Post Content

Curtis, 4/24/12

Whatever issues I have with Curtis’s repetitive and corny jokes (and I have many issues with them), I’ve always been a fan of the strip’s incidental details. The posters hanging up in Curtis’s room are generally good for a laugh, whether they’re extolling rap as an abstract concept or hot new rap groups like Nuns with Guns. Today we see that Curtis’s genre classifications have gotten more sophisticated (he’s traded in his RAP posted for a HIP-HOP poster), but really what tickles me is that he has a giant, textless picture of a triple-decker hamburger hanging on his wall. It’s the sort of thing Dagwood Bumstead would own, if he had any authority over his home’s decor.

Apartment 3-G, 4/24/12

If anyone wonders why I always think Margo is the best: This is why Margo is the best! Most of us, if caught drunkenly making out with a pregnant friend’s spouse, would at least offer some kind of half-assed apology. But that’s not Margo’s style. Margo’s style is boozily slurring “No … you’re out of line!” at her friend instead.

Pluggers, 4/24/12

Elitist Neapolitan ice cream reminds pluggers of the two things they hate the most: immigrants and race-mixing.

Post Content

Beetle Bailey, 3/21/12

Amos Halftrack, aspirational onanist.

Judge Parker, 3/21/12

Nuzzling, not muzzling!

Blondie, 3/21/12

Dagwood Bumstead, Siri’s bitch.

Curtis, 3/21/12

Cuss Skunk, urban hero.

Mark Trail, 3/21/12

Stink Jacket saves the day.

— Uncle Lumpy

Post Content

Apartment 3-G, 3/20/12

Ah, spring is here — and while Margo thinks it will take a brainload of potent lady-hormones to light up pregnant-but-not-feeling-it Nina, poor naïve Tommie thinks sunshine and blue skies alone will do the trick. I can’t wait to hear Lu Ann weigh in with a prescription for moonbeam sandwiches and unicorn juice.

Curtis, 3/20/12

Say, when is Nina due, anyway — and how will her pregnancy play out in strip time? With multiple plotlines, Apartment 3-G can at least dip in and out of the Nina ‘n’ Scott story — Rex Morgan, M.D. would be all-Nina-all-the-time until delivery or catatonic ennui sets in, whichever comes first. Let’s just all be thankful this isn’t Judge Parker, where time moves so slowly that pregnancy is effectively permanent, or Funky Winkerbean, where it’s invariably fatal.

Wait, did you hear something? I think I drifted off there for a minute.

Crankshaft, 3/20/12

Alas, no hormone, season, or diet can bring relief to Pam and Jeff Murdoch. No sooner do they acquire another noisy trinket to distract themselves from the gaping hole in their lives than the ‘hole opens his damn mouth to ruin it all again.

Gasoline Alley, 3/20/12

Kindhearted nitwit Rufus celebrates the equinox watching nightmare TV while starving himself to feed his clowder of ingrate cats.

Crock, 3/20/12

But it could be worse — it could be Crock. You can carve that in stone.

Just watch your fingers.

— Uncle Lumpy