life bereft of love or meaning. I guess that shower was just what she needed!

The Morgans seem stunned that the Beachside Beer Blast for Dolores (a.k.a. “Phoenix Reising”) raised $10,000. How does that work, anyway? We know the party wasn’t B.Y.O. because the girls stockpiled beer in Rex and June’s fridge. “Beach Trash” Brenda Woods (a.k.a. “B.W.”) chipped in $50 — a tad steep for the stripper ‘n’ surfer crowd, but let’s go with it. If $50 is the average, maybe 300 people at 67% gross margin after costs of Bud Lite, Tostitos, and Solo Cups at about $16.50 per head? Sounds plausible. Or maybe they just covered expenses before Neddy dropped in from Judge Parker and laid one of her “allowance” checks on them?

Hägar the Horrible, 2/23/13

Hey, Honey — grab that $10K and buy a ticket to London stat: we found you a Sugar Daddy! And even though the job description is “someone to read to Grampa”, I’ve got a feeling illiteracy isn’t a deal-breaker.

Judge Parker, M.D., 2/23/13

Oh, and that Neddy thing? Could totally happen: she’s on the move, back to Spencer Farms with her mysterious American doctor friend in tow. It’s a shame, though, that we won’t be checking in with the old gang in Paris — loyal manservant Groves, here, his employer Rachel the Cancer Aunt, Cedric the Wonder Butler, or maybe even Sociology Hooker? At least we’ll be spared mopey Jules and his Business Plan.

Mary Worth, 2/23/13

Aboard his Empty Plane to Oblivion, John Dill consoles himself with the Mary Worth Book of Fake Quotations. Seriously John, it’s surprisingly easy to lose something you never had: you might even consider such things “pre-lost”, if that helps you work things out. For example, you never had Mary, and lost her with no effort at all! But if by “hard” you mean “emotionally taxing”, well, let’s just let Dr. Jeff Corey weigh in on that one — he’s got no prospects of having Mary, or losing her either.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Dick Tracy, 2/22/13

Long-time readers will remember when Dick Tracy was a staple of these pages, back before a new team, narrative coherence, and really sumptuous art (go back and look at that first panel again; I’ll wait) put an end to that. So it’s nice of them to toss in an grisly death now and again, just for us old-timers. Thanks, guys — BEROWH!

Judge Parker, 2/22/13

Ha ha, so L’il Judge Randy’s going to tell his fiancée — a well-equipped professional assassin with a hair-trigger temper and history of gun violence returning from covert wet work in some Middle East hot spot — that their honeymoon will trap them on a boat with Mom ‘n’ Pop, the very people she planned to escape by eloping, swearing him to secrecy. Sam’s concerns are misplaced — L’il Judge won’t live to see cocktail hour, let alone Mexico. Work it like a claw, and call him mincemeat.

Mother Goose and Grimm, 2/22/13

The Scarlet Letter meets Welcome to the Monkey House. Those townsfolk will be mighty surprised when Reverend Dimmesdale shows up with a scarlet “D-” on his chest — the mercy grade Hester gave him so he wouldn’t try to retake the course.

Edge City, 2/22/13

Obsessive neurotic Abby Ardin finally found a personal trainer well-suited to her capabilities and goals, and promptly stopped exercising. Husband Len sizes up the situation perceptively, but both irony and correction are lost on Abby.

P.S. This woman is a therapist.
P.P.S.  Yes, I am going to start every single Edge City post with “Obsessive neurotic Abby Ardin ….” I just have to, for some reason.

Hi and Lois, 2/22/13

Lois, check out the the Cubs memorabilia and the Dylan, Who, and Led Zeppelin posters: this guy is your Dad.


Just a reminder – no Comments of the Week on my watch. Look for them when Josh gets back Sunday or, you know, whenever.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Momma, 2/21/13

It’s funny because Momma is down to her last five bucks and her son is a thief.

Funky Winkerbean, 2/21/13

Many, many comic strips have terrible dialogue, but the dialogue in Funky Winkerbean and sister strip Crankshaft is terrible in its own unique way — not from lack of craft or attention (Hi, Crock!), but its very opposite. Stare at a simple line like “How’s your room?” long enough and you’ll start to ask yourself if readers will remember the characters are traveling, or maybe think the question is whether they have enough room, say, to swing their arms or something? Then it’s down the rabbit-hole: “How’s your hotel room?” could be any hotel, so let’s go with “How’s your room in the hotel” to make it clear this Esteemed Figure is staying at the main convention hotel and not some off-strip dive, then plaster “Music Educ Asso  t” on the wall for good measure. Despite all that work — no, because of it — you wind up with overwrought phrases that seem unambiguous, but which no actual human would ever utter: “solo car date”, “dead man’s singles”, or “space heater in the basement” (for “water heater”).

More fundamental is the Quip Fail at the heart of this strip. Hotel ratings use stars, not letters, so “B-flat hotel” makes no sense even coming from a band leader Music Educator. My guess is that the joke started out star-related — maybe Sousa’s The Stars and Stripes Forever? — and then got reworked into its present form. But if “B-flat hotel” is really your punchline, own it, don’t bury it in these wads of bumf. Put it at the end, where punchlines go: “I won’t be staying there much, so I don’t mind a B-flat hotel.” And spare us Beardo’s in-strip affirmation of your character’s dubious wit. Exactly.

Wizard of Id, 2/21/13

It’s funny because it’s not golf.

Crankshaft, 2/21/13

Got that? A joke. Now laugh, God damn you!

— Uncle Lumpy