Archive: 9 Chickweed Lane

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Mark Trail, 8/7/13

The cruelty of Nature is well documented, but the cruelty of Mark Trail, Man of Nature, retains its power to shock. Blissed-out Rusty nurses his otter and dreams of fishing, but mere days from now he will have neither otter, nor fishing, nor any last shred of hope. Mark just twists the knife, while Andy’s mind is all on dinner. Say — maybe they’ll have fish!

Beetle Bailey, 8/7/13

In the grip of his alcoholic hallucinations, General Halftrack misinterprets Lieutenant Fuzz’s invitation to Where the Wild Things Are costume sexplay. Lt. Fuzz takes it as a rebuff and retires to his quarters for another long night of Patton, tears, and self-abuse.

9 Chickweed Lane (panel), 8/7/13

OK, I take back all the terrible things I said about the Not-Ardins’ mouths yesterday.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 8/7/13

Heather’s hissy fit reminds Rex what June has in store for him when he gets home. Four months wasted figuring out Milton’s vomiting might be something he ate, and no boat or free meal in it for them anywhere? And now he’s supposed to look into the Alzheimer’s thing, too? These wealthy, entitled jerks! Why, if Milton weren’t his only patient ….

Shoe, 8/7/13

Well OK on the face of it this is one of those “reverse-engineered from the punchline” jokiform utterances we see so often in Shoe, Archie, and Herb and Jamaal. A real-life bird-woman would say, “I surprised my husband in fishnet stockings”, but where are you gonna go with that when you’re on deadline and that tee-time is coming up fast, huh?

But on a deeper level, blondie here is being really unfair — I mean, sometimes a fella just wants to feel pretty, and pantyhose is gross in August and it’s not like I didn’t double-check to see what time you were coming back. Wait — HE! He didn’t check!

Oh, crap.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Pluggers, 2/19/13

Flea track and field.

Better Half, 2/19/13

Hey, Stanley — send that app on over to the folks at 9 Chickweed Lane, wouldya? Save ’em some typing.

9 Chickweed Lane, 2/19/13

Thanks, Stan. I’m sure they appreciate it — just look at those big smiles!

Rex Morgan, M.D., 2/19/13

Oh, poo. Looks like Our Honey isn’t challenging any normative gender constructs after all; she’s once, twice, three times a — well, I guess lady isn’t quite right either. Anyway, she made quite an impression on Rex there: look at him covering the smoking socket of the eye that was exposed to her naked ladyparts, or maybe he’s trying to pluck it out per Matthew 18:9? Either way, if that image could be pasted over the first panel of every comic ever, this blog wouldn’t need to do much else:

Funky Winkerbean, Mary Worth, Judge Parker, Crankshaft, 2/19/13 (panels, modified)

UPDATE — Hey, check out Faithful Reader Druj Nasu’s Automatic Rexifier, which Rexifies many, many more strips, and Faithful Reader Nehemiah Scudder’s Rex Agony Blank, which lets you play along at home. Thank you, Faithful Readers!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Sincere thanks to everyone who contributed to the Comics Curmudgeon 2011 Spring Fundraiser! In case you missed it, you can still use the “Donate” button on the left to make an online contribution, or drop me a line at for Josh’s address — but no more organized fundraising for another six months or so. Thanks again.

Gil Thorp, 3/13/11

Hornéd Armani-lovin’ B-ballin’ “second-teamer” Lini Verde — rooted by a steamy wave 200-strong, Miss Ducey! Gil Thorp redefines “incomprehensible filth” for a new generation. Stand aside, Peter Greenaway!

Barney Google & Snuffy Smith, 3/13/11

“Trading wood” isn’t a thing now, is it? Somebody please tell me it’s not a thing. Because those smiles are creeping me right out, and I’m afraid to Google it.

Mary Worth, 3/13/11

Oh please for the merciful love of Heaven let them be talking about kites ….

9 Chickweed Lane, 3/13/11

OK, somebody’s got to get through to Team Chickweed that “portrays characters of diverse sexual orientations” does not mean “more opportunities for random couplings.” Well, that, but not only that.

Archie, 3/13/11

Hey Pop, you got to put on the special glasses for that.

— Uncle Lumpy