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You know, unlike some people, I was actually able to relax on my vacation.

Unlike Peter Parker, who is physically unable to resist the siren song of television, I was able to go eight whole days without reading any of the comics that weren’t featured on this site in my absence. So naturally I had to spend the better part of this morning reading everything I missed. Curse you, Houston Chronicle, for making it all so darn easy!

I was unable to decide on my favorite panel from the days I missed. Was it this one, where Gil Thorp openly boasts that he’ll call in his mob ties to silence journalists who dare question his insane coaching decisions?

Or this one, where Eric Mills imagines the sick thrill he’ll get from roasting Margo alive?

Silly Eric! Margo’s carapace is deceptively beautiful, but it will take more heat than an ordinary household grill can put out to damage it.

Anyway, no more living in the past! We must return to the present … where we find that things haven’t really changed much in the past week or so.

Blondie, 9/10/07

Blondie and Dagwood, for instance, are still caught in a hateful game of marital oneupsmanship that is played out via conspicuous consumption. There is, of course, only one way this can end: with the Bumstead house going up in flames in some kind of mutual potlatch gone horribly awry — both of them still inside, sadly.

Mark Trail, 9/10/07

Mark Trail has stepped away from the brink of a potentially interesting exploration of out-of-control tabloid media and out-of-control development hell-bent on getting its way to slip into a familiar groove. You can’t see it because of the dramatic shadows, but that dude in panel two has sideburns. Sideburns. Sideburns and a club. It’s fisticuffs time, people!

Marmaduke, 9/10/07

And, as ever, Marmaduke’s insatiable hunger for the flesh of human children rages unabated. It’s good to be back in the comics!

(Confidential to Tucson-area readers: Some Comics Curmudgeon fans are gathering at the Macayo’s at Ina and Oracle at 1 p.m. this coming Saturday if you’d care to join them!)

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Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/8/07

“I can bring home the bacon;
“Fry it up in a pan —
“And never, never, never let you forget
“You’re a total idiot.”

The Phantom, 9/8/07

This plot could go either way: “Ghost-Who-Cleans-up-Neighborhoods” or “Ghost-Who-Defends-Intellectual-Property.” But if I were little Tendai, I’d lay off the illegal downloads for a while. Just sayin’.

Mark Trail, 9/8/07

Here we have almost the entire Mark Trail gradient of good and evil: bald good-hearted Homer Moore, balding conflicted Mr. Thomas, shady sideburned Tom. NEXT: Tom hires ZZ Top and a gang of Hasidic rebbes to beat sense into Homer.

Funky Winkerbean, 9/8/07

Signs of the End Times: Nobody in this picture is maimed or dying. Everybody’s smiling.

Thanks to everybody who hit the Tip Jar or sent Josh a check this week, and for everybody’s patience with a week-long fundraiser. Judging by my mail and the comments, it looks like it was a big success; I know Josh will be thanking contributors individually once he’s back Sunday evening.

— Uncle Lumpy

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Comic mockery takes character — the mental toughness to cackle at metastasis and ridicule heartbreak. That’s why we reserve special scorn for characters who surrender to mawkish sentimentality — as in today’s shameful display.

Mark Trail, 9/1/07

The more this Homer hangs around Shirley the Duck, the softer and balder he gets. On track toward the Omega Point of hairless virtue, he can face Mark without fear.

Mary Worth, 9/1/07

Introducing Playa Drew Corey’s Love Philosophy: “Let it Slide” — or, in his own taxonomy, “Let it Die.” Tell us how that works out for you, Drew, baby — we’ll be . . . waaaaaay over there. Oh, and Clambake called. He wants his hand back.

Rex Morgan, M.D., 9/1/07

Peter, you lame-ass. Make the evil-eye all you want, you are making coffee for your boss’s nanny. Got it? The Shocker would be ashamed — and that’s a looooong way down, pal!

Apartment 3G, 9/1/07

Who’s that gal muffin-toasting her new beau? Noooooooooo. . . .!

— Uncle Lumpy