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Far be it from this blog to neglect one of its core missions: monitoring the glacial progress of legacy soap strips, so you don’t have to. Because believe me, you don’t want to! Let’s dive right in:

Apartment 3-G, 4/15/09

In Apartment 3-G, aimless maniac Doc Joe rushes to rekidnap his children after leaving them in Tommie’s care. But Doc Joe is confused: Tommie‘s not the dope — that’s LuAnn! Tommie is the pushover. You’d think somebody who looks like everybody else would see the differences — hell, they’re color-coded for you! At least nobody mixes up Margo. Not more than once, anyway.

As for Tommie’s logic in panels two and three: “Joe will be pleased I’ve surrendered his children to the vicious harpy who calls him a rat and warns me to lock the door. Oh, listen — here he is now!” Ha ha — what a dope!

Mary Worth, 4/15/09

But has there ever been a dope like Adrian? In the space of a few days, she learns some guy she met on a Santa Royale Fan Site:

1. claims to be a victim of identity theft
2. claims to have been bilked by a crooked partner
3. can’t make good on his ostentatious promise to her father
4. claims to have been laid off from his long-time flashy job
5. claims to have a sister in hock to the Mob
6. presses her to wire fifty large to said sister
7. never really had that flashy job anyway.

“B – b – but he calls me ‘Queenie'”!

Judge Parker, 4/15/09

In Judge Parker, we’re spending the week buffing the reputations of Rocky Ledge and Godiva Danube: it’s only Wednesday, and already the couple could elbow aside Venerable John Henry Newman in the canonization line. Good lookers, green energy entrepreneurs, economic saviors of Parkerville, with geeky names, six adopted children, and success in their chosen careers — plus supporters of the troops and plain ol’ rural folk to boot! Farmin’ folk! Boy Howdy!

“Wussat, Bru? Another Nobel Prize? Sheee-it! Whut’s thiss’n for? Litrichur? Bodacious! Cain’t even spell it, and now I are one! Throw it on the dang pile with Peace and Economics, and pop me anuther cold one, woncha darlin’ — NASCAR‘s on!”

Drăguţ vreme, everybody!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Twice a year, I try to raise some money for Josh and this blog from reader contributions. It’s completely voluntary, but a good way to keep the Comics Curmudgeon going as a more-than-amateur but definitely-not-corporate voice. Please help if you can!



Please click above or here to keep the Comics Curmudgeon strong and independent. Thank you!

Piranha Club, 4/14/09

Mallard Fillmore meets Momma, and may God have mercy on us all.

Crankshaft, 4/14/09

Crankshaft is an Illiterate Moron meets Afterschool Special, and meh — what else is new?

Mark Trail, 4/14/09

Jack Elrod famously draws animals with far more care and detail than he does humans. So we can only assume that panel-three Rusty here has begun his horrifying transformation into Squirrel-Squirt, or Beaver-Boy, or some damn thing.

Funky Winkerbean, 4/14/09

Les “Ask Me About My Dead Wife” Moore utters those words every woman longs to hear, as his paramour’s rival wonders what scope she can afford for her Mauser SR-93. Oh, and good luck getting rid of those tickets on Stub Hub, honey.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Judge Parker, 4/11/09

OK, I get that “Rocky Ledge” is a stage name, like Dixie Julep for Kathleen Patterson — but c’mon: “Godiva Danube”? If that’s a work alias, it’s gonna limit her professional options — just ask L’Oréal MacDowell or Lancome Rosellini.

On the other hand, if she was born with a name like that, I bet her Hauptschule nightmares make Sophie’s troubles look like ein gehen in den garten.

But hey, why speculate when you can generate your very own Judge Parker name right here! Choose a chiseled, craggy man-handle straight out of the American West, or an Old World nom d’une femme with just the slightest bouffée of elegant dissipation — we don’t judge! Then add your own title (“Sheriff”, “Vicomtesse”) and you’re good to go!

Your new Judge Parker name:

Funky Winkerbean, 4/11/09

“Susan Smith” (no, not that one) may be a commonplace name, but this gal is more than another mopey walk-on. Nope, she’s the ur-victim of Funky Winkerbean, its Dark Eve — wellspring of the miseries that rise like the cholera from every sewer in Westview. It was her incomprehensible crush on Les that launched the “Summer of Les ‘n’ Lisa” (1994) — until quite recently the most annoying European adventure in comics history. Since then, she’s endured a suicide attempt (1995), a dating abuse cycle o’ violence (1998), gross underemployment, and a divorce (2008), only to face her greatest challenge: feigning interest in Les’s 900-page opus, My Wife Was Nice But Then She Died. She comes out — well, not smiling, of course — but upright, breathing, and back for more. Tough dame!

What the hell is wrong with these people? — a new occasional feature!

Between Friends, 4/6/09 — 4/10/09

What the hell is wrong with this woman?

I’m sitting in for Josh through the 19th — if you have any problems with the site or non-public questions, you can reach me at uncle.lumpy@yahoo.com. If you need to reach Josh directly, it’s jfruh@jfruh.com and probably a bit of a wait. Enjoy!

— Uncle Lumpy