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Dick Tracy, 10/5/25

Longtime readers of this blog know that I have a lot of favorite etymological facts. One of those favorites is that the word “electrocute” was coined in 1889 by combining “electricity” and “execute,” and was originally meant to market the then-new electric chair; its use for being killed by electricity in non-judicial contexts only came later. That’s why I’m excited to see that Diet Smith Enterprises has an “Electrothanasia Room,” which I assume involves painless, voluntary death via electricity. Over the past few years in this strip, there have been hints that Diet Smith has shifted from playing the role for Dick Tracy that Q plays for James Bond to something darker, where he has his own shadowy agenda not always aligned with the MCU. Anyway, that seems to be confirmed today, when Dick is about to get electrothanized, or maybe electrocuted, or I guess just zapped, by a lady Diet Smith Enterprises was trying to sign on to its Superweapon Incubator program.

Pluggers, 10/5/25

Pluggers’ own failing bodies deny them even their most keenly anticipated pleasures! The thing about this strip is that in general it makes being a plugger sound frankly awful.

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Mary Worth, 9/22/25

As promised/threatened, Mary has taken Olive to the Santa Royale Hot Air Balloon Festival! You know, hot air ballooning, the classic California Central Coast activity we all know and love. You’d think Stanley would be a trustworthy and experienced balloonivator (?), based on his old-timey turtleneck/suspenders combo, but he’s too set in his ways to handle Santa Royale’s increasingly erratic weather patterns, and is forgetting the old balloonivation adage: “Pink skies at night, balloonivator’s delight; pink skies at morning, balloonivator take warning.” I actually don’t know what time of day it’s supposed to be but feel free to swap those around to get the correct answer, which is that we are clearly about to see a tragic balloon accident that Olive’s powers, attuned as they are to New York City-specific dangers like air conditioning units falling from the sky, were simply unable to predict.

Dick Tracy, 9/22/25

Sorry I haven’t really covered the Dick Tracy plotline about the two lesbian scientists using their ray gun to kill various dubious men (cartoonish loan sharks, sexually predatory venture capitalists) who stand in their way, and probably some nice guys too. Still, today’s strip is important, in that we get to see some masterful and highly technical investigative work in action. “Hmm, this woman who seems to be at the center of our investigation … what if I looked her up … in the newspaper … on the computer?” Once Dick finds out that you can use the website “google dot com” to look up someone’s name on all publications simultaneously, it will truly be curtains for the villains of Neo-Chicago!

Crankshaft, 9/22/25

Crankshaft experiencing shame? No, I don’t accept or believe this. Crankshaft looking in the mirror and feeling the dull blade of despair? Yes, now we’re talking.

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So ends the Comics Curmudgeon Summer Fundraiser. For more than 20 years, through economic crises, the collapse of print journalism, a global pandemic, and Crock, the generosity of Comics Curmudgeon readers has kept this valuable cultural property alive and thriving. Thank you!

[On the off chance that you missed the fundraiser, you can click here to sneak in a last-minute contribution. I won’t tell anybody!]

Arctic Circle, 8/16/25

The Wild West! Memories came flooding back of endless summer afternoons spent fighting off backyard rustlers with his precious Nichols cap gun, trying and failing again to lasso the dog, plinking cans with his beloved Daisy, then sleeping under the stars, content with his posse and a belly full of Mom’s baked beans. Sure, accountancy had given him, Viv, and the kids a good, secure life. But the dream had never died. It took only a wisp of smoke from the grill or distant wail of a train to remind him he had become a settler—that he had settled. And it hurt.

A cowboy! Was it even possible after all this time, dressed in neoprene not buckskin, corralling manganese nodules instead of dogies, foregoing security for the risk and freedom of a new frontier? Gold shone from those hydrothermal vents for a man bold enough to brave the tube worms and claim it. No one would stop him, but did he dare? Instinctively he ran the numbers: mortgage balance, 401(k), the kids’ 529s. No, it wasn’t money he lacked, but courage. And now he could feel it, unfamiliar but welcome, welling up inside him.

Viv wouldn’t understand at first—he had never shared his childhood dream. But she would see the glow in his eyes, feel the newfound strength in his arms, and accept this part of the man she loved. He left his beer half finished and walked into the sun, grinning. He had waited too long. He would live this dream, and no fucking rabbit would tell him it was a sin.

Dick Tracy, 8/16/25

Lakoyle Labs is down at #44 on Tracy’s “Person of Interest” list, but this guy just up and phones the murderer direct. They’d hire him to head the Major Crimes Unit, if he had the chin for it.

Flash Gordon, 8/16/25

Hmm, “footage.” I understand that we’ve not yet figured out terse, digital-specific terms to replace hoary analog coinages like “film” (as a verb), “cut,” “splice,” and “reel.” And it takes a while: consider the evolution of “radio phone” → “car phone” → “mobile phone” → “cell phone” → “mobile” → “smart phone” → “mobile device” → “phone.” But you’d think they’d have it figured out by the time the flying cars showed up.

Well, that’s it for me this time around—guest host tomorrow, and Josh is back on Monday tanned, rested, and ready. I had a wonderful time, thanks! And special thanks to all the generous contributors who keep this site going, year after year.

—Uncle Lumpy