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Blondie, 9/18/17

Sometimes I wonder about the Bumsteads’ relationship. They have a sweet romantic backstory: Dagwood gave up his inheritance to marry flapper Blondie (née Boopadoop) for love. And they seem affectionate — kisses in and out the door, shared bed, respectful and brief arguments, even if Blondie seems to get the upper hand more often. No Lockhorns-grade emotional desert, that’s for sure. Still, I’m just not feeling the spark, y’know? Arlo and Janis, Walt and Connie, Darryl and Wanda, Henry and Alice, Frank and Nancy, Ted and Sally; hell, Gil and Mimi — you know those folks got it going on, right?

Maybe 87 years together sands off the highs and lows? Or having a pair of teenagers underfoot since oh, say, 1958 puts a lid on intimacy? Maybe living so long in the public eye encourages an excess of modesty? Not for me to judge.

Anyway, every once and a while like today a co-worker will open a window to the cauldron of longing, passion, and betrayal raging just outside Dagwood’s matrimonial bubble, and it leaves him pensive: Is he missing out on all the excitement? Could Blondie be stepping out on him like that? Did he blow a chance to bang this guy’s wife?

9 Chickweed Lane, 9/18/17

Erstwhile Catholic schoolboy Amos van Hoesen checks his list to see if there’s any sacrament, commandment, or sacred tradition he and his new bride have not yet reduced to a sexual fetish.

“Nope — we’re good, babe!”

Herb and Jamaal, 9/18/17

For this joke to work, you have to believe that Herb a) remembers his wedding year, b) can subtract, and c) hasn’t aged since the strip ran five years ago. Even so, Sarah’s estimate seems way high.

Isn’t it adorable that Herb’s coffee gets mad when he does?

Curtis, 9/18/17

Some guys find dress codes an unbearable affront to their dignity — I guess Curtis is one of those guys; I guess Greg isn’t. But jeez kid, don’t call your father a corporate stooge after all those years he put in at the DMV. He’s a government drone, and don’t you ever forget it.

— Uncle Lumpy

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B.C., 5/12/16

A common and amusing thing you see in Victorian-era English translations of ancient Greek literature is that sexual terms are translated into Latin, the logic being that if you were educated enough to know Latin, you were presumably morally sound enough to read 2,000-year-old dick jokes purely out of literary or historical interest, but we don’t want the unwashed masses reading Aristophanes and getting aroused, now do we? Anyway, I have to assume that’s the logic behind this strip getting through the editorial process: by the time you’ve learned that “coprolite” is fossilized feces, you’re presumably past the age where this punchline would make you gleefully shout “It’s funny because he touched a doody!” at anyone within earshot.

Beetle Bailey, 5/12/16

You know how Beetle Bailey adds a new character every decade or so to glom in the most awkward way possible onto trends that the strip’s creators only half understand? What I’m saying is that 2016 is probably the year Camp Swampy gets its newest recruit, a vaping soldier named Private E-Juice.

Herb and Jamaal, 5/12/16

Yes, Uhuru is praying

praying to her insect god

SPREAD YOUR CHITINOUS WINGS, O CHITTERING ONE

I YEARN TO BE TAKEN UP TO THE GREAT HIVE

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Herb and Jamaal, 5/2/16

Aww, an old friend … like whatever beloved buddy Jamaal killed, cremated, put in that urn, and stone-cold pawned to save on columbarium fees? Watch your back, Herb. Nice to know he’ll visit, though — I guess that’s what old friends are for.

Andy Capp, 5/2/16

Considering all the sexual directions this conversation could have taken, I’m glad it turned out to be about soccer.

Momma, 5/2/16

Am I the only person put off when medical staff say ‘Doctor’ as if There Were Only One? It smacks of status signalling, the way even soi-disant “horizontal” organizations signal their actual hierarchies by calling staff by last names, managers by first, executives by initials or nicknames, and CEOs only as “he” or “she.” OK for employees, I guess, but I’m the doc’s customer, dammit.

Anyway, for years I thought Momma’s surname was Hobbes — with an “e” — because she’s “… solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” I guess “Doctor” will find that out soon enough.

B.C., 5/2/16

Six thousand years ago, just before evolution stopped, moose — even the well-endowed ones — sported delicate little bird-tails that provoked religious zealots into orgies of murderous rage.

– Uncle Lumpy