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Dennis the Menace, 9/24/24

Despite being a resident of California for more than a decade, I’m not a woo-woo person who talks about a situation’s “energy” much, but the closest I get is when I talk about doing standup comedy. The great and terrible thing about performing comedy live is that you can absolutely tell, in an immediate and visceral way, whether people are having a good time: a polite laugh is immediately obvious in a way that polite applause is not. And when you bomb on stage, it is a terrible and physical sensation: the term “flop sweat” is, for me at least, not a metaphor. Anyway, this is all to say that Dennis is very much bombing here; the guys down at the hardware store have zero patience for his bullshit little jokes, but it’s also clear that he’s blissfully unaware of this. Having no radar for how your performance is landing with an audience is almost certainly a type of sociopathy, and demonstrates what a true menace this young man is.

Hi and Lois, 9/24/24

Really love Lois’s gobsmacked expression in panel one here. “Holy SHIT! You bought bungee cords? You exchanged money for bungee cords? You got cords that consist of an elastic strand core covered by woven polypropylene? And you’re going to use it to secure the garbage can lids? Our garbage can lids? The lids to the cans where we put all our garbage? With fucking bungee cords? I never thought I’d live to see the day. May such wonders never cease.”

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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/20/24

Oh no! In this rustic retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk, Jughaid traded Ol’ Bessie for a handful of beans. The beanstalks grew to the sky in the traditional manner, but there were no gold coins, eggs, or magic harps on offer up there. Deprived of essential amino acids from Bessie’s milk, the Smifs will now die, and Barney Google will at last reclaim his strip.

Hi and Lois, 9/20/24

Chip Flagston, like Alexander Bumstead, is an anti-Dustin, attracting pretty girls without the slightest effort. But in a strip with 1950’s-era family structure, work environment, social mores, and frankly jokes, how does anything here really qualify as “retro”?

Beetle Bailey, 9/20/24

In an vulnerable moment, Sgt. Orville Snorkle is at last ready to let the sun shine into the black pit of shame and anguish that drove him to a half century of verbal abuse, savage beatings, and arbitrary punishment of his subordinate. Beetle is having none of it: this may not be the life he chose, but it’s the one he’s got and he’s not going to change it now. “Things are just fine, Sarge, do you hear me? Fine!

Judge Parker, 9/20/24

Ronnie, you’re the sensible, grounded one, remember? And yet here you are confiding in Neddy Spencer about a self-centered emotionally needy person who is not Neddy Spencer? Sure, you can always talk to her, but God help you trying to get her to listen.

Marvin, 9/20/24

Marvin‘s Jeff Miller gamely steps into Ed Crankshaft’s role now that Ed’s strip is off fighting 1950’s-era censorship or something. Got to admire how deftly he blends Crankshaft‘s negligent arson into Marvin‘s central theme, filth.

Just a reminder that there’s no Comment of the Week on my watch, so 2+2=7’s comment will ride up there for another week or until the math checks out, whichever comes first.

—Uncle Lumpy

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Dustin, 9/9/24

Deckhand on an Alaskan crab boat.
Choker setter for a logging crew.
Apprentice roofer.

C’mon, Dustin—get it over with.

Dick Tracy, 9/9/24

Sure, Ro-Zan is dangerous but Thorin, with his desperation at Moon Valley losing its atmosphere, known antipathy to Terrans, and blatant disregard for human rights, is no saint either—and he’s headed your way, Diet. Don’t forget, “the nation that controls magnetism will control the universe,” and said nation is emphatically not yours.

Hi and Lois, 9/9/24

Hi will both mash his thumb and pulverize the precious Oxy he’ll need for the pain. Ditto will tell him he can still snort it, but he has to pick out the plastic fragments first. Hi will ignore him—he’s in a hurry, dammit—and maybe he can hassle the E.R. docs for more Oxy to ease the pain from his nosebleed.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/9/24

Truck sits and ponders his answer: “Am I Truck Tyler? Used to be, kid; used to be ….”

—Uncle Lumpy