Post Content

Curtis, 4/11/19

Far be it for me to criticize another man’s curmudgeoning, but I think that Greg has the escalating affronts to his sensibilities in the wrong order here. The elder Wilkins is generally depicted as being obsessed with how much Better Things Used To Be, in the Past, despite the fact that he’s a middle-of-the-cohort Gen Xer, at oldest, but anyway, what is a podcast if not the modern-day equivalent of an old-timey radio show? Shouldn’t Greg be pleased that this ancient art is being recognized and turned into movie franchises, just like the old radio serials of old? His reaction seems way, way over the top: as he begs his Creator to take him away from this fallen world in the final panel, he appears to have taken the admonishment in Matthew 18:9 to heart, plucking out his own eyes so that he can’t see the abomination that is a Sir Patrick Stewart-voiced poop emoji. But you can still hear the podcasts, Greg. You can still hear the podcasts.

Shoe, 4/11/19

I can’t decide if this strip is an indication that the Shoe creative team has suddenly remembered that their characters are all birds, or have forgotten so profoundly that they made this joke entirely on accident.

Judge Parker, 4/11/19

Two days later, Marie was murdered by the mafia. Sam and Abbey never noticed that she failed to visit over the holidays, because [rolls dice] Neddy [rolls dice again] was sad because she lacked direction, and that took up all their energy.

Post Content

Curtis, 3/25/19

Curtis is one of those strips that spends most of its time circling around the same 10 or so jokes, and it does it with such workmanlike skill that I read and enjoy it daily even though I don’t really talk about it much here. I will say that after so many years it clearly gets tougher coming up with variations on the template, which is why I’m excited that this installment of “Barry is disgusted by Curtis mooning over Michelle” is about to take a turn into surrealistic body horror, with his intestines bursting through his OshKosh B’goshes and flailing all over the place.

Dick Tracy, 3/25/19

Well, the press has finally settled on its nickname for the serial killer who’s murdering all those teachers, and it’s … “The Teacher’s Pet”? Do … do they know this name usually signifies an affectionate relationship with a teacher? I dunno, maybe it’s OK that the newspapers are all going bankrupt.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 3/25/19

“I have to say, this is quite the odd coincidence, of the sort that might lay the groundwork for an intriguing storyline!”

“I can see why you might think that at first glance, but let me assure you that the actual explanation is entirely banal.”

“Oh well! I suppose I’ll just sit here facing forward in silence for the rest of the flight, then. Good luck to you!”

Post Content

Gasoline Alley, 11/24/18

Today is the actual 100^th anniversary of Gasoline Alley — the longest-running comic strip still publishing new material ever since The Katzenjammer Kids went into reruns back in 2006. Sincere congratulations to Jim Scancarelli for his gorgeous old-school draftsmanship — that’s an actual pen he’s using right there — and a daily look back at a mythic America that disappeared after World War II — one populated by comical junkmen, back-alley auto mechanics, lovable hoboes, itinerant fraudsters, and radio voice actors.

Now can we please end the four-month self-congratulatory wankfest, park Walt in the Old Comics Home for good, and get back to wallowing in lovingly rendered Hoogy tush?

Crankshaft, 11/24/18

You know, I think Mary may be on to something here. We all think of Crankshaft as a bitter, self-loathing ignoramus, and who will say us nay? But what if the root cause of his repulsiveness is that he’s completely incapable of abstract thought? It would explain his rage as he careers randomly through an incoherent universe of punctate sense-experiences, comforted only by chance repetition — the droning monotony of football plays, familiar snap of a mailbox behind his bus, annual blast of fire from an overfueled grill, or daily necrotic reek of Lena’s coffee.

You object, “But he’s just being an asshole!” and Ed cracks a little grin. That word, like all others, is just noise to him, but at least he’s heard it before. So many times, it feels like an old friend.

Dick Tracy, 11/24/18

I’m really starting to worry about this Vorkov guy here. Near as I can tell, he’s taking funds legally entrusted to him and spreading them around in ways that are pretty routine but don’t match the beneficiary’s intent. That’s all loathesome ‘n’ stuff I guess, except:

• The beneficiary, Peter Pitchblende, is a moron, squandering his inheritance trying to resurrect the reputations of long-forgotten third-rate Martin and Lewis copycats. In the very worst interpretation, Vorkov merely missed the filing deadline to have Pitchblende declared incompetent.
• This is essentially the same con outlined in the Parable of the Unjust Steward (Luke 16:1-13). How bad can your grift be when it’s approved in the New Testament by Jesus the Actual Christ?

Maybe Vorkov, a second-generation crime boss, isn’t really evil at all, but was brought up to think he’s a criminal mastermind? So he spends his ordinary days faxing, paying bills, and managing payroll, but all in that ridiculous makeup, tenting his fingers and gleaming his teeth, pausing now and again to cackle “BWA-HA-HA.”

Curtis, 11/24/18

Greg, let me bring you up to date: these days, a million-dollar 2BR in Harlem looks like your place. No hovering required!

Mark Trail, 11/24/18

Heads up, kids! David Lee Roth is closing in!

Hello again, faithful reader! I’m sitting in for Josh through Sunday December 2, so if you’ve got any site access or other issues, reach me at uncle.lumpy@comcast.net. Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy