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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/21/17

In their blind haste to develop self-driving cars, elitist Google ignores nutritional needs of rural Americans. Sad!

Beetle Bailey, 9/21/17

Got the celery and the baguette, but still the lamest Art Frahm knock-off ever.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/21/17

Heather gets her longed-for baby, and Rex gets an ocean between himself and his patient. It’s win-win!

Sherman’s Lagoon, 9/21/17

Fascinated by the island monkeys, Sherman asks Big Kahuna to transform him into one. I’m more than a little concerned about this! “Beach apes” are food to Great Whites like Sherman, yet he becomes a primate every time he gets a chance. A dimwit shark is funny; a dimwit self-loathing shark is just confusing.

Gil Thorp, 9/21/17

Prodded by evil Uncle Gary, promising left tackle Rick Soto must choose between a chance at high school gridiron glory or wowing the Elks Club with 1928 Kurt Weill show tunes. Follow your extremely modest dreams, kid!

B.C., 9/21/17

You’d think a prehistory-themed strip would know a little more about reptiles.

Luann, 9/21/17

Tiffany put on some weight, which is somehow now everybody’s business. Her nominal friends spring into action: Bernice to read to her from that big copy of Cosmo, Dez to light calming incense, and Luann to set things up with the team.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Luann, 4/30/17

Despite its longstanding and frankly creepy obsession with the outer limits of bathroom behavior, Luann has shown no interest in exploring similar frontiers in sexuality.

Sad, because a well-placed pair of hooves would’ve made today’s strip.

Pickles, 4/30/17

Though if you had asked me which strip I thought would be first to feature cross-species sexytimes, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have said Pickles.

Dick Tracy, 4/30/17

I’ll willingly admit that Dick Tracy‘s all-in dive into anime/cosplay/furry culture has left me in the dust. I have no idea who “Svengoolie” or “Chimetra” are, for example, or whose trademark the realistically-drawn “Connie Mail Wong” is trying to infringe/evade/appropriate/respect.

But I think that third panel holds the key to the Margies’ otherwise incomprehensible scam: their Cosplay Contest Grand Prize isn’t $10,000.00 like everybody thinks, but a cool ten bucks to the third decimal place. Those clever Margies will pocket the difference and laugh at the gullible rubes who will, in the grand Dick Tracy tradition, tear them limb from limb.

–Uncle Lumpy

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Luann, 10/19/16

Folks, I have a confession to make. Yesterday’s Luann was transcendently, skin-crawlingly awful. It was my solemn obligation as Substitute Comic Blogger to post and mock it here, yet I did not. An abundance of pity for the firehouse crew — powerless, disposable fourth-tier fictional characters — stayed my hand. It was a dereliction of duty, it was wrong, and I sincerely apologize.

Anyway, Captain Natty has bullied his crew into hosting a theme engagement party in which the food and entertainment rhyme with a clumsy portmanteau of the couple’s names (“Broni” — for some reason they’re not going with the obvious “Tonad”). The sandwiches, pizza, ice cream, and music on offer have therefore been respelled as baloney, pepperoni, spumoni, and Tony and Joni. Get it? If not, there’s a big-ass sign on the wall — always the sign of a great joke — to help you out.

But I’m wondering why Squinty McRictus there identifies himself as Toni’s “bro-in-law.” I suppose it could be a riff on that “firefighting is a brotherhood” claptrap they trot out in the recruiting brochures. But Toni’s a firefighter herself, so why say “in-law”? I prefer to think that little Shannon’s Dad Jonah isn’t really Toni’s brother but her ex-husband, that Squinty is Jonah’s brother in fact and thus Toni’s in law, and that Brad is in for a much bigger surprise than this dumb party.

Six Chix, 10/19/16

Really surprised these Tantric Sex Couches aren’t flying off the showroom floor.

Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 10/19/16

Today, Snuffy shows us that the self-perpetuating cycle of misery and crime that grips Hootin’ Holler can be broken, but fails to show us how he became happy enough to escape it. Did he find consolation in Parson Tuttle’s grifter’s Gospel? Did Sheriff Tait finally convince him to go straight? Did he fleece a Barlow at poker? Most likely he picked up his refill from Doc Pritchart and got high as a kite.

– Uncle Lumpy