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Mark Trail, 10/24/13

So I hadn’t mentioned this earlier but Johnny Walker shot an elk and wounded it but then didn’t bother to follow it and put it out of its misery, and though I’m a city slicker who is terrified of things you encounter while hunting (guns, animals, direct sunlight, “outside,” etc.) it was pretty clear to me from context that this made him evil. And now, as he flees with Mark Trail’s enormous, battery-drained cell phone, he’s about to meet that elk, and its huge, razor-sharp antlers! Pretty sure this is the first example of “Chekov’s elk” in the history of narrative.

Spider-Man, 10/24/13

Yeah, so, Spidey and the Tarantula have pretty much won their fight against El Condor and his regime, but they still seem to be awful cocky about their current scenario? Remember, this is a brutal dictator for whom the best case near-term scenario probably involves a brief show trial before a Revolutionary Tribunal resulting in a sentence of execution by firing squad; more likely outcomes involve a rope, a lamppost in the plaza in front of the presidential palace, and nobody who knows how to do a hanging properly so it’s swift and painless. So, you know, why not shoot at one or more of the spider-themed superheroes who helped the leftist running dogs overthrow you? Especially when they’re both being so smug and irritating?

Crankshaft, 10/24/13

Speaking of revolutions: Crankshaft knew that his own reign of terror couldn’t last forever, that eventually the children on his bus route and their parents and his co-workers and his own family would realize they had had enough of him, and would organize to send him into the dustbin of history. But unlike El Condor, Crankshaft was prepared. You could still just barely hear the angry mob in the distance, baying for blood, but already the CIA helicopter was landing inside Crankshaft’s compound. The citizenry could take their rage out on his fence and his yard, could tear his house to bits, but they would never find Crankshaft. It was like he was never there at all.

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Family Circus, 10/20/13

Thel leaves the dishes for her evening pick-me-up down in the laundry room. Bil strains to remember what people mean by words like “hope” and “win.” Candyland was never supposed to be like this … not like this. The animals bide their time.

Funky Winkerbean, 10/20/13

Another sunset-colored Sunday Funky, in which we learn that Winkerbean pere et fils can only interact through the medium of commerce: “I’m here, Dad! How much attention and respect would you like to buy this time?”

Hey, remember when I said the Montoni pizza was the standard transactional unit of misery in Westview? SEE?

Why are Wally and Darrin taking a table out at closing time?

Better Half, 10/20/13 (panel)

Sadly, Harriet, that is definitely a Thing, and there’s a lot of it going around:

Mark Trail, 10/17/13 (panel)

Mary Worth, 10/20/13

So Mary Worth is apparently giving up on those confusing “stories” entirely and cutting straight to the self-congratulation? Unless the story is the self-congratulation, and Shelly’s got a chain-link cage set up in her drawing room so she and Mary can oil up and square off after lunch in a ‘Condescending Vanity’-themed Hell in a Cell? ‘Cause I would totally spring for the Pay-per-View on that.

OK, that’s it for me — look for Josh Sunday afternoon or early Monday with Comments of Slightly More than a Week and lots of good clean family-style comics mockery. Thanks for a fun time, everybody!

— Uncle Lumpy

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Judge Parker, 10/17/13

Why it’s the Harrisons! Hello … Audrey! DUN DUN DUN DUN!!!!

Judge Parker, 6/21/13

Well, Audrey, the Parkers actually consider it their table, and you’ll be pretty *&^% lucky if they let you sit down at it, placecards or no.

But as the solitary drop of rain to have fallen on the Parkers’ parade in recent memory, dear Professor Harrison, won’t you please sit over here with us, and your husband too? May we freshen up those drinks for you? Now tell us, in careful, patient detail, leaving nothing out, all the ways that Alan Parker’s The Chambers Affair is a derivative, puerile, monotonous, steaming mass of gelatinous offal. We’ve got all night.

Back at the Parkers’ table, that is the purplest “California chablis” I’ve seen in my life. I’m beginning to think Sam and Abby aren’t very capable vintners.

Mark Trail, 10/17/13

Ah, the lunatic majesty of a Mark Trail plan. All he has to do is confront two heavily armed co-conspirators in the middle of a wilderness. What could possibly go wrong?

I do love the action pose in panel two — if that phone weren’t already dead, it would be in for one heck of a beating right now.

Crankshaft, 10/17/13

The joke is that Crankshaft thinks this is a joke. The shame is that he steps completely out of character to backstop a stupid golf gag. The tragedy is he’s even less appealing this way. The irony is that those charming panel-one leaves demonstrate a level of craft and imagination far beyond anything the text deserves.

Luann, 10/17/13

These little flickers of self-awareness never amount to anything.

— Uncle Lumpy