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Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!

It’s the final day of the Fall 2010 Fundraiser — if you enjoy the Comics Curmudgeon, please take a few minutes to make a donation of any amount to support Josh and his fine work. You’ll feel great about it, and so will Josh — thank you!

Gasoline Alley, 9/24/10

Even beyond the bus plunge trope beloved of generations of lead-type print journalists, the current Gasoline Alley plot is chock full of old-timey goodness:

• Sound effects in dialect — “Kee-rash”, y’all! “Smootch”!

• Regionalisms — “Let’s don’t”, like Louisiana’s “might could”, Josh’s beloved upstate N.Y. “pop”, and the “bubbler” (water fountain) of my own Milwaukee roots.

• Agricultural sexuality — Rural kids don’t have much patience for courtly love. But Rover won’t fall for Miss Chris’s comely charms either, considering what’s waiting at home.

• Picaresque plotlines — A forgotten lunch, excess cell-phone use, failed brakes, missing spare, sudden infatuation: what us know-it-all city-folk call “incoherent.”

Blondie, 9/24/10

OK, cartoonists, listen up. It’s wonderful that you’ve got friends and neighbors, and peachy that they give to charity and get married and whatnot, but won’t you please, please stop sticking them in your comics? Your audience doesn’t give a rip about these people, and they always look creepy and out of place. This is not how to treat friends and neighbors in print.

Sally Forth, 9/23/10

This is how to treat friends and neighbors in print.

Dick Tracy, 9/24/10

Chief Liz is right. In fact, Dick will eventually fool himself, arrest himself for vagrancy, and then die a grisly and mysterious death at his own hands while in self-custody. His last words will be a lame wisecrack about how he died. At the funeral, friends will say, “He would have wanted it this way”, and they’ll be right, too.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Click above to contribute by credit card or PayPal, here to contribute by check, or here for more details — Thanks!

Thanks for your generous contributions to the Comics Curmudgeon Fall 2010 Fundraiser! Haven’t given yet? Hurry! Thank you!

Blondie, 9/23/10

Blondie launches an unprovoked, totally unjustified attack on the Comics Curmudgeon Fall 2010 Fundraiser! Boy, you’ve got some nerve, Blondie! Just wait ’til Josh gets back from vacation — just you wait!

Judge Parker, 9/23/10

Oooh, this is promising: L’il Judge Randy’s packin’ heat! OK listen up, Judge Parker — Chekov’s gun is now officially on the table, and we expect either a) incompetent mayhem by a public official with collateral damage to innocent victims, or b) sexy target practice with CIApril Bowers involving sexual innuendo, leg silhouettes, hair-shaking, and nuzzling. Nuzzling, dammit! Deal? OK, now deliver!

Hi and Lois, 9/23/10

Atop the Salmon Throne of Ranch House Doom in the deepest suburbs of Mordor Meadows, the Dark Lady summons her thrall: “Hi, honey! Oh, nothing much, just thinking of you! Ash nazg durbatulûk, sweetie, bye for now!”

Mark Trail, 9/23/10

Mark submits articles to Woods and Wildlife but is apparently not a subscriber. Time to call Woods and Wildlife Editor Bill Ellis: “Say, Bill, I have a question about those stories I keep sending you! Do you ever publish any of them?”

He’ll be heartbroken to learn that his “Nature Journalist” job is just a fiction his occupational therapist Cherry cooked up to get him outdoors and keep his mind off his massive head injury and memory impairment. No matter: he’ll call Bill again tomorrow, just like always.

Give generously to the Comics Curmudgeon! Hey, c’mon, I figure nothing ventured, nothing gained! Am I wrong?

— Uncle Lumpy

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Panel from Slylock Fox, 8/15/10

Poor Slylock! He’s an expert at fancy deduction and ratiocination, and a savant at picking out seemingly insignificant details from a crime scene that may be important, but it appears he’s not cut out for the rough and tumble of real crime-fighting. For instance, some member of the strip’s rogues gallery — Harry Ape? Slick Smitty? Reeky Rat? — has trashed Slylock’s home, sending a message that he’s not safe anywhere. And yet all Sly can do is obsessively try to figure out the exact time when this act of intimidation took place. Do you think whatever thug wakes you up tomorrow with a well-placed fist to the snout is going to be impressed by this, detective? You’re officially in over your head.

Apartment 3-G, 8/15/10

Oh, dear, we appear to have reached the point in the storyline that I most feared, when the makeover would reveal the limitations of Frank Bolle’s ability or willingness to depict clothes worn by human females in the year 2010. The dress Margo is holding up in panel four would in fact make Lu Ann look old, and not cute, if by “old” we mean “a reanimated zombie of a woman from the 1910s in her burial dress.” And speaking of age, Tommie’s dress in the final panel looks more to me like “overdramatic prom dress” than “sophisticated thirtysomething professional.” At least her facial expression of forced sultriness barely masking profound discomfort is pretty accurate.

Blondie, 8/15/10

Here again is an instance of a Sunday strip whose top row of throwaway panels changes the narrative’s entire complexion. In those papers where the strip appears without the throwaway panels, it’s just a dumb joke about Dagwood getting a bowling ball stuck on his hand. With the throwaway panels, it’s a poignant story about a man whose best friend doesn’t remember his birthday, and tries to make up for it by just giving him some bowling ball he found in his basement, the finger holes clearly drilled for somebody else.