Archive: Luann

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Arctic Circle, 9/1/21

Arctic Circle started out as a nice little fish-out-of-water joke-a-day strip about three penguins (Ed, Oscar, and Gordo, from left to right) stranded in the Arctic, sort of a cold-water Boner’s Ark. It has evolved into a 24/7/365 environmental catastrophe sermon, with some version or other of “ain’t it awful?” in the final panel. But today’s seems to suggest that we mass-murder insects to reduce pesticide use on soybeans, raising the question: how?

Phantom, 9/1/21

Hey, remember the last time we saw Savarna eight years ago, Old Stripey was lecturing her about their “incompatible methods,” how her “killing days end here,” and taking away her weapon? Yeah, well, looks like that ship has sailed.

And as a long-time Phantom/Savarna ‘shipper, let me add—are those eyes really empty behind that mask, or do I detect the subtle BRAKOOOOM of LOVE?

Sally Forth, 9/1/21

“That thing I do, the one that looks like it stems from reciprocal affection and a shared sense of impending loss? It’s hatred, Hil, and resentment! I’m a sociopath! Welp, great summer, girlfriend, see ya around!”

Luann, 9/1/21 and 3/17/2010 reprint of 3/18/1985

Where, oh where, will Luann be in 30 years? Let’s just look back 36 years and see if we can establish a regression line!

 

Hmm. Not “regression,” exactly, but hardly progress. Better get to changing those media stereotypes, Bernice, or at least the sheets.

Family Circus, 9/1/21

And if Billy starts avoiding Bibles, speaking dead languages, and smelling of brimstone, it’s ’cause he ate those deviled eggs.


Is “Venmo” a verb? Try it and see!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Curtis, 9/9/20

It’s devastating when a relationship you thought was heartfelt turns out to be transactional, especially when it’s with your own child. Dennis the Menace could take master classes from this little fucker.

Gil Thorp, 9/9/20

Gil waves off an impending homicide. A man’s gotta commit to be this half-assed.

Heathcliff, 9/9/20

Heathcliff Moves On, part XLV. Cat’s gotta travel.

Luann, 9/9/20

The red crystal “attracts love,” for dumping in the fish tank. The blue one “emits peace,” for throwing at Luann.


I always feel better after my obligatory Luann post; it’s like walking out of the dentist’s office.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Gil Thorp, 8/22/19

“Yes, but no, so let’s eat!” I call foul. Gil’s preseason chats with Marjie Ducey are supposed to detail the roster and telegraph the upcoming plotline. Cynical evasion, non sequiturs, and misdirection are for Marty Moon, dammit. Is Gil getting so lazy he can’t keep his own bullshit straight?

Phantom, 8/22/19

Whoa, looks like loss of blood is making our boy a little giddy; take on some fluids and maybe a Snickers? The Phantom has just rescued Imara Sahara here — wife of incarcerated terrorist Eric (The Nomad!) Sahara and mother of Heloise Walker’s best friend Kadia — from a very highly fortified and guarded compound during its annihilation by U.S. missiles, fighting his way through an army of unspecified allegiance to get her free, all to make good on Heloise’s idle boast, “My Dad will get your Mom out.”

BTW, Imara: if you compare notes with Kadia about the whole “Walker/Phantom” thing, don’t go expecting Bangalla Life and Casualty to take your calls.

But say, what if Imara, not Eric, is the real terrorist mastermind? Sure, they’d have to rejigger a few old plot threads, but wouldn’t it be just like the Ghost Who Condescends to miss a threat from across the aisle, just like he did with the Khagan in the Sunday series? And it would destabilize the family dynamics among the Walkers and Saharas, culminating in the daring rescue by 22nd Phantom Heloise of Kadia from a life of PTSD, self-medication, and pole dancing.

Judge Parker, 8/22/19

April’s story — her truth — is that an internal cabal of rogue CIA agents misled her into carrying out illegal hits, tried to kill her and her Dad Norton to cover up the mess, and got all massacred for their efforts. This has all been disclosed on-air in an exposé by reporter Toni Bowen, because April’s husband Randy can keep neither his pants nor his mouth shut. The story was elaborated further in Toni Bowen’s memoir about Norton’s corruption of literary lion Alan Parker, for which Parker has confessed and is now doing time.

So if you want to get out the rest of your story — your truth — April, I can think of a far better option than these two, and she’s doing the 6:00 news up in Cavelton.

Luann, 8/22/19

It’s tough being a Doofus Dad, and Frank DeGroot has it worse than most. Walt Duncan gives as good as he gets, Dagwood Bumstead enjoys the genuine affection of an excellent cook, and Darryl MacPherson is the beneficiary of Wanda’s voracious sexual appetite and otherworldly lingual gymnastics. But Frank just hangs around the house being emasculated by Nancy and ignored by Luann. When he’s had enough, he wanders out to the mall to find a clerk his daughter’s age he can sneer at with no risk of backtalk. This kid told him about cross-trainers on Tuesday, but he’s so invested in his “so many shoes” Pluggers schtick it blows right by him. What I’m saying is fuck you, Frank.


— Uncle Lumpy